I came to a realization the other night about writing, an epiphany which probably seems obvious to writers who've been in the game for a while. Lately, I've been searching for places to submit some of my short, prose fiction. I was about to take down a list of publications when it struck me: What will getting a short story published do for me? What do I hope to parlay out of that experience? Truly, I don't mean to bash short stories, short story publications, or short story writers - "Stories" by John Cheever is one of my favorite books. Forgetting the fact that the competition in the short fiction market is supremely daunting, publication in a small press does not typically equal further accolades, a book deal, or even a relationship with a publisher. So unless I singularly desire to write short stories for a living or see myself as the next Tobias Wolff, it's ridiculous to focus on this form of writing. I would (and hopefully will) be better served focusing on my interest in young adult fiction, screenwriting, satire, comics, and non-fiction prose.
All of this lead me back to an age-old pondering of what it means to be a writer. I used to place a lot of stipulations on this label - before calling myself a "writer," I had to earn some money doing it or, at the very least, see some of my work published. Now, I look at writing similarly to the way I view running, one of my other pastimes. Entering a marathon or half-marathon or 10K - or somehow, miraculously, winning any of these races - is not the sole defining characteristic of being a runner. That reeks of elitism. A runner is a runner because of the simple, arduous task of hitting the pavement, counting the miles, weathering the aches, and doing it again the next day. It's a little hokey, I know, but I've discovered a positive outlook is essential in both running and writing.
Showing posts with label literature. Show all posts
Showing posts with label literature. Show all posts
Monday, March 30, 2009
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
Happenstance poetry, 1999 - 2007
A stanza I saw on a public bus in Portland, circa 2007:
` "Separation" by W.S. Merwin
Two stanzas I saw stenciled on a sidewalk in Missoula, circa 2004:
(and...)
` both from "(almost anything)" by Matthea Harvey
A stanza I saw typed on a picture in Pendleton, circa 1999:
` from "One" by Rod McKuen
Your absence has gone through me
Like thread through a needle.
Everything I do is stitched with its color.
` "Separation" by W.S. Merwin
Two stanzas I saw stenciled on a sidewalk in Missoula, circa 2004:
Dear dust-ghost, the instructions don’t make
sense unless I sing them.
(and...)
I push the rubble out of the second-storey window.
I put the money in an envelope & it’s sucked up
a transparent tube.
` both from "(almost anything)" by Matthea Harvey
A stanza I saw typed on a picture in Pendleton, circa 1999:
This is the way it was
while I was waiting for your eyes
to find me.
` from "One" by Rod McKuen
Monday, January 26, 2009
Another bit of Vonnegut
I don't mean to discuss him ad nauseam, but I rediscovered a great article on the A.V Club today that I thought worth sharing: "15 Things Kurt Vonnegut Said Better Than Anyone Else Ever Has Or Will". I think I enjoy lists like this because they acknowledge the splendid things I fail to mention or, at the very least, commit to memory. My favorite quotes appear below (with their respective novels):
"I urge you to please notice when you are happy, and exclaim or murmur or think at some point, 'If this isn't nice, I don't know what is.'"
`from A Man Without A Country. I talked about this sentiment in an earlier post but I figured I'd at least identify the novel - plus it's one of the few hopeful moments in Vonnegut's otherwise bitter swan song.
"There are plenty of good reasons for fighting, but no good reason ever to hate without reservation, to imagine that God Almighty Himself hates with you, too. Where’s evil? It’s that large part of every man that wants to hate without limit, that wants to hate with God on his side. It’s that part of every man that finds all kinds of ugliness so attractive...It’s that part of an imbecile...that punishes and vilifies and makes war gladly."
`from Mother Night. Possibly my second favorite novel of his, it has a wonderfully dark sense of humor and more than a few pearls of wisdom. Darker still, these judgments are most often presented by an exiled American accused of disseminating Nazi propaganda.
"Hello, babies. Welcome to Earth. It's hot in the summer and cold in the winter. It's round and wet and crowded. At the outside, babies, you've got about a hundred years here. There's only one rule that I know of, babies — God damn it, you've got to be kind."
`from God Bless You, Mr. Rosewater. Probably Vonnegut's shortest summation of his personal ethos, this quote comes from my all-time favorite KV novel. Though I don't consider myself a secular humanist, nor do I think this little book provides his best quotes, I dearly love the story. Eliot Rosewater is a character for the ages. He’s Christ-like, but much more human than Christ. A drunk with an intense interest in local fire-protection, a dreamer, a giver, a slob, and possibly a madman (at least, part of the time). Maybe Mr. Rosewater doesn’t reflect Jesus as much as he does John the Baptist – a recluse nearly alone in the wilderness, save for the hordes of pathetic, repenting souls who come to him for help and healing.
"I urge you to please notice when you are happy, and exclaim or murmur or think at some point, 'If this isn't nice, I don't know what is.'"
`from A Man Without A Country. I talked about this sentiment in an earlier post but I figured I'd at least identify the novel - plus it's one of the few hopeful moments in Vonnegut's otherwise bitter swan song.
"There are plenty of good reasons for fighting, but no good reason ever to hate without reservation, to imagine that God Almighty Himself hates with you, too. Where’s evil? It’s that large part of every man that wants to hate without limit, that wants to hate with God on his side. It’s that part of every man that finds all kinds of ugliness so attractive...It’s that part of an imbecile...that punishes and vilifies and makes war gladly."
`from Mother Night. Possibly my second favorite novel of his, it has a wonderfully dark sense of humor and more than a few pearls of wisdom. Darker still, these judgments are most often presented by an exiled American accused of disseminating Nazi propaganda.
"Hello, babies. Welcome to Earth. It's hot in the summer and cold in the winter. It's round and wet and crowded. At the outside, babies, you've got about a hundred years here. There's only one rule that I know of, babies — God damn it, you've got to be kind."
`from God Bless You, Mr. Rosewater. Probably Vonnegut's shortest summation of his personal ethos, this quote comes from my all-time favorite KV novel. Though I don't consider myself a secular humanist, nor do I think this little book provides his best quotes, I dearly love the story. Eliot Rosewater is a character for the ages. He’s Christ-like, but much more human than Christ. A drunk with an intense interest in local fire-protection, a dreamer, a giver, a slob, and possibly a madman (at least, part of the time). Maybe Mr. Rosewater doesn’t reflect Jesus as much as he does John the Baptist – a recluse nearly alone in the wilderness, save for the hordes of pathetic, repenting souls who come to him for help and healing.
Friday, January 16, 2009
So this is the new year...
A few things I am excited about in the new year ---
- The February 17th release of Dark Was the Night: The AIDS benefit album will feature a few funky collaborations (e.g. Feist + Ben Gibbard, Conor Oberst + Gillian Welch, etc.) and new songs by Sufjan Stevens, My Morning Jacket, Bon Iver, The Arcade Fire, Iron & Wine, Spoon, The Decemberists, and Beirut. In lieu of new albums by most of those artists, this is the next best thing. Get more info about the release here.
- A new presidency: I'm a moderate in most ways. (Actually, I recently decided that I'm a social libertarian and an economic socialist, if that's a possible marriage). And, unlike many others, I don't have a laundry list of grievances about the Bush administration. But the one thing I missed most throughout the eight years of this presidency was an adept public speaker. Bush just didn't have the skills. Obama does. I'm excited.
- Going back to school: I know, it's a bit egghead but the prospect of moving to a new place and earning a degree while doing something I actually enjoy sounds like gravy. I have nine graduate applications submitted to nine schools in eight different states - one less now, regards to Indiana - and I'll be getting my rejection/acceptance letters any day. (And in case I solely receive rejection letters from all nine schools, my "Plan B" is to locate a good Masters in Teaching program here in the Pacific Northwest).
- The re-release of Once a Runner: The rare, out-of-print John L. Parker novel is finally getting a second printing and is due out in April. (For those interested, see my January 2nd post about the book).
- Finally getting a cat: Some of you have been hearing Adie and I whine about wanting a cat since we both moved to Portland. Well we haven't visited the shelter yet and we may not be able to afford any of those fancy collars or scratching posts, but we do have a name picked out. So, Steve Knutson, wherever you are, I promise this is the year you come home.
- The February 17th release of Dark Was the Night: The AIDS benefit album will feature a few funky collaborations (e.g. Feist + Ben Gibbard, Conor Oberst + Gillian Welch, etc.) and new songs by Sufjan Stevens, My Morning Jacket, Bon Iver, The Arcade Fire, Iron & Wine, Spoon, The Decemberists, and Beirut. In lieu of new albums by most of those artists, this is the next best thing. Get more info about the release here.
- A new presidency: I'm a moderate in most ways. (Actually, I recently decided that I'm a social libertarian and an economic socialist, if that's a possible marriage). And, unlike many others, I don't have a laundry list of grievances about the Bush administration. But the one thing I missed most throughout the eight years of this presidency was an adept public speaker. Bush just didn't have the skills. Obama does. I'm excited.
- Going back to school: I know, it's a bit egghead but the prospect of moving to a new place and earning a degree while doing something I actually enjoy sounds like gravy. I have nine graduate applications submitted to nine schools in eight different states - one less now, regards to Indiana - and I'll be getting my rejection/acceptance letters any day. (And in case I solely receive rejection letters from all nine schools, my "Plan B" is to locate a good Masters in Teaching program here in the Pacific Northwest).
- The re-release of Once a Runner: The rare, out-of-print John L. Parker novel is finally getting a second printing and is due out in April. (For those interested, see my January 2nd post about the book).
- Finally getting a cat: Some of you have been hearing Adie and I whine about wanting a cat since we both moved to Portland. Well we haven't visited the shelter yet and we may not be able to afford any of those fancy collars or scratching posts, but we do have a name picked out. So, Steve Knutson, wherever you are, I promise this is the year you come home.
Saturday, January 10, 2009
"A perfect balance of Chesterton, Hitchens, and Shel Silverstein..."
A friend sent me a link to an article about author comparisons and how every emerging writer is forcefully pigeonholed into one of ten categories. Funny article, well worth the quick read. Obviously, it made me ponder that whole phenomenon - the basic human urge to categorize or quantify anything new. In the case of books, I often find myself attracted to something with an original plot, slick cover, or witty title. But then I wonder: "Will I even like this? Don't I have other books I still need to read? Is it worth the $12?" Maybe not, but interested folks are betting I'm more likely to buy it if it's compared to Augusten Burroughs or Amy Sedaris. (Which has certainly sold me a number of times).
Anyway, I'd like to write my own comparisons some day ---
"Reminiscent of an older John Kennedy Toole..."
"The funniest bits of James Watson, E.O. Wilson, and Howard Zinn, all rolled into one side-splitting story."
"As life affirming...and spiritually relevant as anything by Twain or Vonnegut."
"The next James Frey."
Anyway, I'd like to write my own comparisons some day ---
"Reminiscent of an older John Kennedy Toole..."
"The funniest bits of James Watson, E.O. Wilson, and Howard Zinn, all rolled into one side-splitting story."
"As life affirming...and spiritually relevant as anything by Twain or Vonnegut."
"The next James Frey."
Friday, January 2, 2009
Once a runner...
There's an article in Slate today about John L. Parker's previously out-of-print book on long distance running, Once A Runner. (After reading it, I am tempted to hunt for the novel - which is apparently a task in itself). Anyway, as a sometimes-long-distance-runner, I think the description of the book's eponymous subject is spot on ---
"Like many cults, distance running has its mysteries, and The Secret — how you become a real runner — is Once a Runner's chief concern...But it turns out that The Secret is that there is no secret. The runner must pound the mileage, as we say. It's a grueling, tedious, insane lifestyle. So why do we keep doing it? To understand the answer, you have to understand a bit about distance running. For one thing, it helps to know that only non-runners talk about a "runner's high." It's not that it doesn't exist, that weird feeling of euphoria you sometimes get briefly after a tough day at the track or a superlong run. But no one could possibly be a runner just for the highs, whether brought on by natural chemicals or by winning a race. The running life is mostly just lots and lots and lots of miles. Only a few competitions punctuate the grind of thankless workouts on anonymous tracks, and you literally need a very loud gun to snap you out of the training existence and tell you it's time to save nothing for later. There simply isn't enough in the way of traditional rewards as compared with hard labor to make it worthwhile—that is, if you're only after the traditional rewards."
"Like many cults, distance running has its mysteries, and The Secret — how you become a real runner — is Once a Runner's chief concern...But it turns out that The Secret is that there is no secret. The runner must pound the mileage, as we say. It's a grueling, tedious, insane lifestyle. So why do we keep doing it? To understand the answer, you have to understand a bit about distance running. For one thing, it helps to know that only non-runners talk about a "runner's high." It's not that it doesn't exist, that weird feeling of euphoria you sometimes get briefly after a tough day at the track or a superlong run. But no one could possibly be a runner just for the highs, whether brought on by natural chemicals or by winning a race. The running life is mostly just lots and lots and lots of miles. Only a few competitions punctuate the grind of thankless workouts on anonymous tracks, and you literally need a very loud gun to snap you out of the training existence and tell you it's time to save nothing for later. There simply isn't enough in the way of traditional rewards as compared with hard labor to make it worthwhile—that is, if you're only after the traditional rewards."
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Current distractions
I'm in the midst of finishing a few books, which is a fairly regular place for me to be ---
"Player Piano" by Kurt Vonnegut - One of my favorite writers, this book hasn't quite taken flight as quickly as some of his other works. But it still contains the same cynical, maniacal fantasies that he is best at creating. I sympathize with his skepticism of organized anything and his faith in the goodness of solitary man. (It's also difficult to dislike a guy who gave some of his own books "C-" ratings).
"The Catcher In the Rye" by J.D. Salinger - I reread this book every year or two. On this occasion, it hasn't read as smoothly as years before. Talking to a coworker of mine, I realized that maybe Salinger is a better short story writer (i.e. taken in small doses) than author of novels. This is not a knock on his talent - masters like Cheever and Chekhov are best known for their shorter works - but more a realization after a long love affair.
"From Hell" by Alan Moore - A Christmas gift from my younger sister, I always felt reluctant to gift this book myself. Jack the Ripper is a gory topic, but it's surprisingly deep in its subject matter. Moore explores the history of architecture - the movements, idols, and misogyny that once drove it - and the way it has shaped various cultures. It's as if we have no choice but to be influenced by the men and women who came before us. Heavy stuff.
"Player Piano" by Kurt Vonnegut - One of my favorite writers, this book hasn't quite taken flight as quickly as some of his other works. But it still contains the same cynical, maniacal fantasies that he is best at creating. I sympathize with his skepticism of organized anything and his faith in the goodness of solitary man. (It's also difficult to dislike a guy who gave some of his own books "C-" ratings).
"The Catcher In the Rye" by J.D. Salinger - I reread this book every year or two. On this occasion, it hasn't read as smoothly as years before. Talking to a coworker of mine, I realized that maybe Salinger is a better short story writer (i.e. taken in small doses) than author of novels. This is not a knock on his talent - masters like Cheever and Chekhov are best known for their shorter works - but more a realization after a long love affair.
"From Hell" by Alan Moore - A Christmas gift from my younger sister, I always felt reluctant to gift this book myself. Jack the Ripper is a gory topic, but it's surprisingly deep in its subject matter. Moore explores the history of architecture - the movements, idols, and misogyny that once drove it - and the way it has shaped various cultures. It's as if we have no choice but to be influenced by the men and women who came before us. Heavy stuff.
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