It’s one of the trickiest questions writers have to face: When is it done? (This is also a tricky question with regard to Thanksgiving turkeys, but I digress…) Here, my dear friend and former writing group member Katharine (Kitty) Davis wrestles with the ramifications of saying "the end."
(Also check out her previous posts for this blog, “Betwixt and Between,” about filling time between projects; and this New Yorker-style “Letter from Maine.” And here’s her yummy recipe for fish chowder, inspired by her second novel, East Hope…perfect for these dark winter evenings.)
Letting Go of Your Novel
Katharine Davis
Writing a novel is a long journey. From the simple physical endurance of turning out all those pages to the emotional ups and downs of the creative act—it’s an enormous endeavor, consuming one’s life for years at a time.
Writers often talk about the difficulty of getting started. How do you find the voice, where to begin, which point of view, the time frame, the setting? There are thousands of questions to consider, big and small.
Then, there is the problem of sticking to it, finding the time to write, getting blocked. Oh, the agony of finally understanding a character in the thirteenth chapter and having to re-write the previous 200 pages. How painful it is to discover you’ve gone off on a tangent, another 60 pages. You love every word, but you have to take them all out.
Eventually, you do the tedious revisions. Sentence by sentence, word by word, the work of getting the prose just right. Some days it’s nothing but a pleasure to revise, working on the rhythm, having the perfect metaphor seem to land in your lap. You might experience the thrill of coming up with that one word that changes everything. But, the countless hours spent on dialogue that clunks along like the rattle in your car that the mechanic can’t fix, or the flashback that’s brought your narrative drive to a halt--these trials are part of the process too.
Yet to me, one of the hardest parts of writing a novel is letting it go. You type ‘the end’ in all caps. You send it out. You want to celebrate, drink champagne, eat an enormous chocolate cupcake and tell all your friends, “I did it. I’m done. It’s the best ever. Yay!” And then, wham. What have I written? I didn’t get deeply enough into that character’s head. Did I tell enough about the mother? Oh God. That part’s too sappy. I should have made it better. These thoughts come at 3 AM, thanks to the champagne, the cupcake, or both. At that moment, the initial thrill of finding the story, and the enthusiasm of bringing it to the page is like some prehistoric event.
The next day, I feel somewhat better. There’s that scene where . . . and, remember when . . . , and the ending that can still make me cry. I find a paragraph I truly love. When did I write that? The next few weeks bring a combination of highs and lows.
Letting go of a novel is like sending children off to college. They’ve spent the last few years of high school driving you crazy, but also bringing you joy and delight. You experience the relief of getting them out from under your roof, to deep sadness. You miss them. You want your child to have his own life, to succeed. But it’s no longer up to you. Your baby if gone. Still, you’ve created something with love and hard work. Hopefully, the sense of pride and satisfaction will be long lasting.
This morning I pressed “send” and heard that final electronic click. I sent my novel, A SLENDER THREAD to my editor. The champagne is in the fridge. I plan to go to Magnolia Bakery this afternoon. Best cupcakes in New York.
About: Katharine Davis began writing fiction in 1999. Capturing Paris (St. Martin’s Press, 2006) was her first novel. Recommended in Real Simple Spring Travel 2007, the novel was also included in the New York Times' suggestions for fiction set in Paris. Her second novel, East Hope, was published by New American Library in 2009. She is an Associate Editor at The Potomac Review. She can be reached at www.katharinedavis.com. (Be sure to check out her fabulous Maine and Paris travel tips!)
Work-in-Progress
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Fitzgerald in Hollywood
It wasn’t until I opened my November 16, 2009, issue of The New Yorker on the plane to Austin that I saw this article about F. Scott Fitzgerald and his struggles in Hollywood. It was an excellent piece—written by Arthur Krystal, who’s working on a book on the topic—and it’s well worth searching out a print copy of the magazine. (The web site offers only an abstract.)
Krystal had access to Fitzgerald’s papers from a forgotten corner of the M-G-M archives, and it seems that our friend Scott really, really, REALLY wanted to come up with a great movie. And so why didn’t he succeed? Not hard to figure out, acutally, based on Krystal's research.
Krystal writes that while examining the papers,
“…I discovered just how hard he had worked at his craft. Fitzgerald approached each assignment with an intensity that must have puzzled his superiors. Given a script to revise, he would break it down, backstory it, advise the producers of its potential, and then start to add layers. ‘A Yank at Oxford’ couldn’t be just an innocent romance’ it had to prove the connection between language and mores. ‘Madame Curie’ couldn’t be just the story of a woman overcoming the odds; it had to reveal the intricacies of a marriage between equals. Naturally, he became emotionally invested in the work, making it difficult to cede control, and, like the British colonel in ‘The Bridge on the River Kwai,’ he forgot that what he was building didn’t belong to him, and, consequently, felt dismayed at its destruction.”
Here’s a brief bit from one of Fitztgerald's screenplays, “Cosmopolitan,” based on his short story “Babylon Revisited”:
Krystal notes: “Now follows a much longer, prosy summation of Marion Petrie’s character and attitudes, all of which could be expressed in a few lines of dialogue instead of lengthy paragraphs:
“[Fitzgerald wrote:] His wife Marion…is an extremely pretty American woman of thirty-two who must have hoped for a better match. She is now in a state of great emotion—barely controlled. She is agitated almost to the breaking point by the news of her sister’s suicide, which reached her last night in Paris. Always before this she has felt a certain secret jealously of her sister, who has great wealth and luxury.”
Sounds like a pureborn novelist to me.
Krystal had access to Fitzgerald’s papers from a forgotten corner of the M-G-M archives, and it seems that our friend Scott really, really, REALLY wanted to come up with a great movie. And so why didn’t he succeed? Not hard to figure out, acutally, based on Krystal's research.
Krystal writes that while examining the papers,
“…I discovered just how hard he had worked at his craft. Fitzgerald approached each assignment with an intensity that must have puzzled his superiors. Given a script to revise, he would break it down, backstory it, advise the producers of its potential, and then start to add layers. ‘A Yank at Oxford’ couldn’t be just an innocent romance’ it had to prove the connection between language and mores. ‘Madame Curie’ couldn’t be just the story of a woman overcoming the odds; it had to reveal the intricacies of a marriage between equals. Naturally, he became emotionally invested in the work, making it difficult to cede control, and, like the British colonel in ‘The Bridge on the River Kwai,’ he forgot that what he was building didn’t belong to him, and, consequently, felt dismayed at its destruction.”
Here’s a brief bit from one of Fitztgerald's screenplays, “Cosmopolitan,” based on his short story “Babylon Revisited”:
Krystal notes: “Now follows a much longer, prosy summation of Marion Petrie’s character and attitudes, all of which could be expressed in a few lines of dialogue instead of lengthy paragraphs:
“[Fitzgerald wrote:] His wife Marion…is an extremely pretty American woman of thirty-two who must have hoped for a better match. She is now in a state of great emotion—barely controlled. She is agitated almost to the breaking point by the news of her sister’s suicide, which reached her last night in Paris. Always before this she has felt a certain secret jealously of her sister, who has great wealth and luxury.”
Sounds like a pureborn novelist to me.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Austin Wrap-Up
We spent the weekend in Austin, Texas, and despite being tied down by business functions, were able to get in some good eating (shock):
--We had a wonderful lunch at Manuel’s, upscale Mexican food, with very refreshing (and potent) margaritas…nice tequila list. I had the chile relleno en nogada, a chile stuffed with pork, almonds and raisins with a walnut-brandy sauce, and Steve had the mole enchilada. We were totally stuffed after that, but bravely headed to the business event that night, dinner at:
--Threadgill’s, the music venue where Janis Joplin got her start (Austin bills itself as the live music capital of the world). We had chicken fried chicken breast (which is different than fried chicken!), and two sides: garlic cheese grits, and I went for the “light” fried okra, while Steve headed for “San Antonio squash.” I don’t know the exact recipe, but I’m pretty sure it involves a few slices of summer squash, corn, canned chiles, and lots of Velveeta. Who couldn’t like vegetables with all that camouflage? My peach cobbler was good, but Steve’s pecan pie was AMAZING.
--Fonda San Miguel had been recommended by us with such enthusiasm (thanks, LLD!) that we had to hop in a cab and try a late Sunday brunch. I’m not much of a brunch person, due to the tendency to eat like a pig with all that food spread out, but this was our only chance to get here, and it was nice to try so many wonderful Mexican dishes, including a deep-dark mole, and a spicy chicken with crema sauce. It was fun to try cactus salad, and there was a corn dish, sort of like a spoon bread that was so sweet and yummy that I added a second helping of it to my dessert plate. Steve was all over the tres leches cake. We waddled out of there and collapsed for a good long while.
--Later that night, we had the chance to sit in the beautiful western bar of the historic Driskill Hotel, built in 1886 by a cattle baron. I love historic hotels, and this is one of the most stunning ones I’ve ever been in. (You can find some great photos here.)
--We stumbled onto FRANK after we had already eaten lunch. But FRANK, with its hipster vibe and promise of housemade sausages and hot dogs lured us in, and we were not disappointed. In fact, we were in awe! We only had half an hour or so before having to leave for the airport, so we promised ourselves that we would share a quick dog and get out. Oh, haha. Our second “light” lunch began with a Manhattan made with bacon-infused Maker’s Mark, a drink called “redheaded stranger” that was a bloody Mary made with bacon-infused vodka garnished with a pepperocini, a jalapeno stuffed olive, a chunk of cheddar, and a strip of bacon (!!), and a half black pepper, half celery salt crusted rim (in a nod to common sense, I got the small version). Steve had the jalapeno cheese dog, which featured a homemade dog with flecks of jalapeno inside the meat (as well as scattered liberally on top) and I had one of the day’s specials: chicken fried hot dog. I defy anyone to pass this up; even one of the vegetarian servers claimed that this dish is what makes him think about going back to meat. It was AWESOME! An incredible, clean and natural-tasting hot dog deep fried in a very light batter, covered with cream gravy. Mmmmm…. It was beyond my expectations. (Oh, and I’m not crazy—I kept things light by not eating the bun.) We bought our bacon-chocolate chip cookies to go. If you’re anywhere remotely close to Texas, it’s so worth your while to make a beeline to this heavenly place.
--There was more than food, and some of the non-food highlights included the “spouse trolley tour”(hi, Jenny!) that showed me parts of Austin beyond the downtown area, including some mansions from old-time Austin, a too-quick visit to the Lyndon Johnson presidential library (he had huge, goofy ears as a baby!), and a good view of the GIGANTIC Jumbotron at the UT football stadium. And Steve and I found a fun, artsy music store called Wild About Music where we bought some Austin CDs. And if either Western Ghost House or The Sideshow Tragedy ever collect a Grammy…well, we saw them play live in Austin at The Ghost Room!
--We had a wonderful lunch at Manuel’s, upscale Mexican food, with very refreshing (and potent) margaritas…nice tequila list. I had the chile relleno en nogada, a chile stuffed with pork, almonds and raisins with a walnut-brandy sauce, and Steve had the mole enchilada. We were totally stuffed after that, but bravely headed to the business event that night, dinner at:
--Threadgill’s, the music venue where Janis Joplin got her start (Austin bills itself as the live music capital of the world). We had chicken fried chicken breast (which is different than fried chicken!), and two sides: garlic cheese grits, and I went for the “light” fried okra, while Steve headed for “San Antonio squash.” I don’t know the exact recipe, but I’m pretty sure it involves a few slices of summer squash, corn, canned chiles, and lots of Velveeta. Who couldn’t like vegetables with all that camouflage? My peach cobbler was good, but Steve’s pecan pie was AMAZING.
--Fonda San Miguel had been recommended by us with such enthusiasm (thanks, LLD!) that we had to hop in a cab and try a late Sunday brunch. I’m not much of a brunch person, due to the tendency to eat like a pig with all that food spread out, but this was our only chance to get here, and it was nice to try so many wonderful Mexican dishes, including a deep-dark mole, and a spicy chicken with crema sauce. It was fun to try cactus salad, and there was a corn dish, sort of like a spoon bread that was so sweet and yummy that I added a second helping of it to my dessert plate. Steve was all over the tres leches cake. We waddled out of there and collapsed for a good long while.
--Later that night, we had the chance to sit in the beautiful western bar of the historic Driskill Hotel, built in 1886 by a cattle baron. I love historic hotels, and this is one of the most stunning ones I’ve ever been in. (You can find some great photos here.)
--We stumbled onto FRANK after we had already eaten lunch. But FRANK, with its hipster vibe and promise of housemade sausages and hot dogs lured us in, and we were not disappointed. In fact, we were in awe! We only had half an hour or so before having to leave for the airport, so we promised ourselves that we would share a quick dog and get out. Oh, haha. Our second “light” lunch began with a Manhattan made with bacon-infused Maker’s Mark, a drink called “redheaded stranger” that was a bloody Mary made with bacon-infused vodka garnished with a pepperocini, a jalapeno stuffed olive, a chunk of cheddar, and a strip of bacon (!!), and a half black pepper, half celery salt crusted rim (in a nod to common sense, I got the small version). Steve had the jalapeno cheese dog, which featured a homemade dog with flecks of jalapeno inside the meat (as well as scattered liberally on top) and I had one of the day’s specials: chicken fried hot dog. I defy anyone to pass this up; even one of the vegetarian servers claimed that this dish is what makes him think about going back to meat. It was AWESOME! An incredible, clean and natural-tasting hot dog deep fried in a very light batter, covered with cream gravy. Mmmmm…. It was beyond my expectations. (Oh, and I’m not crazy—I kept things light by not eating the bun.) We bought our bacon-chocolate chip cookies to go. If you’re anywhere remotely close to Texas, it’s so worth your while to make a beeline to this heavenly place.
--There was more than food, and some of the non-food highlights included the “spouse trolley tour”(hi, Jenny!) that showed me parts of Austin beyond the downtown area, including some mansions from old-time Austin, a too-quick visit to the Lyndon Johnson presidential library (he had huge, goofy ears as a baby!), and a good view of the GIGANTIC Jumbotron at the UT football stadium. And Steve and I found a fun, artsy music store called Wild About Music where we bought some Austin CDs. And if either Western Ghost House or The Sideshow Tragedy ever collect a Grammy…well, we saw them play live in Austin at The Ghost Room!
Monday, November 16, 2009
Someone Else's Titling Woes
This interview with Michelle Huneven, author of a new novel called Blame, is interesting (and the book sounds great!), but I was particularly intrigued by this (sadly familiar) tale of titling woes:
OLIVAS: Choosing a title for a novel can be both exhilarating and exasperating. The one word title of your novel is unflinching, almost accusatory. How did you decide upon it? Can you share with us some titles that didn’t make it?
HUNEVEN: This was the hardest title to find!
I started writing the book thinking that one of the key characters would have a part time job giving scrapbooking workshops and selling scrapbooking supplies—such people are sometimes called “memory consultants.” So the original title was, The Memory Consultant. But then the character never became a scrapbooker, and I didn’t have a title.
When I finished the draft I sent to my agent, I had the most spineless title—After All, I think. I don’t really remember. I knew it was terrible, but wanted something on the title page. My agent, who has since retired, suggested Patsy’s Fault, which had resonance, but I found a little too jaunty for the book. A close friend, also a novelist, suggested Blame, and that’s how the book went out to publishers. After she bought the book, my editor Sarah Crichton wanted a title that was a little less thematically pointed. We looked long and hard for something else. I had all my friends helping, or trying to. For All She Knew was one contender, but I could never remember it, and if I couldn’t remember the title of my own book, how would other people recall it long enough to get to the bookstore? Another contender was Patsy MacLemoore, but to me it was a little too Olive Kitteridge-ish—same syllabic count. Blame was memorable. It may not be the very best title for this book, but after months of searching (and I paged through the Bible, most of Shakespeare, not to mention Yeats, Stevens, Bishop, and Rumi...) and boring my friends to death, I came up empty handed. By then, my editor had decided that Blame was the best and only title for the book.
Read on here.
OLIVAS: Choosing a title for a novel can be both exhilarating and exasperating. The one word title of your novel is unflinching, almost accusatory. How did you decide upon it? Can you share with us some titles that didn’t make it?
HUNEVEN: This was the hardest title to find!
I started writing the book thinking that one of the key characters would have a part time job giving scrapbooking workshops and selling scrapbooking supplies—such people are sometimes called “memory consultants.” So the original title was, The Memory Consultant. But then the character never became a scrapbooker, and I didn’t have a title.
When I finished the draft I sent to my agent, I had the most spineless title—After All, I think. I don’t really remember. I knew it was terrible, but wanted something on the title page. My agent, who has since retired, suggested Patsy’s Fault, which had resonance, but I found a little too jaunty for the book. A close friend, also a novelist, suggested Blame, and that’s how the book went out to publishers. After she bought the book, my editor Sarah Crichton wanted a title that was a little less thematically pointed. We looked long and hard for something else. I had all my friends helping, or trying to. For All She Knew was one contender, but I could never remember it, and if I couldn’t remember the title of my own book, how would other people recall it long enough to get to the bookstore? Another contender was Patsy MacLemoore, but to me it was a little too Olive Kitteridge-ish—same syllabic count. Blame was memorable. It may not be the very best title for this book, but after months of searching (and I paged through the Bible, most of Shakespeare, not to mention Yeats, Stevens, Bishop, and Rumi...) and boring my friends to death, I came up empty handed. By then, my editor had decided that Blame was the best and only title for the book.
Read on here.
Split This Rock Poetry Contest
I just got the info on this year's Split This Rock poetry contest:
$1,000 awarded for poems of provocation & witness
Chris Abani, Judge
Benefits Split This Rock Poetry Festival - Washington, DC, March 10-13, 2010
Prizes: First place $500; 2nd and 3rd place, $250 each. Winners will receive free festival registration, and the 1st-place winner will be invited to read the winning poem at Split This Rock Poetry Festival, 2010. Winning poems will be published on www.SplitThisRock.org
Deadline: January 4, 2010 (postmark)
Reading Fee: $25, which supports Split This Rock Poetry Festival
Details: Submissions should be in the spirit of Split This Rock: socially engaged poems, poems that reach beyond the self to connect with the larger community or world; poems of provocation and witness. This theme can be interpreted broadly and may include but is not limited to work addressing politics, economics, government, war, leadership; issues of identity (gender, sexuality, race, ethnicity, disability, body image, immigration, heritage, etc.); community, civic engagement, education, activism; and poems about history, Americana, cultural icons.
Split This Rock subscribes to the Council of Literary Magazines and Presses Contest Code of Ethics.
Submission Guidelines: Send up to 3 unpublished poems, no more than 6 pages total, in any style, in the spirit of Split This Rock (see above).
Postmark deadline: January 4, 2010
Include one cover page containing your name, address, phone number, email, and the titles of your poems. This is the only part of the submission that should contain your name.
Enclose a check or money order for $25 (made out to "Split This Rock") to:
Split This Rock Poetry Contest
1112 16th Street NW, Suite 600
Washington, DC 20036
Simultaneous submissions OK, but please notify us immediately if the poem is accepted elsewhere. For more information, info@splitthisrock.org
2010 Poetry Contest Judge
Chris Abani will be featured at Split This Rock Poetry Festival 2010. His poetry collections are Hands Washing Water (Copper Canyon, 2006), Dog Woman (Red Hen, 2004), Daphne's Lot (Red Hen, 2003), and Kalakuta Republic (Saqi, 2001). His prose includes Song For Night (Akashic, 2007), The Virgin of Flames (Penguin, 2007), and Becoming Abigail (Akashic, 2006). He is a professor at the University of California-Riverside and the recipient of many awards, including the PEN USA Freedom-to-Write Award, a Lannan Literary Fellowship, a Hurston/Wright Legacy Award, a PEN Beyond the Margins Award, and a Guggenheim Award. www.chrisabani.com
$1,000 awarded for poems of provocation & witness
Chris Abani, Judge
Benefits Split This Rock Poetry Festival - Washington, DC, March 10-13, 2010
Prizes: First place $500; 2nd and 3rd place, $250 each. Winners will receive free festival registration, and the 1st-place winner will be invited to read the winning poem at Split This Rock Poetry Festival, 2010. Winning poems will be published on www.SplitThisRock.org
Deadline: January 4, 2010 (postmark)
Reading Fee: $25, which supports Split This Rock Poetry Festival
Details: Submissions should be in the spirit of Split This Rock: socially engaged poems, poems that reach beyond the self to connect with the larger community or world; poems of provocation and witness. This theme can be interpreted broadly and may include but is not limited to work addressing politics, economics, government, war, leadership; issues of identity (gender, sexuality, race, ethnicity, disability, body image, immigration, heritage, etc.); community, civic engagement, education, activism; and poems about history, Americana, cultural icons.
Split This Rock subscribes to the Council of Literary Magazines and Presses Contest Code of Ethics.
Submission Guidelines: Send up to 3 unpublished poems, no more than 6 pages total, in any style, in the spirit of Split This Rock (see above).
Postmark deadline: January 4, 2010
Include one cover page containing your name, address, phone number, email, and the titles of your poems. This is the only part of the submission that should contain your name.
Enclose a check or money order for $25 (made out to "Split This Rock") to:
Split This Rock Poetry Contest
1112 16th Street NW, Suite 600
Washington, DC 20036
Simultaneous submissions OK, but please notify us immediately if the poem is accepted elsewhere. For more information, info@splitthisrock.org
2010 Poetry Contest Judge
Chris Abani will be featured at Split This Rock Poetry Festival 2010. His poetry collections are Hands Washing Water (Copper Canyon, 2006), Dog Woman (Red Hen, 2004), Daphne's Lot (Red Hen, 2003), and Kalakuta Republic (Saqi, 2001). His prose includes Song For Night (Akashic, 2007), The Virgin of Flames (Penguin, 2007), and Becoming Abigail (Akashic, 2006). He is a professor at the University of California-Riverside and the recipient of many awards, including the PEN USA Freedom-to-Write Award, a Lannan Literary Fellowship, a Hurston/Wright Legacy Award, a PEN Beyond the Margins Award, and a Guggenheim Award. www.chrisabani.com
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Guest in Progress: Susan Tekulve
I have been begging Susan Tekulve for years to write something for this blog, and I’m thrilled to report that my nagging has finally paid off. Susan is a wonderful writer (see below for information about her exciting new collection of stories, Savage Pilgrims), a dedicated and superb teacher (at Converse College and in the Converse College Low-Residency MFA program), and a dear friend. You may recall the fried pimento cheese sandwich in Spartanburg…she was right there with me! And the day of beauty at the Estee Lauder counter…totally her idea!
I would need 1000 dictionaries to find enough nice words to say about her and about her work, so I'll just have to randomly pick one: fabulous! I am truly excited to be able to share with you one of her favorite writing exercises, and I’m looking forward to trying it myself:
At Home In the World: Using Travel to Produce Autobiographical Writing
By Susan Tekulve
In her autobiography, One Writer’s Beginnings, Eudora Welty states, “Writers and travelers are mesmerized alike by knowing of their destinations.” She argues that like travelers, writers are preoccupied with discovering sequence in experience, of stumbling upon cause and effect in the happenings of a writer’s own life as well as in the lives of others. The following writing exercise relies on the principle that most people carry their earliest, most sacred memories of home with them into adulthood. These memories are often hidden in the past, but the experience of travel to a new place sometimes will trigger a familiar emotion and unlock these early, forgotten experiences. The travel experience also allows you to gain the distance and perspective on your early memories of home that is needed to create structured memoirs and literary travel essays. I use this writing exercise in my creative nonfiction travel/study courses, but I swear by using this approach while I am traveling and writing about my travels both in the States and abroad.
1) Preparation: Before beginning this exercise, read memoirist Patricia Hampl’s essay, “Umbrian Spring.” In this essay, Hampl combines her memories of the Catholic convent school she attended as a girl with her travels to the convents and monasteries “offering hospitality” in the little hill towns of Umbria. You can see how Hampl’s journey through the Italian monasteries allows her to gain perspective on her childhood memory of the convent school and to contemplate the meaning of hospitality, one of the oldest missions of monastic life.
2) Draw a map of your earliest remembered neighborhood and include as much detail as you can. Who lived there? What were the secret places? Where did your friends live? Where were the off-limit places? Once you’ve made your map, it’s time to write. Tell a story from one of the places you have drawn on your map. Do not edit yourself yet. Keep writing until you’ve finished the story.
3) Go for a walk around the foreign city that you are visiting. Choose a building, fountain, door, sculpture or any other feature that you have seen in your wandering that speaks to you. Give it a name that has meaning for you. Draw or sketch your own map, (primitive, rudimentary or detailed), of the route that has led you to this spot. If on that route there are other significant spots, mark them too and give them a name. Retrace your steps to your destination. Sit down, study the map of the place you have named and free write for ten minutes, focusing on sensations, objects, in random order, of your tour. What is it about this place speaks to you or seems familiar? How did it make you feel? Why did it make you feel this way?
4) Compare the map from your journey with the map from your earliest memory. What do these two maps have in common? How has the journey experience helped you to understand your early, childhood memory? What questions, if any, has the travel experience answered for you. Using Hampl’s essay as a model, write a personal experience essay in which you connect the story from your childhood with the story from your journey.
Additional notes on using this exercise in a class:
When I use this exercise with students, I am usually teaching abroad in a workshop situation or in a travel study program, though I think this exercise can be adapted easily to a city in the States or to your own personal travels. First, I have the students read the Hampl essay before coming to our class session so that we can discuss its meaning and structure together. Then, I have them draw the childhood map and free write about one of their childhood experiences while we are all together in class. After the students have completed their maps and "memory" free writing, I send them off to explore the town or city that we are in, giving the students a set time frame, (about one hour), to find their "travel destination" and draw their second maps. This gives the students enough time to find a place and record their impressions; however, it also ensures that they don't wander off too far or get lost. Finally, because students need time to ponder, I suggest that they write the actual draft of their essay when they are back in their living quarters, possibly revisiting their chosen "travel site" on their own.
About: Susan Tekulve is the author of two story collections, My Mother’s War Stories (Winnow Press) and Savage Pilgrims (Serving House Books; available for purchase here: http://www.servinghousebooks.com/). Her chapbook, Wash Day, is forthcoming on the Webdelsol "World Voices Series." Her nonfiction, stories and poems have appeared in Shenandoah, The Georgia Review, New Letters, Best New Writing 2007, The Indiana Review, Denver Quarterly, Puerto del Sol, Prairie Schooner, Beloit Fiction Journal, Crab Orchard Review, The Literary Review, Webdelsol, Black Warrior Review and The Kansas City Star. She has been awarded scholarships from the Bread Loaf Writers Conference and the Sewanee Writers Conference. An associate professor of English at Converse College in South Carolina, she is completing a novel.
You can read more of her work here:
~“Second Shift” (essay) from Writers on the Job, www.writersonthejob.webdelsol.com/shift.html
~“A Dance of Words: A Conversation with Beth Kephart” (writer interview),
Webdelsol, www.webdelsol.com/Del_Sol_Review/epicks6/tekulve.htm
~“The Way of Stories: An Interview With Jean Thompson (writer interview), Webdelsol, www.webdelsol.com/Del_Sol_Review/epicks5/tekulve.htm
~“Real cities With Imaginary Prose About Them; An Inerview with Thomas E. Kennedy” (writer interview), from The Literary Review, www.findarticles.com/p/articles/mi_m2078/is_4_42/ai_56184314/
I would need 1000 dictionaries to find enough nice words to say about her and about her work, so I'll just have to randomly pick one: fabulous! I am truly excited to be able to share with you one of her favorite writing exercises, and I’m looking forward to trying it myself:
At Home In the World: Using Travel to Produce Autobiographical Writing
By Susan Tekulve
In her autobiography, One Writer’s Beginnings, Eudora Welty states, “Writers and travelers are mesmerized alike by knowing of their destinations.” She argues that like travelers, writers are preoccupied with discovering sequence in experience, of stumbling upon cause and effect in the happenings of a writer’s own life as well as in the lives of others. The following writing exercise relies on the principle that most people carry their earliest, most sacred memories of home with them into adulthood. These memories are often hidden in the past, but the experience of travel to a new place sometimes will trigger a familiar emotion and unlock these early, forgotten experiences. The travel experience also allows you to gain the distance and perspective on your early memories of home that is needed to create structured memoirs and literary travel essays. I use this writing exercise in my creative nonfiction travel/study courses, but I swear by using this approach while I am traveling and writing about my travels both in the States and abroad.
1) Preparation: Before beginning this exercise, read memoirist Patricia Hampl’s essay, “Umbrian Spring.” In this essay, Hampl combines her memories of the Catholic convent school she attended as a girl with her travels to the convents and monasteries “offering hospitality” in the little hill towns of Umbria. You can see how Hampl’s journey through the Italian monasteries allows her to gain perspective on her childhood memory of the convent school and to contemplate the meaning of hospitality, one of the oldest missions of monastic life.
2) Draw a map of your earliest remembered neighborhood and include as much detail as you can. Who lived there? What were the secret places? Where did your friends live? Where were the off-limit places? Once you’ve made your map, it’s time to write. Tell a story from one of the places you have drawn on your map. Do not edit yourself yet. Keep writing until you’ve finished the story.
3) Go for a walk around the foreign city that you are visiting. Choose a building, fountain, door, sculpture or any other feature that you have seen in your wandering that speaks to you. Give it a name that has meaning for you. Draw or sketch your own map, (primitive, rudimentary or detailed), of the route that has led you to this spot. If on that route there are other significant spots, mark them too and give them a name. Retrace your steps to your destination. Sit down, study the map of the place you have named and free write for ten minutes, focusing on sensations, objects, in random order, of your tour. What is it about this place speaks to you or seems familiar? How did it make you feel? Why did it make you feel this way?
4) Compare the map from your journey with the map from your earliest memory. What do these two maps have in common? How has the journey experience helped you to understand your early, childhood memory? What questions, if any, has the travel experience answered for you. Using Hampl’s essay as a model, write a personal experience essay in which you connect the story from your childhood with the story from your journey.
Additional notes on using this exercise in a class:
When I use this exercise with students, I am usually teaching abroad in a workshop situation or in a travel study program, though I think this exercise can be adapted easily to a city in the States or to your own personal travels. First, I have the students read the Hampl essay before coming to our class session so that we can discuss its meaning and structure together. Then, I have them draw the childhood map and free write about one of their childhood experiences while we are all together in class. After the students have completed their maps and "memory" free writing, I send them off to explore the town or city that we are in, giving the students a set time frame, (about one hour), to find their "travel destination" and draw their second maps. This gives the students enough time to find a place and record their impressions; however, it also ensures that they don't wander off too far or get lost. Finally, because students need time to ponder, I suggest that they write the actual draft of their essay when they are back in their living quarters, possibly revisiting their chosen "travel site" on their own.
About: Susan Tekulve is the author of two story collections, My Mother’s War Stories (Winnow Press) and Savage Pilgrims (Serving House Books; available for purchase here: http://www.servinghousebooks.com/). Her chapbook, Wash Day, is forthcoming on the Webdelsol "World Voices Series." Her nonfiction, stories and poems have appeared in Shenandoah, The Georgia Review, New Letters, Best New Writing 2007, The Indiana Review, Denver Quarterly, Puerto del Sol, Prairie Schooner, Beloit Fiction Journal, Crab Orchard Review, The Literary Review, Webdelsol, Black Warrior Review and The Kansas City Star. She has been awarded scholarships from the Bread Loaf Writers Conference and the Sewanee Writers Conference. An associate professor of English at Converse College in South Carolina, she is completing a novel.
You can read more of her work here:
~“Second Shift” (essay) from Writers on the Job, www.writersonthejob.webdelsol.com/shift.html
~“A Dance of Words: A Conversation with Beth Kephart” (writer interview),
Webdelsol, www.webdelsol.com/Del_Sol_Review/epicks6/tekulve.htm
~“The Way of Stories: An Interview With Jean Thompson (writer interview), Webdelsol, www.webdelsol.com/Del_Sol_Review/epicks5/tekulve.htm
~“Real cities With Imaginary Prose About Them; An Inerview with Thomas E. Kennedy” (writer interview), from The Literary Review, www.findarticles.com/p/articles/mi_m2078/is_4_42/ai_56184314/
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Best American Short Stories 2009
Lately, I’ve been dipping in and out of the new edition of The Best American Short Stories, edited by Alice Sebold, and I’ve found some excellent stories by some unfamiliar writers. (In fact, that’s the reason I faithfully buy this book year after year, looking for writers—and journals—I haven’t read much or ever.)
I didn’t discover any new journals, but I did find some great new (to me) writers and stories. Here are some of my favorites:
“Into the Gorge” by Ron Rash, set in the mountainous South, is a tight and tragic story about the loss of land and a way of life, all the more chilling because we know the inevitable outcome.
First paragraph:
“His great-aunt had been born on this land, lived on it eight decades and knew it as well as she knew her husband and children. That was what she’d always claimed, and could tell you to the week when the first dogwood blossom would brighten the ridge, the first blackberry darken and swell enough to harvest. Then her mind had wandered into a place she could not follow, taking with it all the people she knew, their names and connections, whether they still lived or whether they’d died. But her body lingered, shed of an inner being, empty as a cicada husk.”
The author notes that the story “came to me first as an image. A man was running from something. He was too old to be running, yet he was running nevertheless.”
“Rubiaux Rising” by Steve de Jarnatt, is set during Hurricane Katrina, about a war veteran whose aunt has locked him up in the attic as a homestyle method of drug withdrawal. The aunt has gone to town before the storm saying she’d be back…but hasn’t returned.
From the beginning:
“This early morning, as Rubiaux rouses, it is long-dead quiet. Like wads of chawed paper stuck flush back up against eardrums. Just blood rushing nothing in his head. Then blood rushing nothing in his head. Then blood simmers down, and he can hear gulls squawking on the wind somewhere. He sees gray light squeezing through rippage in the curling tarpaper lining the inside of this well-built roof. Wood is bare, creosoted here and there, but no paint. He has tried to steal an hour of sleep after an unholy night of ceaseless howl and shredding from the fiercest storm this parish has ever seen. How the roof stayed on was miracle indeed, testament to his late Uncle Zachary’s carpentry skill. The extra nail he’d always pound, just to be sure. But that craftsmanship has also imprisoned poor Rubiaux here in dire predicament. All night, as the din of the tempest crescendoed again and again, he thought it surely must be the Rapture. But here he is at dawn—left behind—not risen to heaven.”
This is the author’s first piece of fiction he ever sent out, and his first published story. (!!!) He notes, “The tale was spawned from an exercise given to me: write about a man in a room with a plant.” [Note: This is why writing teachers like to assign exercises!]
“Sagittarius” by Greg Hrbek, is about an unusual baby born to a couple…think centaur. "Fix" the baby, or not?
From the beginning:
“…While they were arguing (again) about the surgery, the baby vaulted over the rail of the playpen, as if it were a hurdle to be cleared. They heard his hooves scrabbling on the rubber mat, but were too late to see him jump: tucking his forelegs up, hind legs flexing and thrusting, body tracing a parabola through the air; then the earthward reach of the forelegs, the tucking up of the rear hooves, the landing. They shouted his name in unison. When they reached the sunroom, they saw him bounding out the door. Upper half, human half, twisted in their direction; a look of joy and terror in the infant’s eyes. But the equine part would not stop…”
And I’m always interested to hear stories like this one, from the author’s note: “The first version of the story was rejected by about fifteen magazines and journals. I later rewrote it, adding the older brother and his point of view, and his character led me to the idea of the car crash. I’m thankful now for the failure of the first version, because this final one is much better.”
Enough teasing…get your own copy!
(Note to FTC Overlords: I bought this book with my own money. No freebies to report.)
I didn’t discover any new journals, but I did find some great new (to me) writers and stories. Here are some of my favorites:
“Into the Gorge” by Ron Rash, set in the mountainous South, is a tight and tragic story about the loss of land and a way of life, all the more chilling because we know the inevitable outcome.
First paragraph:
“His great-aunt had been born on this land, lived on it eight decades and knew it as well as she knew her husband and children. That was what she’d always claimed, and could tell you to the week when the first dogwood blossom would brighten the ridge, the first blackberry darken and swell enough to harvest. Then her mind had wandered into a place she could not follow, taking with it all the people she knew, their names and connections, whether they still lived or whether they’d died. But her body lingered, shed of an inner being, empty as a cicada husk.”
The author notes that the story “came to me first as an image. A man was running from something. He was too old to be running, yet he was running nevertheless.”
“Rubiaux Rising” by Steve de Jarnatt, is set during Hurricane Katrina, about a war veteran whose aunt has locked him up in the attic as a homestyle method of drug withdrawal. The aunt has gone to town before the storm saying she’d be back…but hasn’t returned.
From the beginning:
“This early morning, as Rubiaux rouses, it is long-dead quiet. Like wads of chawed paper stuck flush back up against eardrums. Just blood rushing nothing in his head. Then blood rushing nothing in his head. Then blood simmers down, and he can hear gulls squawking on the wind somewhere. He sees gray light squeezing through rippage in the curling tarpaper lining the inside of this well-built roof. Wood is bare, creosoted here and there, but no paint. He has tried to steal an hour of sleep after an unholy night of ceaseless howl and shredding from the fiercest storm this parish has ever seen. How the roof stayed on was miracle indeed, testament to his late Uncle Zachary’s carpentry skill. The extra nail he’d always pound, just to be sure. But that craftsmanship has also imprisoned poor Rubiaux here in dire predicament. All night, as the din of the tempest crescendoed again and again, he thought it surely must be the Rapture. But here he is at dawn—left behind—not risen to heaven.”
This is the author’s first piece of fiction he ever sent out, and his first published story. (!!!) He notes, “The tale was spawned from an exercise given to me: write about a man in a room with a plant.” [Note: This is why writing teachers like to assign exercises!]
“Sagittarius” by Greg Hrbek, is about an unusual baby born to a couple…think centaur. "Fix" the baby, or not?
From the beginning:
“…While they were arguing (again) about the surgery, the baby vaulted over the rail of the playpen, as if it were a hurdle to be cleared. They heard his hooves scrabbling on the rubber mat, but were too late to see him jump: tucking his forelegs up, hind legs flexing and thrusting, body tracing a parabola through the air; then the earthward reach of the forelegs, the tucking up of the rear hooves, the landing. They shouted his name in unison. When they reached the sunroom, they saw him bounding out the door. Upper half, human half, twisted in their direction; a look of joy and terror in the infant’s eyes. But the equine part would not stop…”
And I’m always interested to hear stories like this one, from the author’s note: “The first version of the story was rejected by about fifteen magazines and journals. I later rewrote it, adding the older brother and his point of view, and his character led me to the idea of the car crash. I’m thankful now for the failure of the first version, because this final one is much better.”
Enough teasing…get your own copy!
(Note to FTC Overlords: I bought this book with my own money. No freebies to report.)
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