Sweet stuff

I've been posting a lot about meditation, general health and wellness, cooking more whole foods, eating veggies, exercising mindfully, etc... and I still am. But today's post is no healthy writer post. This week has been overflowing with the sweet stuff, the decadence.

My intentions were good. I brought home a single 1.7 ounce Vermont-shaped container of maple syrup for myself and quite a few maple leaf-shaped deals for friends. This was strategic thinking as the stuff is like crack, not that I've done crack, and I have very little restraint when it comes to such sweetness.

Also particularly saccharine this week is the fact that I'm reunited with my husband, who had to leave in a mad dash six hours after I got back from Vermont, who I barely got a chance to hug before having to drive him to the airport. We had three weeks apart. But yesterday, we were really reunited. We had waffles with that amazing maple syrup, took a long walk, practiced our respective art, and then went out for a healthy vegan meal followed by the most ridiculous dessert martini at SoHo on the Riverwalk in San Antonio to celebrate a friend's birthday. (I'm still feeling a sort of sugar buzz from this thing; in fact, my body might be in shock for a week. I was drinking the one on the right.)

Insanity aka the SoHo's Creme Brulee and Samoa martinis shown here.

This week has also been filled with literary sweetness. Here's a glimpse:

• The release of The Istanbul Review, VII, in which I have a longer piece of fiction. (The shipping is high for those in the U.S., but this publication is available on iTunes and will soon be available on Kindle as well.)
• The release of Versus, by many of my favorite poets who are all writing on a list of topics that, well... I just can't wait to read this book.
• Two acceptances recently, one of which was in Monkeybicycle, one of my long-time, all-time favorite online publications.
• Oh, and I finished a new flash piece I'm quite fond of this week. 

With the sweet, there is always the difficult. I'm off to reconcile a few writing dilemmas:

One is in a short piece I wrote. As I began the piece, I found the character came to life quickly and seemed to fit a particular name but the name was also somewhat awkward and jarring to the flow of the piece which is very important to me. My writing has to be read-out-loud friendly. But, my dilemma is whether I should keep the character with the name that seems most appropriate and get over my style obsession or compromise her initial portrait for style's sake. I'm leaning toward the latter, but I'm still unsure.

Also on my agenda, writing-wise, is another new character. Like Wallace (a character that recurs in my work and will be a highlight in my novel), I have a new character that seems to want to appear and reappear in my work. His name is Rattle, and two of his stories have been picked up already. I am very eager to see what people think of him. My dilemma here is, if I allow this character to grow and emerge through different short stories, should I also give him a voice? The difference with Wallace is, I always tell the story through his POV or a close third-person narration. Meanwhile, I have written all of Rattle's stories in first person, but never from his perspective. I guess that will be a question better answered when the publications come out, but I am excited about this guy. He's still mysterious enough to me to write quite a bit more about.

We'll see how it all works out. Such writing dilemmas are a good thing. They mean my gears are going. VSC really got me back into the writing swing. And if there's such a thing as residency addiction, I think it's already kicking in because I'm already thinking about my next (month-long) residency, and how I can make this happen. There has to be a way. Focused energy allows so much. It really does.

Before I sign off, I thought I'd share this because this blog is about my writing journey. Below is a taping of my reading from KGB. The awesome Michael Dickes took the footage, and Joani Reese delivered the MP4. If it doesn't work, sorry. I noticed I say um a lot when introducing my work. I guess that's why it's good to tape these things... Anyway, it's really dark but the sound is good. Once I get into the reading, I stop saying um, promise.

Read here is "Getting There" which appears in PANK and a short essay about my Grandpa Homer and a falcon that originally appeared in Narrative Magazine as "Columbus, Ohio." I had so much fun in NYC. Invite me back, NYC!

Have a good week all!

Week 1

Snow drift early this morning over
the mountains

It has been one week since I landed in Burlington, Vermont and took the shuttle to the small town of Johnson, where the population comes in well under 4,000 and the maple candy is pure. It has been as low as -15F since I've been here, and oh yes, there has been snow. We didn't get hit hard at all by the blizzard, but what reached us was the most snow I've seen at once in a long time.

I was thrilled because I was able to take pictures with my phone today. In the airport, on the way here, I had dropped my phone on the bathroom floor, and it fell to pieces. I was able to put it back together; however, I didn't realize at the time that I had lost my micro-SD card, which meant I couldn't store anything on my phone, including pictures. But, I got a new one last night and voila! I took these on my early morning walk... a few pics post-yesterday's snow. I have to say, it really is like being inside of a snow globe.


It's a little snowier now

If you are considering a residency but have yet to make up your mind as to whether to apply, do! The food is good, the people are cool (though I guess the people would always be different), and the value of free time to write is, as MasterCard would say, priceless TM (they did trademark that, right?). Also, Johnson, VT is adorable. There's pizza, wing, and Chinese restaurants downtown. No grocery store since the flood, but a pretty handy gas station and another deli that sells wine and snacks. There's a headshop (smokeshop), an art store, Ebenezer Books on Main, a cool little coffee shop, a P.O., and a laundromat. That's pretty much the extent of it, but let's be honest, any more would just be distraction.

I am happy to say that I was productive my first week. I have 25 badass pages of revised novel and 160 pages to revise. But, I've done some major adjustments to the book I'm working on here that I think are changing the pace of things dramatically. One of the residents here said something that struck me the other day. He said that if you're not interested in your own work, no one else will be. You have to be excited about it as you create, and if you are, that's exactly how you know you're on the right track. I agree. When I first started on this piece here, I wasn't excited. I just wanted to finish a novel. Now, I'm thrilled. In fact, I want to see what happens next as much as I would if I were reading someone else's work.

Along with my badass novel revision/additions, I have written two new stories top to bottom that star the same character, only neither story is told from his perspective. These new pieces were inspired partly by my interest in animal trivia (in case you haven't noticed) and some of the nature stories I've heard here in Vermont. I developed a rather oddball character, but I love him. I think he's interesting enough to have an entire collection of work devoted to him. We'll see. I hope to write at least one more piece with him in it while here.


So, yeah, I'm energized and ready to write some more. (Conversely, this cold wears a person out! I'm exhausted by 6PM.) I'm technically more than half-way through the residency, so here's to hoping I can get to page 100 of the novel. If I can, I think I could get it ready for an editor by early summer.

In the meantime, please read my new experimental piece in Stone Highway Review. You can read it for free here, or you can support a lit mag and get the beautiful printed version here (see right for the cover image). Thank you, Mary Stone Dockery and Kate Longofono, for putting together such a beautiful body of work. Also soon to come out is the beautiful new issue of Lost in Thought Magazine, which is put out by Kyle Schruder and Robert Vaughan. I got my proof yesterday, and I can't wait to read (and see) the whole thing.

I also had three pieces accepted into the Eunoia Review, which should be appearing this summer. Thanks, Ian Chung, for the mega acceptance. It sure set the right mood when I got here.

Talk about good vibes in Vermont. Now, back to it... I only have a week left!

Read, Walk, Repeat

Over the weekend, I thought a lot about Vermont but did nothing to prepare. It's less than a month away, and I have quite a bit to do, but it feels years off for some reason. Or maybe it doesn't feel real. So what did I do this weekend instead? Not much, and it was wonderful. I read and I walked. 

Reading:

On my list this weekend was Miranda July's No One Belongs Here More Than You. I bought the book after listening to the "The Swim Team," a short story in this collection, online. That story remains my favorite of the collection. For me, the reading of this book was kind of like buying an entire album because you love a single. July's stories are consistently good, insightful, and oddly humorous; but, I found the novelty of her style lost on subsequent stories. That said, I think this is a book I'll return to, one story at a time. Altogether, the thing blurs. 

I also read Sherman Alexie's Blasphemy because a friend was posting about it on Facebook, and again, I have loved the few short stories I've read by Alexie, and I enjoyed Smoke Signals, but I've never read an entire book of his. I'm only a few stories in, and so far, I rather love this collection. His prose is easy to get lost in. As a reader, I forget the literature of the thing and just enjoy and appreciate; also, I'm consistently caught off-guard by the characters. Alexie has his tells--I can't think about his stories without thinking cling peaches and  tender but distanced male narrators, for instance--but his work feels new and surprises all over again each time I read him. So far, anyway. Also on my reading list this weekend were the January issue of THRUSH, a few stories at Carve, and quite a few articles. 

I read a dozen stories for PANK (I'm back at it, so blame me), and I read two friends' works. Somehow, I also managed to begin watching Game of Thrones (first season). I'm already committed to watch the rest, so I suppose that's an endorsement in of itself, but will reserve judgement until I get through Season I. 

Walking: 

Along with my modest workout routine, I found myself walking quite a bit. My husband resolved to get in better shape this year, and I want to be a part of it, so we are beginning slow: a walk with the occasional jog around a 2.5 mile loop near our home. And because my dog still expects his 2 mile walks on weekend mornings, and subsequent daily strolls, it all added up to a nice amount of fresh air, which is something I had no idea how much I needed. Walking time is meditation time. Well, unless we see the neighborhood skunk. 

When we began dating almost ten years ago, Chris and I would walk in the fancy-pants neighborhoods in Columbus and talk about what we wanted to do and how we had to make it possible. I've rarely but longingly thought of those walks, and now that we're back at it, I feel that old sensation of optimism and hope I had as a beginning writer and college student. As we discuss our goals nowadays, we are focusing on timing our walks and plan to shave a minute off each day. Small goals are the best goals.

So basically I was just entertained all weekend. And I took a lot of walks. How lucky was that? Now, for a full week of being back to the daily chores/obligations/routines. In the meantime, please send me some good vibes. My short story chapbook is a finalist for the Black River Chapbook Competition at Black Lawrence Press. I tend to be the literary equivalent of always-the-bridesmaid-never-the-bride, so I'll accept my finalist status as my own personal win. But man, I'd love to work with BLP. We'll see.  

I wish you all a wonderful week. Read and walk, if you find the time. Both are curative.  

Broad Strokes / The Poetry of Place

Ohio:

When I think of my hometown, I see the small cow pastures that I would drive by on my way to work, that signaled the edge of OSU’s agricultural school on Kenny Road. It was one of the first roads I ever drove, long and straight, leading from Grandview to Upper Arlington. It was the way to my mother’s apartment, the way to avoid 315. It was the way to Half-Price Books and Caribou, where I first felt the privilege of being a college student with my very own laptop and homework to do. It was the road to the apartment I would share with my husband before he became my husband, when we owned a small blue parakeet—the muse for my first published essay.

Vermont:

The benefit of silence. The mountains were so beautiful that it seemed ridiculous I could awaken to them every morning. The drastic differences, American lifestyles that could sell the dream. Vermont is where I found myself overstimulated as an MFA student, where I studied literature and writing for two years. Here were people who lived in nature, with so little concrete, without loud screaming and sirens and men hanging out car windows asking 'to get that number'. Artists. Trust funds to student loans. Remarkably talented people. ABCs. A professor who asked me how I possibly got in; I never stopped asking myself that same question. (I had catching up to do.) The mountains helped, close and unlikely friendships helped. The beauty of it seemed so distant from me, and yet now a part of my memory—a thing that can’t be taken, memory. Enlivening.

Texas:

Building a life with my husband, working harder than we imagined we’d have to in order to pay off student loans: the next bubble. Texas is filled with memories of Ohio; calls to family. Pictures from Vermont; emails to friends. A community I feel slightly unable to understand. A town hall meeting that condones guns for self-defense. Volunteer work. News stories of border wars. The honor of teaching. The students who amaze and inspire, who constantly challenge.

The longing to go somewhere else, where I’ll better fit; the bills that keep us here. A beautiful family that makes location matter less. A husband, who encourages me to write. Friends who teach me about astrology, fiestas and magic. God peddling couples at my door each weekend. The best food of the three states; a second language; breakfast tacos; a proud town of transients, traditionalists, soldiers, students and those looking for work. A nice stop.

The promise of somewhere new.

Written for "The Poetry of Place" -> hosted by Walter Bjorkman -> language / place carnival