2015

"New Start" by Ryzaki

Happy New Year!!!

As you may know, I am a big fan of resolutions. I am a huge fan of new beginnings. In order to begin anew, however, one must take stock of where she's at. As much as I'd love to let Facebook do it for me, I think I'll sum up my year myself, no algorithm, just plain old human memory bank.

In 2014, I traveled to Seattle for AWP in February, I began work as a research analyst across ICT markets, I published a fiction chapbook that I love even after print, Don't Tease the Elephants. I ventured to Nebraska and had truly life-changing time at The Art Farm. I visited my family in Massachusetts, and I struggled to write a novel. I finished a novel. I spent good time walking and dining with and hugging my husband and dog. We found a new living space and set up home. We spent a lot of money on Christmas decorations and enjoyed a solitary if beautiful holiday. I made new friends. I decided to do more in 2015. This is all the good stuff, the stuff I talk about. I also had surgery on my ear; took my husband to many, many, many appointments; worried over family and friends; beat myself up here and there for not doing better, looking better, being better. But to bring it back home, I am grateful for this year. So incredibly happy to have survived another one and to have made it to the year Back to the Future Part II took place in. To 2015!!!

I'll post a new prompt next week. Proud to have these final publications for 2014:

writing to art in:

Blue Fifth Review: Blue Collection 5

& my piece on not having children in:

Room Magazine

2015 Resolutions:

 

• Be good to my friends, love them unconditionally
• Write more regularly, find my routines
• Find representation for my novel and work on the second one diligently
• Have fun
• Keep believing that things can happen at those moments it doesn't feel as though they will
• Travel more, host literary events, give back to the literary community
• Laugh more
• Try a new food, at least one
• Meditate regularly, to keep perspective
• Zip line some damn where
• Go to Honduras, go home, attend a residency
• Do more of what is in-line with who I am
• Have fun!

Closing out 2014

2015 is the year of the Ram in Chinese astrology. Jupiter is in Leo. Technology will continue to converge. New mobile gadgets will be created. My dog will hit the magical 2-year birthday in which she is supposedly going to calm down a little bit and lose her taste for my shoes.

I can't wait. I am ready to resolve to begin again.

I've been relishing the holiday break. Spending some time writing and reflecting, hanging out with my husband with no rush to be here or there has been divine. On Christmas Eve, we were treated to a free four-course meal at a Jason Dady restaurant, Tre Trattoria, in San Antonio due to a reservation conflict. We ate caprese salads, cioppino, rainbow trout, and Nutella dessert 3 ways. Divine. We bought a bottle of wine and tipped generously to show thanks and will most definitely return again. On the 26th, I was thrilled to find Room Magazine in my mailbox, which so lovingly contains my piece "My Children in Times New Roman." It is perhaps my favorite piece to-date, mainly because I wrote it not only for myself but for all women who cannot or do not have children.

Also, given the time off, I was able to begin planning a March reading at San Antonio College. I've invited Melissa Studdard, JP Reese, Amy King, Jane Hammons, Bill Yarrow, Meg Tuite, and Lynn Beighly to read at SAC on March 7th, and I do believe it will be a blast. If you're in the area, plan on coming to hear us from 3-5PM. After, there will be a party. Before that, I head to Otterbein in Columbus to assist in a workshop about literary citizenship. I love that my year will begin with so many literary events, as I've felt a lack there since mid-summer.

In lieu of writing a story this week, I recommend writing an extra set of resolutions. One of your own, if you so please (no diets allowed) and one of a fictitious character - who will appear in a story later on. For my part, I will write Rattle's resolutions. I hope you have fun with this one.

Happy New Year! I'll post resolutions next week. xoxo Jen

Absences

I have been missing posts here, after such a good run. I have, however, been writing here and there. Here, at Fiction Southeast, I have a micro essay on why I believe we still read, despite claims of lowered attention spans and tech-assisted laziness. I also have a piece forthcoming about online personas and their value to the modern-day artist.

BUT I haven't been here. I suppose it's partially due to my busy schedule, school winding down for the term, the holidays, the freelance work I've picked up. Perhaps I have something I want to talk about but can't. Yet. Nevertheless, here I am with a prompt. For you.

Write a story with three characters. Character A is missing and Character B is looking for him/her. Character C finds Character A but doesn't tell Character B. Why? 

It's something of a mystery, and if you write to it, let me know how it goes.

I'm not with my family this year, so I will be having a quiet holiday with my husband and pup. It's strange how not being with family makes you appreciate them all the more.

I wish everyone reading this a very happy holiday season. Enjoy your families and friends, and if you are alone, do something good for yourself. Or for someone else. Enjoy, eat well, and don't feel as though you have to purchase needless things. Only give what matters.

San Antonio looks nothing like this, but this is how I still think of the holidays.

Prompt and story

The first full week back to work after a holiday is a long week indeed. I am currently wrapping up my fiction writing class and preparing for yet another break in January, and I'm psyched because I'm tired (see: fewer posts to blog).

I had a Rattle story come out this week, in Superstition Review XIV entitled West on N Road. I am particularly fond of SR because it is the journal that published the first story I wrote that I felt was complete and whole. It's available in issue IV. West on N Road is a longer piece, but I hope you'll read it. Another one, a sort of prequel, will be out in Per Contra soon.

For kicks, and because I begged him, Chris drew up an older Rattle for me, which I love. This piece captures a part of his final journey (it is not the end).

Rattle for West on N Road by Christopher J Shanahan

I find that images are very powerful ways to bring out stories, so in lieu of a textual prompt this week, try to write to the following image. Just examine in a while, set a timer for 20 minutes, and GO!

Have a great week, all! xo Jen

Gratitude and gumbo

I hope you had a wonderful thanksgiving if you celebrate the holiday and are reading this. My Thanksgiving was quiet. My husband and I didn't travel as planned, so we ended up going to the Riverwalk, and after a short walk I settled in for some gumbo at Luke. Check out that gumbo... man, good stuff. My husband had the more traditional Thanksgiving dinner shown below my beautiful bowl of gumbo. We had a fantastic time, though I missed my friends and family quite a lot. 

After dinner, for some reason, we decided we wanted to buy Christmas lights, and what was open? You got it. Walmart. Bad, bad, bad, bad idea. We walked in and walked out. Did I mention it was a bad idea? It was. 

I have mixed feelings about Thanksgiving. I love the fact that we celebrate in the spirit of gratitude, but the association of binge eating then relaxing, Al Bundy-style, on the couch for hours afterward is enough to feed the global image of American gluttony. Nonetheless, food is fascinating. I watch the Food Network regularly and love to eat and totally understand why so many celebrations come together with food (massive amounts or no). The ritual aspect makes for a good prompt.

Sensory prompt: Write about a celebratory ritual through the preparation of food. The eating itself isn't nearly as important as the cooking - use the prep, the cutting, the baking, the aromas, the conversation, the roles in and outside of the kitchen as your way of progressing time, and portraying a group of people gathered for celebration. Anytime there's a group, family, work, yoga class, college... there is opportunity for conflict as well, so just allow that part to develop on its own. 

Have a wonderful holiday weekend! Relax and eat, if not too much, just enough. Savor the time and the people around you. xo

Room Mag

Well, actually, I'd also like a bunch of material things, such as some new clothes and teas and coffees and maybe a gift certificate or two to a decent restaurant so that I can entertain my fantasy of being a real-life "foodie" and not just live vicariously as I watch the Food Network.

I'm caught up in my wants today for some reason. I blame early Christmas commercials, the music, the wreaths... all of this makes me think of presents. Not just receiving, mind you, but giving as well. I love giving gifts. I enjoy watching someone unwrap whatever material thing I have injected with good intentions and love, especially when the present hits the mark and earns a genuine smile.

As I make my list this year, I can't help but think lists are an excellent device for creative writing. In nonfiction, Lena Dunham's Not That Kind of Girl uses this device expertly. Leonard Michaels' "In the Fifties" is a good example as well, a listing that becomes a sketch of a narrator's experience of an era. 

I think it would make a good prompt for fiction. Each list item can help the progression and smooth out an otherwise more erratic delivery. I'm going to do this prompt with you, that is, if you do it...

Write a short list of presents, for Christmas or whatever holiday/birthday that best suits your purpose:
John, socks - silly-themed socks
Candie, self-help books
George, flavored hot chocolates
Mark, a wallet with a foreign coin in it
Terra, crystals and books on crystals, a candle
etc...
Then, beneath each character and present designation, write out the narrator's reasoning--a short sketch that introduces both the person and this person's relationship to the narrator. The challenge is to see if you can tie it all together at the end (a neat little bow, if you will).

Let me know if it's successful. Let me know if it's a disaster. Whatever, I think it will be fun.

I haven't reported much writing news lately, but you know how nothing happens for a while, then bam! There it all is? Well, something like that is going down, so I'll post updates soon. Work is forthcoming in Superstition Review, Sleet Magazine, Room Magazine, and there may be a fiction collection in the near future. Stay tuned...

xo Jen

2014 Halloween prompt

I hope your week was fantastic. Mine was eventful. My husband arrived home after approximately five weeks of travel. He had visited various places in Europe, came back to the states briefly for a trade show in Vegas, then went to Australia and New Zealand. Being alone in our new place was quite nice the first few weeks, then it started getting old and, as you can see from my previous entry, with boredom comes ill-conceived landscaping. (Helpful tip: If you just keep adding mulch, eventually things work out.)

My new fiction writing class began this week. I have 28 students this term, and I am excited to see what they can do. I am also excited to return to my Rattle novel. I have a lot of opportunities in the works concerning completed work, so I am also awaiting many answers... This place of unknowing is both fun and torturous. I know this is all vague, but hopefully good news to come.

You know, I don't usually know what I'm going to suggest as a writing prompt until I get to this point in my blog, but this makes the challenge fun. I usually just draw from whatever I'm thinking about or recently did. Yesterday, I went to a Halloween party and had to improvise my outfit (see right) because my original (a Mona Lisa get-up) hadn't arrived in time. Thanks to a few YouTube videos, Tim Burton, and a lot of experimenting, I put together a costume. My husband bought a mask, and we were set. There were quite a few people at this party, and the costumes were so good that we didn't recognize the folks we knew. Not recognizing who you're speaking with could lead to conflict in the right situation. Bingo! We have a prompt.

Write a story about two characters who know each other. One begins confiding in the other, not realizing who the other is. Go!

Since next weekend is Halloween proper, if you write to this and you'd like me to post your story  (or part of it as a teaser), let me know. 

Tinkering

"If one really loves nature, one can find beauty everywhere.”

-Vincent van Gogh

It has been an interesting week. While my husband is away, now in New Zealand and his time away adding up to about five weeks, I have been getting a little stir crazy. This is partly because I had an outpatient surgery on my ear to remove an ill-placed and "suspicious" mole (redhead problems and, yes, partly why I was drawn to the van Gogh quote). I have been rather irritated by nagging (but not horrible) pain and an inability to wear my hair up comfortably while it heals. 

Meanwhile, I was thrilled to find one of my most personal and intimate pieces of fiction (originally an essay that I decided to get a little more experimental with) was accepted into a notable magazine. More on that soon. And it looks like my first column will be coming out in Fiction Southeast in November (first and second, as it stands now). So the good with the bad. 

To occupy my mind and keep myself busy to distract myself from my ear, I've been doing some yard work. Some pretty shoddy yard work, so much so I don't want to post pics. Okay, here are some pics. I mean... even the one bundle of San Antonio-appropriate flowers I bought is dying after a matter of weeks. I started pouring mulch over dead grass and hoping for the best, and that hasn't worked out so well yet either. 

Perhaps, like most of my artistic ventures, it will eventually morph into something tolerable looking, or I'll just have to tinker forever and the phases will come and go. No matter, I love my backyard.  

Much as I continue to tinker in that wonderful mess you see above, so goes the same for the writing. Writers have to start and restart again. It's the nature of our art, and the trick (as I see it) is just getting started.

Instead of giving you a scenario for a writing prompt today, I thought I'd pick a line and say, "Go!" A friend of mine from undergrad, playwright Jennifer Roberts, suggested this practice one day a long time ago, wherein we would grab a favorite book, open to a random passage, point, write a sentence and say, "Go!" Then, we'd start the timers and write. Clear stories or nonsensical ramblings, it didn't matter. Sometimes we'd share our work, other times not. No pressure, just creation. So, here we go...  

It is hardly surprising that so many people lose their tempers with so many other people. 

-Shirley Jackson, "About Two Nice People"

Write this sentence down, then set the timer for 20 minutes and Go!

*If you have any ideas for the backyard, I'll all ears (well... kind of)

Loosen up

Massage should be covered under everyone's preventative care plans. I truly believe this. That said, when I get a massage, which I try to do as often as finances allow to offset the time I'm hunched over a computer, the therapist always tells me I should come back more often or come back for a longer session next time or try cupping or try hot stones... This is probably part of the routine, the up-sell. But what's not part of the routine is the crunchy, stuck, tight muscles around my shoulders, which don't seem to loosen up, no matter who I go to. I breathe into the muscles deeply, take baths with salts and relaxing bubbles, meditate... nothing helps. More than a few times, I've heard, "Your muscles are the tightest I've seen on a person your size." I've also heard, "You're almost as bad as the bodybuilders that come in." Seeing as how I lift weights once a month, maybe, if I can get on the floor long enough to do a few 5 lb raises to strengthen my triceps before the dog starts walking on my face, the comparison isn't complimentary as much as worrisome. 

On the occasion I am able to get a massage, I always ask the therapist the same thing to divert attention from my stubborn muscles. "I bet you have stories, eh? What's your craziest?" Inevitably, there's an affirmative, and often a story. Herein is this week's prompt:

A massage therapist, male or female, is working on a client who doesn't follow protocol. What does the client do or say? How does the therapist react? Is there awkward small talk? Confrontation? Take it where it goes, and end with the client getting dressed, the therapist outside the door, waiting with a plastic cup of water.    

I'm going to work on my ergonomics and stretching routine this week. I wish you comfort. 

xo Jen

The air is delicious

My new townhouse is located directly behind both an Italian restaurant and a trendy cafe that, together, make my the air smell like a delicious mix of bread-y comfort foods, sugars and spices. My mouth waters every time I go outside. When I was a kid, our house was near a Wonder Bread factory, and every morning as I sat at the bus stop, I closed my eyes and inhaled the rich, soft air. No matter what I went through when I was younger, that smell was like a hug.

This brings me to a new prompt, inspired by the olfactory effect on our memories and sense of self. Have fun with it:

Character X is in an argument with Character Y. Character X is just about to take the argument too far when a smell overcomes both characters. It can be a horrible smell, the burning of plastic or fresh spray of a skunk. Or, it can be a comforting smell, someone barbecuing or a perfume that calls to mind someone now gone. The two characters assign different memories and emotions to the same smell. In the time it takes for them to pause, their worlds are shaken. They return to the argument, but everything has changed.

Have a great week! I'll be posting again soon. In the meantime, I think I'll get something to eat.    

In a hundred years

I'm enamored with Margaret Atwood and always have been. One of my favorite books, Robber Bride, makes my ultra-short list of regular rereads. It is not her most popular book, but the complex story she delivers in a digestible and often-humorous form strikes a cord with this reader. Her work appeals to a sense of living, both in life and beyond it, so it warmed my heart to hear of her participation in the Future Library Project. If you haven't read about it, check it out here. Atwood's future-thinking work is the perfect addition to a library of content that will be unavailable until 2114. To me, this is what writing is about--it's about transcending our experience and exploring it.

As for my own work, here's a new short story. It's on transference and what it means to let go of those you look to for definition, especially when those people are family. Read it at Barnes & Noble, Amazon, or Kobo. I'm moving this weekend, so I'll keep it short (Take my advice: Never move. Never, never!).

Here's your new writing prompt. I came up with this one after a strange incident in my old neighborhood. Have fun with it.

Write a story about a character who is doing something routine (e.g., taking a walk, taking out the trash) when a dog begins to chase him/her. The character runs off-course and continues to run until s/he is in an area of town never before explored. It could be as surreal or normal a place as you'd like, but tell the story of running into something new after running away... Go!

Enjoy your week!

xo Jen

Solitude in a crowded space

“The difference between the almost right word and the right word is the difference between the lightning bug and the lightning.”  —Mark Twain

 

 

The right word makes all the difference because there is always a right word, even though there may be many synonyms. I believe this to be true, and I know a lot of words (that happens to us readers), but sometimes that perfect word doesn't come readily. Sometimes lately, however, I have to go back to a piece dozens of times before that right word comes. I noticed this more in recent years, and it could be just that I am a more conscientious writer. But I can't help but wonder if this is, in fact, a result of knowing more than I used to. 

 

I first heard about the Internet of Things a year ago, but I didn't really care to understand it. Recently,  however, it seems to come up a lot, and now that I know what I do, I can't stop thinking about it. This concept is basically that any device can be connected to any other device, assuming both are connected to an internet source. This means the amount of connected data is so vast that its value is diluted, creating a problem for those looking to answer specific questions from unique connected devices. This is probably not the best definition. Wiki may do it better, but the basic concept is that if we have access to too much at one time, we become overwhelmed and have trouble assigning value to a thing.

 

I feel like much of our lives - being on Facebook and Twitter and Tumblr and Instagram, while also streaming TV and chatting via work computer systems that have completely different rules and protocol than home systems, and playing games, even worrying about identity theft as we enter our credit card numbers into an online service while knowing that hackers are capable of pretty much watching our every move - is a balance between wanting to be heard and wanting to be left alone. It seems very few people don't want at least a little of both, and the way to accomplish that is to streamline what we do. Cut the social media to the bare bones and set time/day limits to use so as to, I don't know, live a little.

 

This is a topic I plan to explore more in a forthcoming blog post, possibly a blog post for Fiction Southeast, but I can't help but think about it as I pack my stuff, preparing for a move, as I realize how many physical objects are being replaced by fewer but more connected objects.

 

This is my prompt for the week (it's connected and a little more abstract than usual):

 

Write about a person who is lonely for whatever reason and reaches out online. Eventually, said person is so connected that he or she loses track of his/her individuality. But write about this person from either another character's POV or from a third-person POV. Write about this person's life as her/his identity fades and fragments, and decide if there is a solution that eventually brings solidification. Maybe this is a good thing, maybe not.   

 



I think this will be a particularly challenging one. I think I'll pack another box before I try it. :)

Have a beautiful weekend, all! And if you're in the states, enjoy the extra day.

xo Jen

A few things I think I know about moving

We’re moving! Chris and I found a place that has a big backyard and just enough room for us, and we’re finally getting out of the mega-complex apartment living. No more creaky footsteps at 2 a.m., no more hearing the neighbor burp and cough and groan from the bathroom, and no more parking wars. We’ll have our own spot! Can you feel my excitement? Cause it’s there. Big time.

Though we’ll still be renting, this is a big move for us, and the quality of life factor will go from about 2 to about 8, assuming there are no angry ghosts or secret mold issues in this place that we haven’t realized. In preparation for our big move, I’ve learned a few things and I thought I’d share. Here they are:

•  If you have a bunch of books to sell to Half-price or another such place, take them in installments. They will give you the exact same amount for two boxes (at least around here) as they will one.
• Double-check the donation box for things you actually want to keep before handing it over. It’s really embarrassing to say, oh, actually, can I have that one dress back?
• The unpacked boxes from the last move probably don’t need to move with you because they’ll probably remain unpacked. Unload the unneeded.
• Try to get a lot done on the weekends and not continuously ask your boss to leave early during lay-off season.
• Research the best set-top boxes and streaming for Internet and cable (there’s a lot of value variance).
• If you write, still make time to write, even though you have less than half of half of the time you used to.

I’ll have more later, I’m sure. So. Much. Work. To. Do.

I have a writing prompt this week. A quick aside: I try to write to all these, too, so if you ever come up with something you'd like to share, let me know. I'd love to read it, and if you'd like, post it.

And... here it is...

A middle-aged character just moved and is shopping for the first time at the new neighborhood grocery. S/he’s loving it—just look at that organic section!—until s/he begins to feel as though s/he’s being followed. S/he imagines s/he’s being paranoid, jokes with the person offering samples of cheese, and hears someone laugh from behind. When s/he turns around, someone is there from a past the character thought s/he’d left behind.  

I wish you all a wonderful week. I have a few weeks yet till I move, but I’ll post pics soon. 

xo Jen

Uncertain

Life is uncertainty. That's a given. (Get it?)

I returned from Nebraska after a brief but great visit with my father and step-mom, and I feel renewed. To be completely honest, I didn't feel so great before I left. I felt numb a lot of the time, going through the motions. Not depressed, not sad. Just not much of anything. I explained this to a few folks, and they said it was likely burnout. Judging from the fact that the trip helped so much, I think they were on to something. I came back to some tough news, potentially scary news, but instead of feeling panic and instead of feeling nothing, I just felt okay. Some time to write: that's the cure.    

Below is a poem I wrote for and in honor of the Art Farm, a residency like no other. I recommend it to the hardest-core of hardcore writers (badasses only). Below that is some lit news and a short prompt. I wish you all a wonderful week.

BEING the FARM

We arrive, carry art on our backs or balance it on our heads

like books as we walk slow, sleepy circles in order to reach

the straight line time dances around, just ahead, and we

live in heat, for wind, with an ailing raccoon whose pupils

have narrowed with sunlight and the flies that clean their legs on our

swatters as they eye our compost—the mound of decay that gives life.

We work, painting walls, digging trenches, burying waste,

watching the leaking water with worried eyes and grubby

hands that, together, have raised a substantial roof; and we

wander, meeting those in town who know those

near town, who know those mothers and fathers of those

in surrounding towns, who know—all of them—Ed; therefore, us.

We live without time, find our way home, think back, send treasure maps,

reconnect and feel our roots pulling us back toward shared grounds where

Arctic winds, warmed by the reach to Nebraska, embrace and kiss corn 

as we remember walking the silky rows, beneath an expanse of blue and above

dust and clay that is thrust up by truck wheels and embedded beneath our skin as we

wave each other on by, growing smaller in reflective mirrors but no less a part of the farm. 

Here is a prompt based on my time at the Art Farm:

Write about excess. A character whose life is over-filled with stuff is forced to live without. How does s/he change? There is a lot of potential here to use humor.  

Literary news: New fiction is forthcoming in Per Contra (read the current issue for some great work!) and elsewhere. More soon... 

xo Jen 

To Go On

“Write while the heat is in you. … The writer who postpones the recording of his thoughts uses an iron which has cooled to burn a hole with.”  

—Henry David Thoreau

I am in my last week at the Art Farm residency, and it's finally a nice, cool day. We had some days so humid they seemed to squeeze you like a lemon while multiplying the already-prevalent bugs and insects that seem to dive-bomb here. 

I wanted to share a writing prompt because it seems something that could cross over to other aspects of life and, more, it seems to be my first no-fail method to get something meaningful on the page. Of course it is simple:

Sit down with computer or pen and pad and cellphone. Set the alarm for 10 minutes. Open an old piece (something in-progress or old; or, if you have nothing, read a short story and pick up where the writer left off, keep going with the characters). The prompt is only this: write for the full 10 minutes. Nonstop. Set the alarm and don't allow yourself to move or stop. Then, if on a roll, reset after the alarm sounds. Simple. Works miracles.

I'm up to page 60 on the new novel, and I attribute this largely to this method because, oddly, I can feel very busy at Art Farm and get distracted. I have had work here and an odd allergic reaction to something that has given me bad hives... all these things could be excuses, but no. I wrote. And I did not make it negotiable. Here are a few more images from Nebraska...  

Back to the fun stuff for now... I visited Aurora for the first time yesterday and helped an artist friend set up at the farmer's market. There seems a dynamic community here, with a strong motorcycle culture, which is great for my character Rattle (who can plan these things?!). 

Other interesting new facts about Nebraska:

• There is a town called Worms, which contains a bar called Nightcrawlers and a church.
• Most of the corn around me is ethanol corn.
• It seems, everyone loves the Cornhuskers.
• North Platte has a rich history and a book about it, and I have met a lot of folks with colorful stories about it (too bad I won't get a chance to visit).
• Marilyn Monroe and butter is all over everything at LuLu's Steakhouse in Chapman, NE, where the chicken friend steak is as big as the plate and a single waitress runs the joint on a Saturday night.
• There is every type of tick known to man here.
• Raccoons should not be out in daylight.

Have a great week, and I wish you phenomenal weather where you are. 

A non-writing day at the writing residency

I’ve been at the Art Farm for six days, and I think I’ve seen every type of spider known to man. As of today, I have declared war on spiders, and after a nasty bite on my ankle I have no regret smashing one beneath my tennis shoe or even, since I’m a hardcore NE artist now, between my fingers if given the chance.

I’ve been walking the cornfields, on average 8 miles a day, and working the land. I haven’t been wearing any makeup, which is a sobering thing—amazing how ingrained that part of my routine was—and I’ve been making decisions based on the experience I’ll have, rather than the practical or easy thing to do (I don't have to squeeze twenty things into twenty minutes right now. I can do one thing, and that's okay.). There’s some life lesson here, I’m sure.

But I want to talk about Grand Island. I went into town with an artist-friend
who was planning to pick up two bison skulls that play some role in a traditional Native American sun dance, which, she says, she’s done ten years running. She invited me, but I don’t want to commit myself for so many days of my residency. That said, I was tempted and I was glad to spend a day with her to pick her brain a little. Experience is everything, and mine has been so limited in general.

We went to a thrift store that was open. The man who greeted us did so by saying they were closed. His wife yelled from the back, “Get them out of there! We’re closed.”

“But they’re just looking around,” he said in our defense. When I told the woman I was here from San Antonio, she softened and said that was a hell of a long way.

We went to more thrift stores after, then antique stores, metal recycling (see image), then plastic recycling (“1-7 only, not sure where you can get rid of anything but 1-7”), then the hardware, then Hi-V (the local grocery), and by the end of our travels I believe we may have seen all of downtown Grand Island.

One of the most notable stops was at Quality Industrial Sewing, where a man named Ron showed us a sewing machine that could penetrate eight layers of leather. My friend bought it, and in turn Ron showed us his back room, where he has restored three hot rods. He told us how the design for a bachelor’s car differed from that of a family man’s, and how his air conditioning was reserved for those cars, to keep them in good shape when we asked why it was nice and cool in that room but not where we entered (the official store part).

Finally, after some light grocery shopping, we went to an Antique Mall, where I bought a book that will find its way into my writing for many years to come, I believe. Here’s a short excerpt from the Manners at the Table section:

“Do not blow food to cool it. Do not pour hot drinks into saucers to cool them. Hold a bone on both ends with the tips of the fingers on both hands when it is necessary to pick it up. Do not let crumbs or liquids cling to the lips. Do not lick the lips conspicuously. Do not ask for something on another person’s plate…”

Or this one from The Attractive Figure:

“Our mode of living during this twentieth century has established the ideal figure for a woman as one that is slender without being scrawny; lithe, sure, and quick-moving. Women do things nowadays. They are champions at sports, they follow careers, they drive cars, they keep homes and personal interests thriving side by side. The fragile woman, or the woman with too much avoirdupois, cannot keep pace with the present mode of living.”

—Capper, Arthur (Editor), The Household Searchlight Homemaking Guide, 1937

This book tells one everything from how to properly eat vegetables to how to throw a successful “Hobo Get-together” party. My life is changed forever. (Talk about endless material!)

Verdict: Downtown Grand Island, which is the big city compared to Marquette, NE where I am staying, is charming. The people are kind and, more, content. I was struck, in fact, with how content everyone seemed, right down to the woman who didn’t want us shopping her thrift after-hours (but ended up letting us buy things after all). There are some parts of the US in which folks don’t always want to be elsewhere and where you can find antique gems and recycle with gusto while maintaining a slow and steady pace.

I enjoyed my non-writing day, my company, and the town of Grand Island so much, in fact, that I may have to have another non-writing day at some point during this residency.  

In residence

The Art Farm is its own world, one in which, I’m finding, artists and writers are forced to discover who they are and what they can handle. The owner, Ed, is an artist who spends half of his time in New York and half of his time here in Marquette, Nebraska, where the last census I could find put the population at around 226. Ed is stoic and hardworking, and his calm demeanor seems to quietly affect all of the residents here. So far, I have met musicians, painters, book binders, writers, and I will meet more artists over the next two weeks.

We work 12 hours a week, and so far my work has included erecting and moving scaffolding and helping to dig a hole for a new septic tank (glam-or-ous). I feel hearty. The landscape, however, is precisely as I pictured: rows of corn surround the art farm in four square mile blocks. I’ve taken to walk this four-mile loop mornings, before it gets too hot. I have a good chunk of my work out of the way for the week, so now I am digging into the writing.

I can’t say that I am uncomfortable, but it’s funny the things that I notice here I was not prepared for. One of my boxes hasn’t yet arrived, and it has my contacts and most of the food I shipped myself, and because I am one of the residents without a car, I have to rely on the kindness of others—and wise grocery shopping choices when I do go to town.

Survival aside, the social aspect is interesting. Everyone is nice, and the unexpected comes daily. There were a group of walkers led by “recovering politician” Ed Fallon, heading through yesterday. They are part of The Great March for Climate Action, and their route will take them from Los Angeles to Washington DC. They camped out on the grounds, all ages and shapes and personalities, all dedicated. They were very interesting folks, some of which gave up their jobs and even their homes to take this hike across the states to stand up for what they believe in. 

As for solitude, I have been finding it when I seek it out. The Farm House, where I’m staying, does not have internet, so staying there is a great place to work without much distraction. That said, I am staying on the second floor where there is supposedly and likely a ghost. She may prove a distraction.

I have been writing here and there. I wrote a piece about Rattle as an old man, an old man who walks around a park and who is covered in tattoos that tell, if not his life story, his life philosophy. He reconnects with some of his children in this piece. I am trying to revisit WE ARRIVE UNINVITED as well, since a few agents have been interested in it from reading the first 50 pages, then requesting the full have given me a "close but…" 

Writing is hard work, and there is little, if no, instant gratification. Likewise, restoring a 12,000 square foot family farm in rural Nebraska forces a person to slow down. In this way, both my writing and this residency demand that I stay in the moment and dedicate myself to the nature of right now. After all, when disconnected for the every-micro-second filled eWorld, one is reminded that nature ultimately rules, and we are the mercy of her rhythms and temperament. 

Enjoy your every moment in the week to come. -Jen

Bottoms up

"Rock bottom became the solid foundation on which I rebuilt my life." — J.K. Rowling

 
Tell it, J.K. 


Image from the San Antonio Express News

I started writing this blog on the 4th of July. I started by saying: Break out the grill and loud colors and raise your flag. Enjoy your day off. Then I got distracted by other things, so here I am on the 5th of July. Happy belated Independence day!

I rarely read front page news because a. the stories are usually depressing and b. I usually don't have time. But, I had an extra day off yesterday, and I kicked it off by reading news. the top five stories were about Putin's kind words to Obama, a father who was sexting six women while his son died from heat exhaustion in the back of his car, F-35 war planes grounded for technical check-ups, and a mother and son who were trapped in a sinkhole. There's a little balance there, but I was quickly reminded why I don't make it a priority to read the news.
Next, I started writing this blog. Cue distraction: Homemade kimchi and a small cookout. Our veggie skewers tasted like lighter fluid but a series of successful food items followed, including veggie burgers for me (which could have been redundant) and a giant steak (see below) for my husband, along with a few gluttonously stuffed shitake mushrooms. We ate, we watched some fireworks on TV, we walked a block to watch fireworks in person and the rain tapped us on the shoulders until, finally, we turned back around and went home to watch more fireworks on TV. I consider that a successful holiday. Also, I came up with a writing prompt:



My husband's meal
before attempted theft.
(Note puppy face lower right.)

Scroll back up to the J.K. Rowling quote. This is the premise: a character who hits rock bottom. To make the plot a little more interesting, let's throw some karma in. What you put out, comes back is the idea here. Write a story in which the main character is going through a tough time, but his/her fate is determined with a simple action that seems unrelated (think specific). Resolve the story based on this small action. This could mean an act of kindness leading to another's act of kindness that resolves our protagonist's conflict later. Or, it could mean an act of selfishness leading to a dismissal when our protagonist is in need. Keep it to 1,500 words.

That's all I have for today, folks. If you write to any of my prompts, feel free to share the writings below. Or email them to me. I might love it an want to post it on my blog.

Speaking of which, I have a new story out that will be posted soon. Make that two, but I'll link them up later in the week. One's about a nudist who defines freedom a little differently than you and I (presumably); the other is about a dreamer who is disappointed in her dreams but realizes the reality she has is pretty good. I'll post these soon.

 

 

Memory and distraction

Yesterday is but today's memory, and tomorrow is today's dream.

 --Khalil Gibran

Do you ever get creeped out by the fact that just about everyone around you is looking down at a cellphone with the glazed-eyed look of a Vegas slot machine addict? I do.

I was walking my dog the other morning before work, and I happened to forget my cellphone. I have been forgetting things a lot lately, but ordinarily I do not forget my cell. I felt a little awkward without it, as though I was missing something important--the house key, for instance, or pants. But then I decided to embrace it. There was life around me to soak in, after all. Thick heat, mosquitoes and loud trucks.

Actually, it was a beautiful day, if a little muggy, and with no headphones or potential calls or dings from texts, I decided to take in the world during a time I would usually be listening to an audio book or music. The few people I saw out walking that early were face down, absorbed in their texting or posting or quick news updates. In a way, it was creepy, yes, but it was also freeing. I kept thinking that I had the world to myself and I was safe because if someone were to try to attack or rob me, they'd likely first be interrupted by a text from a cousin or a Facebook post from that guy who lives down the street and forget about knocking me down for a ten dollar bill or a credit card. I felt almost invisible, but it wasn't me blocking out the world. It was the world blocking me out.

Don't get me wrong, I don't have my cellphone everywhere. I do have times when I run or do somehting consciously without it. But this routine was one in which I usually had headphones and was pleasantly distracted by an audio book or music. It was just paying attention to a routine route during which I am usually distracted. I remembered what it used to be like walking around the world without being so interconnected electronically and disconnected physically. The memories of this previous time were wearing thin. 

Back to memory. I have this theory that all this interconnectedness is killing my memory because it's killing my attention span. I'm so easily distracted. At a work lunch not long ago, a friend told me about a memory technique he'd read about called the memory palace. The basic principle is to associate a familiar landscape (a palace or a map or some other landscape) with what you'd like to remember. I have a pretty good memory for numbers but have trouble with names and faces, as well as remembering passages that I love from books. I remember how they make me feel, but am usually unable to recite or recall the actual words.

After reading about this technique in Moonwalking with Einstein, I set out to memorize "Spring and All" by William Carolos Williams.

"By the road to the contagious hospital
under the surge of the blue..."

This was a tough one to start with, but I did it. I memorized the thing in a night using the techniques outlined in the above book by assigning absurd images to each turn of action or description. But more, I used focus. As I did other things: cleaning, grading, walking my dog, I kept bringing my mind back to the poem. I associated vivid imagery to all of the stanzas. "By the road to the contagious hospital/under the surge of the blue/mottled clouds driven from the/northeast - a cold wind" became the Mucinex man (from the commercials), standing by the road to a germy-looking cartoon hospital, beneath a blue race car surging in the sky, then models driving from the east coast, cold because they don't have any meat on their bones... and so on. It worked! After making all these wild associations, I had the poem memorized and then was able to really break down the meaning in my mind, allowing the images to become mere reference for the turns.

It is amazing what focus can do, even for the folks with feeble memories, such as yours truly.

So, this week's prompt:

Memorize a poem, a short one, and then write or paint or draw the story you find behind what you envision, no matter how wild and nonsensical. Find the absurd in the astute, and do so in less than 1,500 words.

We're at the end of June, so have a wonderful 4th of July and/or start to July.

Jen





Self promo (now a weekly event): Don't Tease the Elephants, available for Kindle for $2.99. Ways to consume: Buy it, then read it, send it to a friend, send it to your G-ma, read it again and aloud, on the bus, loan it to people who will disagree politically and emotionally and spiritually, argue with them. Maybe agree with them. Read the stories to get angry. Read them and write searing reviews. Write glowing reviews. Don't write reviews. Eat eggs while you read it. Drink coffee. Read it on the stationary bike. Read it at stop lights. Read it at the mall. More suggestions to come.   

Plateaus

“You can practice shooting eight hours a day, but if your technique is wrong, then all you become is very good at shooting the wrong way. Get the fundamentals down and the level of everything you do will rise.”  

—Michael Jordan

I've been digging Michael Jordan quotes lately. This one especially because it speaks to the spinning of wheels that happens when we plateau. This is relevant to me because have been feeling kind of stuck lately, frustrated that I have yet to find the right agent/publisher and have been unable to really work on my longer projects. Because I have a concentrated amount of time coming up for a writing residency this summer, I want to break this feeling. Now! 

This isn't the first time I have felt as though I should be progressing faster than I am. I have quite a few experiences with plateauing. I used to train for road races, for example, and I remember wondering why I could never seem to break the 40 minute 5-mile time. My frustration seemed to grow, but my times were not getting faster. Thing is, I was doing the same workouts every week, just trying harder. My training never seemed to get much easier, so I never moved beyond. I figured if I kept at it every day, eventually it would just feel more natural and then I could try a little harder. Doing the same routes again and again means getting stuck, and, more, it tends to mean my heart isn't in whatever I'm doing.  

Mastery is a slow process because a number of steps precede it. The 10,000 hours or so that make an expert, however, don't do it on their own. There has to be some deliberate methodology for all those hours, clear growth. This is something I've come to learn over quite a bit of failure and a few successes. The things that remain important day in and day out should be invested in. But, we also have to figure out how to best plan our journey forward. 

Over the last week, I have been reminded numerous times how important community is. Broadening our community is what helps us to push boundaries because it allows us to see things in new ways. We must continue to challenge ourselves, and if we can't figure out how to do so, look outside self. Inspiration is everywhere. See those who are doing what you want to do, and ask yourself what they're doing differently. This is something I have to remind myself of often. Appreciate, challenge self, and learn.


For me, a more varied and strength-based training session every week helped me to prepare. The day came when I breezed through a race, and reached my goal. I remember being baffled by how easy it felt once I reached it, and I quickly forgot how impossible it once seemed. Such things can happen again.  

I think the h is implied

This week's prompt:

Write about a character who feels stuck, in some respect. This could mean she's stuck in a dead-end job, or he's stuck in a pattern of over-consumption. Whatever's sticking in his or her life, this character needs change. Write 1,000 words about the attempt to break through. And whether or not goals are reached, the journey will encompass awkwardness, struggle and realization. Sometimes, we plateau because we're happy where we are. Sometimes because we're just not going about things logically. Many endings are possible, and I think this will be a fun one to write.

I'm personally going to torture this character, and I'll have fun doing it. Ah, the joys of writing. 

In a way, perhaps these prompts are going to help me to break through my rut, and, as I said earlier, so is community. Looking outside. For a long time, all I read was the type of stuff I wrote (literary fiction), but I have been using my nightly reading time to consume more poetry and nonfiction and have been challenging myself (as one must do post-schooling) to learn about new things. I started reading about memorization techniques, and a friend challenged me to memorize "Spring and All" by William Carlos Williams in a night--to put said techniques to the test. I'll talk more about my experience with this next week (I really will because I have a lot to say about it), but let me just say now that given my feeble memory with its sad track record, this was WAY out of my comfort zone, and it was comical but also rewarding. This is what community does. Little nudges.    

Have a great week all, and if you have the drive, drive yourself right outside of that comfort zone a little just to see. 

Jen  

*Self promo: My new chapbook (available on Amazon in eForm) is on giveaway again at Goodreads. Check it out, if you want to win a free hard copy. It's short and sweet. Read it, add it, show it love. I appreciate the read and would love to know what you think.