Observations: April, 2017

My father once told me he'd been a genius for a few days. For fewer than a hundred hours in his life, sometime in his early forties, everything made sense. All the pieces fit, and everything felt easy to him. In those days, art flowed (he's a visual artist), math was cake, the right word was always on the tip of his tongue. Answers came readily, and nothing felt overwhelming. The universal codes seemed to materialize everywhere. Then, he said, as fast as the feeling came, it disappeared.

I like to believe those genius days hit us all, though they will sometimes be more dispersed - seconds or minutes spread out over a lifetime. I woke up this morning, after what I think was a brilliant dream, worrying that all of my genius time will be spent asleep. One can hope we all have a few minutes to come.

Some observations from last month:

• Today's terrorized are tomorrow's terrorists.
• If you trust that people can rise to the occasion, good or bad, they usually will.
• Belief in one's self is easy for a day, but becomes tougher to maintain as time passes.
• Writers need to constantly remind themselves to value their words and value their time.
• As I get older, I know what I like and I know what I don't like (but sometimes I still realize I'm wrong).
• Artists need to fight harder, write/create more. #resist
• Buying a house now is like building on a cliff when the view is most beautiful, just before the rampart begins to crack below us.
• College lectures make me happy.
• Human connections are everything.
• A society is only as fiscally healthy as its people are physically healthy.
• I should probably start journaling during these dark times. I think we all should.   

Writing News: "Lottery Days" was selected for inclusion in The Best Small Fictions 2017, guest edited by Amy Hempel. It should be out in September, and I'm really thrilled to be a part. I'll post a link when available. Also, The Glass City is in the works and should be out from Hollywood Books International around the same time. I'll post the date soon. In the meantime, I got in a few blurbs. Here's one...

"Jen Knox is a master cartographer of the human psyche. In the stories of The Glass City, she maps the depths and complexity of the human mind against the backdrop of a future so possible yet so surreal that it’s nearly futile to try to set the book down. I kept telling myself, just one more page before bed, just one more story—until I found myself turning the last page in the middle of the night, having forgotten to eat dinner. Ultimately, The Glass City is the miracle of artistic imagination at its absolute peak: read casually, it thrills and entertains us with insightful depictions of who we are; read deeply, it shows us who we can become." 
—Melissa Studdard, author of I Ate the Cosmos for Breakfast

Prompt: Start a story or a piece of art with the line/idea "I never told anyone..." Write as long as you'd like.

xo Jen

Observations: January, 2017

With the new year comes possibility. Sure, many of us are afraid for the health of America's states. We worry about the integrity of our new administration, we worry about basic human rights, we worry that families won't be able to afford basic healthcare and that our educational systems are broken beyond repair, but 2017 could surprise us. Our mistakes and complacency and greed are being amplified, and this can teach us a lot.

We got here together, to a time of disbelief and propaganda-fueled beliefs. We need to listen to each other more than ever before, and we need to talk to each other more than ever before. Things may seem dark, but I believe real change will come from it. In the words of the late Leonard Cohen: "There is a crack in everything, that’s how the light gets in."

In 2016, I learned:

• Family is everything.
• Fear can either be turned into energy or it can sap energy.
• The weak and uninformed follow anyone who gives them a common enemy and an excuse, but there is no enemy greater than hate and division. #resist #listen
• If there was an award for person who places as a finalist in the most contests, I'd win in 2016. (Or be a finalist.)
• I wrote that last bullet point before I got the good news below.
• The word elitist seems to fit as many republicans as it does democrats. 
• When you help someone to achieve their dreams, yours are more likely to come true.
• It's OK to say NO.
• It's not OK to avoid answering questions you don't want to answer.
• I'm getting old. ("I don't understand why these young people don't look people in the eye...")
• Transparency is fine, so long as you're a willing participant.
• With all the loss of talented artists this year, we have a lot of powerhouse angels.
• Art is more important than ever.

In 2017, I will:

• Write unapologetically and as often as I can.
• Stand up for what I believe and listen to those I do not agree with.
• Buy my first home.
• Eat well.
• Exercise well.
• Try new things.
• Call those I love, even when things are going well or I have nothing big to announce.
• Support my writing friends.
• Learn from my students.
• Support my family.
• Tackle big problems one angle at a time.
• Run on my own terms.
• Find the perfect computer bag.
• Age gracefully.
• Drink more water.
• Travel every chance I get.
• Say NO to what is too much without guilt.
• Say YES to what I want but scares me.
• Post to this blog monthly.
• Listen to everything and make the best decisions I can.

I'm excited to announce that my unpublished short fiction collection, The Glass City, won the 2016 Americana Prize for Prose. I'm hoping the book will find its way to print soon. I also received word that my short story "Running Toward the Sun" got finalist status in the Aestas Short Story Competition 2016 and will be published in Fabula Press's Aestas Anthology soon.

Prompt: Write a short story or poem that begins with the line "The curtain parts, and..."