The work

I'm living this novel. I'm drowning in the novel. I'm so deep that I'm unable to fully engage in life without thinking about what I need to change, how to refine, where to expand. This is surreal and special, a sort of space that comes so fleetingly with short stories that it sometimes feels over as soon as it begins.

I'm beginning to see how a novelist finds a rhythm and how reasonable it is to finish a longer work with the luxury of time. But novelists, I'm all the more in awe of your ability to keep track of so much, to not get sidetracked. This is glorious but tough.

It seems the perfect time to do this, like the cards are falling into place. My husband is in Japan, so far away and I miss him so much but his absence leaves quiet. My classwork is over, grades are in. And though I plan to hang out with friends this weekend, to actually relax, I have lots of alone, quiet time to look forward to. I'm rereading one of my favorite books, Shantaram by Gregory David Roberts, and I'm writing, writing, writing.

I'm 42 pages into the revisions. It's humid in Texas, and I'm taking muggy, slow walks with my dog. I'm returning to the page. I'm not watching TV. I'm not spending too much time surfing the Internet or tinkering with shorter stories. The plan is to channel the focus I had at the Vermont Studio Center; I wish I could return, but it's not realistic for me to keep my job and go to a residency every few months, so I'm taking advantage of the quiet and making my own, at-home residency. At least for a few days.

Since I'm drowning in novel, I won't post much more here today. I will say that I hope you all have a wonderful Memorial Day weekend. My undying gratitude, respect and admiration for those who died in service as well as all those who served and serve. My support and love to those who are hurting in Oklahoma. If you're interested in donating to help those whose lives have been upset, I'm sure there are many places to do so, but here's a link: Red Cross Disaster Relief 

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!

Housewives do not have the luxury of ecophobia

I’m reading Tenth of December, and I have to say that George Saunders deserves every bit of praise he has received for this book. What makes him special is that, well, he’s genuinely special. His style is not pretentious or restrained, it's playful and smart and funny; and, and, he’s doing what seems impossible in the literary world: he’s getting acclaim as a short story writer. No stuffy, bogged-down or forced novels needed. His characters know when their time is up, and I can say that each story left me satisfied. Saunder’s crisp, vibrant, free-feeling short stories are changing the scene, and I love him for it. More, I love his interviews. If you want a taste of the fiction, check out the collection's namesake here, published in the New Yorker.

I used to subsist on Hot Pockets. 

Good to know there are now cheaper options out there.

My late-blooming love for George Saunders aside, I came to the realization yesterday that if I was a housewife, I would likely die within a few months. This was a hurtful realization because technically being a housewife for me would just mean not working the day jobs, which would, in turn, allow me to write full-time (I'd still be a housewife, not a writer if one is labeling by the way one actually lives day-to-day ie gets the bils paid). Imagine just working part-time... Imagine how much writing I'd get done! But no, it's not going to happen for me. Not that I'd die of boredom or anything symbolic like that. Like I said, I'd write until I could parlay that into a career. But no, I mean, I worry being home too much would actually be the death of me. I'll explain further, but first, a few items to my credit: I keep a clean home (the husband helps out). I have routines. And, since my health scare and subsequent health kick, I have to admit that I’m getting pretty damn good at cooking. I make salmon, burgers (for the husband), quinoa, salads, dynamite smoothies, guacamole, beans and rice, risotto, and a few other things that aren’t microwavable; but this increased time in the kitchen has directly correlated to the increased number of at-home accidents.

According to a handy estate planning article I came across while researching accidents, an American is killed in an at-home accident every 29 minutes. I have one work-from-home day three weeks out of the month, I spend many weekend hours at home, and the occasional vacation or sick day; but overall, I’m not home much. I work two jobs most of the year, and I write in coffee shops or, if at home, I do not much move from my desk. Still, I manage to find myself post-accident at least once a month. Accordingly, I think my odds are higher than most, and if I were home more my days would be numbered. 

A few months ago, I brunt my cheek with boiling water (the water had oil in it). The mark is fading and I got a good short story idea from the incident, but it was pretty ugly for a while. I was going into the office with a large bandage on my cheek. And seeing as how the office life thrives on gossip, people found his highly intriguing which I, in turn, found highly annoying. So, while healing from that I thought back to my ironing accident after a few days home years ago. I still have a scar on my arm from that, and I thought, hm, maybe I can never be one of those domestic goddesses I admire. Then yesterday, the maybe was erased as I set a giant plastic spoon on fire while making ravioli. The flames were reaching at me, and it was frightening. I'm not exactly sure how it all happened. All I know is that I had given the ravioli a good stir then (in my unhousewifely way) set the spoon down next to the pot. I was able to put the fire out easily enough, but the melted plastic on the stove was a bitch to clean and the smell was, well, the smell of burning plastic. 

Bottom line: I decided yesterday, as I inhaled the post-plastic-melt and apologized to my dog for the scream and frantic running around that I could see was stressing him out, that I will never be a housewife. I'd made this decision when I was a little girl, too, but I just remade it. For practical reasons. My husband and I did enjoy the ravioli though, for the record, as the food itself was not affected.

In writing news, I have contributed a piece of fiction to an anthology geared toward helping the victims of Sandy, the devastating 2012 storm. This anthology is a wonderful effort to help those in New Jersey who are still struggling. You know, we hear about these things and we help immediately, but the aftermath remains. Anyway, if you're a writer or a reader interested, you can get updates on the book, here: OH SANDY! An Anthology of Humor for a Serious Purpose.

Well, if you need me, I'll be spending the weekend packing for Vermont, watching Game of Thrones, and trying to calm my restless mind. Oh, and I have set the goal for myself to write two flash stories this weekend. They can suck, I am allowing myself that right, but they must be written. I need a warm up for the next few weeks. Did I mention I fly out next weekend? I'm excited, a little nervous about not making the most of it, but mostly I'm just thrilled. Damn it, I'm going to get to write!  

Cheers! To the weekend!

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.