Praised Questions from a Literary Evening with Paula McLain

Oh, where to begin? I really should take better care of this blog and update a day or so after things happen, to keep everything up to date and short. So instead of bombarding everyone with a massive update, let's do this one at a time.

A few weeks ago, Mike and I attended a Pittsburgh Arts and Lectures Literary Evening with Paula McLain.  The author is an adorable woman who lives nearby (Cleveland--in author speak, that's nearby) and managed to succeed when she had a moment of "inspiration meets desperation." Her personal history is astounding and at the time of the idea for The Paris Wife, she had quit teaching just to write the book. She said that if this book didn't work out (because the first one had flopped), then she would apply at Whole Foods. After listening to her talk about letter writing, personal language, and writing lifestyles, she actually persuaded Mike to read The Paris Wife, which is a rather feminist novel. He hasn't yet, but one day he might. It's at least on his list. Apparently her next big project is a book about Marie Currie, the announcement of which got all of our attentions. If she did this well with Hadley Richardson (Ernest Hemingway's first wife and main character of The Paris Wife), I can only imagine what she'll do with Marie.

At every event, we are allowed to stand up and ask a question. Mike and I always do this at these events. His question was about whether McLain had pieces of Hadley that were still part of her, whether Hadley's personality changed McLain's. She had already talked about falling in love with the character and immersing herself in this woman's language (which everyone can read because Ernest kept all their letters to each other and they're available at a library somewhere on the east coast). The question literally knocked McLain back a few steps. She said that a few pieces of Hadley's personality were there, and talked about the interaction and influence that comes from working so close with a character.

My question came next (not many people were standing by this point). I asked about whether she had intended to create a triangulation of events--how taking The Paris Wife, The Sun Also Rises, and A Moveable Feast reveals a central point of truth about what actually happened--and what she thinks about it if she hadn't intended that. It knocked her back again, and she praised the second balcony (general admission seating) for the questions, calling us the literary scholar balcony. She answered that she had intended something of the sort, kinda, and then chatted about it.

The problem with only reading one book by a favorable author is that when you stand in line for a signing, you don't know what to say. This is especially true when you say what you wanted to during the Q&A session. So in line, I said "Hi," to her again and thanked her for answering my question. I hope that one day, I'll meet her again... Maybe as equals. It would be nice to have an author friend who lives close.

Editorial assistant, and a stalled writing life

When compared to other writing friends (some of whom are currently at the AWP conference), I feel as if I am failing as a writer. They just seem to write more than I do, or do more literary activities than I do. This past week, in particular, has been especially hard because I've wanted to write, but my brain couldn't decide what to work on: first person present tense for my thesis story, third person past tense for my NaNoWriMo novel, or undecided POV and tense for a short story/novellette. The words are there, but they're trapped behind a brick wall and I can't even pry them out through the cracks. I've even slowed down reading books, except for a handful of thin poetry books from Autumn House Press. Even then, I needed a break from them after a few nights. 

But things aren't all dismal. I was recently appointed the editorial assistant for Weave magazine, a print literary magazine that concentrates on dark humor, magical realism, the strange and fantastical, realistic narratives in fiction and poetry, strong and well-developed characters as well as flawed ones, dynamic female characters, retellings of old stories and fairy tales and myths, the playing of language, women authors and characters, LGTBQ authors and characters, diversity, community... and... well... a bunch of really cool stuff. It seemed like an extremely good fit for me. I met the creator at a Bridges conference at Chatham recently and through talking with her and going through the application process, I got the job! It's non-paid but that's okay. On the literary panel at the conference, the panelists said that in order to maintain a job in publishing, you have to volunteer to read the slush piles and help out. Once you get a few of those jobs under your belt, along with some official internships, you'll be more likely to be accepted in a paying position elsewhere. 

I should get around 10 submissions a week. This week was 17 because about seven of them were pieces that had been already accepted. I had to read them in order to get a feel for what the comments on the side were like (in Submittable) and what stories they tend to accept. It will be interesting. I finished all the accepted ones tonight. Here's hoping I can read most of the pending submissions tomorrow to catch up. 

Also, Mike has read most of my thesis. He's taken to reading for an hour or so on Saturday mornings, when he has some quiet time while I get to sleep in. He's almost 3/4 of the way through. He hasn't said anything about it yet, though. But, this is a start. And he says that it might not be a habit, because you can't count something as a habit if it's only done two weeks in a row. Maybe three weeks. It is almost a push for me to continue working on either that story or the NaNo one so he has something else to continue of mine, but that might be hoping for too much. If it took him this long to read something relatively established... getting him to read a WIP is a long-shot, and he has so many other books to get to anyway. It would be nice if Saturday mornings became his official reading times, though. 

Valentines

The fantastic doesn't always have to occur in writing, or writing opportunities. Sometimes, it's just a few things throughout the day that make you smile.

This morning, I assembled an 8-bit flower bouquet from ThinkGeek, pulled two Shel Silverstein books from a hiding place underneath a pile of teddybears on a bookshelf, and stood up a Charlie Brown card--all for my boyfriend to discover on the table after I'd left for work. :)

He only had "Everything on It," so I figured that he'd enjoy "Where the Sidewalk Ends" and "Falling Up" because he admitted to liking Shel Silverstein but not having read much of his work. Poetry, Charlie Brown, and video game references on Valentine's Day seemed to be good choices for my guy.

And tonight, we're going to The Melting Pot. I fully anticipate a food hangover. The last and only time I've had one of those was the day after going to that same restaurant with my mother for our birthdays. The rich food in vast quantities will make us too stuffed to move, and we'll have to guzzle water to offset all the sodium, but it will be delicious and worth it.

A few weeks ago, I'd sent Mike an advertisement for it and told him that I'd contribute to the bill if we went (I've been trying to get him to go there for a while). He responded with: "What time do you want to eat?" I asked him how much he wanted me to pay him back, and he said he wouldn't hear of that. The whole thing is somewhere around $140. O.O

So! He received the surprise on the table this morning.

Happy Valentines Day, everyone!

Steps in the Right Direction

Recently, there have been a few steps in the right direction in terms of my writing career. 

1. Promotion. I was offered to be promoted to "Columnist" for Coal Hill Review. As it stood before, I was an occasional contributor for book reviews. This promotion means that my name is listed on the left side's panel with the other official bloggers and I get a bio paragraph. Basically, my name is more noticeable and it'll be easier to get to my reviews. The position still isn't paid, but that's okay. It's still the exposure that counts. I have to submit reviews or prose once a month. Should be doable. I'll probably stick to a literature/writing theme. The other themes are teaching experiences, culture clashes, poetry reviews, and "nature, humor, politics, and diet... the whole range of human experience, according to my editor.
2. Pittsburgh Quarterly. I've been an editorial intern for Pittsburgh Quarterly for almost a year. After the first required semester was complete, I didn't have to go to the weekly meetings anymore because I reached my credit requirement. However, the internship itself extended indefinitely because I was still able to proofread for them. Also, we started revising its style guide in order to make it coherent, cohesive, easier to navigate, and easier to access. Eventually, it'll be posted online. Because I'm the main copyediting intern, this project became my baby, so to speak. It stalled around the holidays and will pick up again in the next month or so. In the meantime, I was able to get in touch with my editor and learn that the spring issue is about to be released. In order to proofread for it, I'd need to get it this weekend. Surprise. I'm okay with this, though, because I wouldn't want my name listed as an intern on something that I hadn't touched.
3. Submissions. My pile of rejections is growing. So, I "submission bombed" last night. I'm not sure if six simultaneous submissions counts as bombing, though... My friend Beth seems to be on a roll with submission acceptances lately. I think she has at least six stories that have been published, and (so she claims) a pile of rejections. Compare that to my one acceptance, and I feel like I'm failing as a writer. Again. So instead of reading or writing last night, I chose to research lit mags and submit. It took most of the evening. Crazy...
4. Short story idea. The other night, I had an idea for a short story. I let it simmer for a bit and then, a couple days later, it hit me full force and I had to jot down scenes. It's nice when this happens, while it lasts. I feel like I've been off more than I can chew, though, because of its themes and actions. It will be about the concept of mercy, and the main character is a nurse. It lacks a definitive conflict, though, and I'm afraid people will consider it to be boring. We'll see... The idea has since stopped yelling at me, so I'm not sure how long it will take to write. But! It's the first feasible short story idea I've had in a long time.
5. Agent contest. I recently entered the Lucky Day Agent contest. The theme this year was sci-fi or YA. No, I am not yet prepared for an agent. However, the contest itself was easy to enter. All I needed to do was post about it twice on social media platforms, provide proof of those posts, and submit the first 150-200 words of a first chapter. Winners of this national contest receive reviews of their first 10 pages from the agent judge, and a year's free prescription to Writersmarket.com, I think. I don't expect much from this considering it's a national contest and many, many people entered. However, I took a shot and it pushed me to start revising portions of my NaNoWriMo novel in the meantime, even though it's not yet finished and probably won't be for a while. I've gotten stuck on some points... Anyway, the winners will be announced at the end of this month.

He Wouldn't Like It Anyway

Backstory:

A year or so ago, my boyfriend became angry at me. When he was talking to online friends, they asked if I was a good writer. He said yes. Then they asked what I wrote about, and he said that he didn't know. He then realized that he'd never read anything I wrote. The two poems I'd shown him didn't count because I was a fiction writer.

He then confronted me. He told me that he was angry and a bit hurt that I hadn't showed him anything. The whole thing caught me off guard. I was astounded that anyone would actively seek to read what I wrote. Throughout high school, I'd hand people new revisions of the same stories, just because things had changed that they might want to know about--no matter how subtle. I thought I'd spare him from that. Just because he's my boyfriend, that doesn't mean he's my editor, too. Especially because he's not a writer or an avid reader. But here he was, demanding to see what I wrote.

So I read him a draft of a chapter. It was half of a chapter, actually. In fact, it had won a small monetary award during an international honor society's convention that previous year. When I finished, he was quiet. He didn't want me to read him anything else that night because he was still registering that chapter. He said it made him feel sad, which is a fantastic compliment because that meant I did something right.

But he hasn't read anything since, except for book reviews. He doesn't read much fiction. Most of his audiobooks are nonfiction. And he's not a fan of fantasy or sci-fi. So my book reviews grab his attention, but nothing else. That story I got published? He skimmed it. My thesis? The most work I'd done in one legitimate story at the time? The story I used as a personal challenge and succeeded? The story that was good enough to permit my graduation, and that other friends and mentors love and demand that I write more in?

He read up to chapter two and stopped. (Similarly, my mother read the boring but mandatory introduction, became half-jokingly hurt that I hadn't thanked her on my acknowledgments page, and put it down, too. It would have been the first fiction story she'd read of mine since.... grade school.)

He said the voice was hard to follow, despite knowing that it shifts into better coherence throughout the third and fourth chapters (the main character is recovering from shock). And then he said that the character's choices angered him, despite the fact that he helped me figure out what the guy should do.

He said he'd pick it up again.

He said he'd give it another shot, knowing that the voice changes.

He hasn't touched it since June.

Current Events:

There is an expectation that because he's my boyfriend, he should read works that I'm proud about. It's minor, though, because I've heard that same argument about friendship and I still wasn't able to read a friend's attempt at a novel. It actually helped to break that friendship a few years ago. But... my expectations with him stem from his previous actions. Re: Him yelling at me.

So every day that I know it's on his To Do list, and he doesn't do it, it chips away at me.

Every day that he's bored and wonders what to do to fill his evening, I suggest that he read, in general. He doesn't. He decides to play Halo 4 instead. Typical guy. And every night he spends staring at his back-lit devices before bed (and can't sleep because of them), I suggest that he read instead. He doesn't. He said that if I gave him a .pdf of the story, he'd read it easier on his iPad. He doesn't. He says that if he gets a Kindle, he'll read more. I don't believe him because he's unlikely to read a print book. It does happen, gradually, but most of the time he's playing a game or searching the Internet. He hasn't proven to me that he'd use the Kindle to read. And he hasn't proven to me that he'll ever return to my thesis. And when I used to ask if he'd ever read the story, he got mad at me for suggesting that he wasn't going to. He still hasn't done it, though, because he said he forgets and I should remind him.

But I shouldn't have to remind him to do something that meant so much to me. I shouldn't have to badger him like that, especially if there's a chance that he won't like the story. And I don't want to force him to read it, either.

What happened to the guy who wanted to read my stuff?

He found out that I write magical realism, and wasn't interested anymore.

Enough of me has been chipped away that it started to affect our relationship. He knows I've been feeling down lately, but doesn't know all of the causes. The thesis is only a small portion of that. So the other night it was bad enough that I was crying when I came to bed. I don't know if he knew.

But as I laid there, I had one line going through my head: He wouldn't like it anyway.

Why make him read something if he wouldn't like it anyway? Why put up with a smile and a hug and a statement that "it was good," when he wouldn't like it anyway? I'd rather he not read it than have him save face like that.

And oddly, the mantra has worked so far. That was the mental trick I needed to glue myself back together. I'll just go back to the way things were before he yelled at me. And it'll be fine. In time. I just wanted to get this out because I'm still fixing myself. This post isn't meant as some sort of passive-aggressive attempt to get him to read my stories. It's just something long overdue to get off my chest.

Warning: Passive-Aggressive Facebook Rants May Result in Opportunity Returns

"The Sheltering Sky" by Paul Bowels is an agonizing 10.5-hours-long piece of existentialist fiction. The audiobook was narrated by Jennifer Connelly, so I figured that it had to be good if an actress of her caliber liked it enough to read it aloud. According to the summary, she even said of it: "Paul Bowles's writing is so extraordinary, so special. The landscapes are magical, the characters are questioning so much--it's haunting in a very beautiful way." Okay, that got my attention.

Its summary also claims that the book is "a landmark of 20th century literature, a novel of existential despair that examines the limits of humanity when it touches the unfathomable emptiness of the desert." Well, okay then. It caught my interest. And with the main characters "finding themselves adrift in the cities and deserts of North Africa after WWII," it just adds to the intrigue. For all intents and purposes, this should have been an interesting read, especially because I took an Existentialism and Phenomenology course while I was still an undergrad, and went on to minor in Philosophy (among other subjects). I thought it would be nice to slip back into the subject through fiction. A well-known philosophic writer, Milan Kundera, is always fascinating (once you get past the obsession with promiscuous women, virile men, sex, and cheating), so I figured that Paul Bowles might add a touch more plot to a story and use the philosophy as a subtle foundation. 

I settled into my car, turned on the audiobook, and fully expected to be drawn into a haunting world that would ease me into the depths of myself and leave me there, pondering.

But the book pissed me off and I cheered when I finally finished it. So what did I do afterward? I took it to Facebook, of course! 

Ok, I'm not one to rant about a book on here. Usually, one or two sentences if something is really striking. But I can't help myself this time. Paul Bowles, I hate your story of "The Sheltering Sky." Every character is deplorable and despicable. You don't understand women at all. Your novel is existential, sure, but wow... Your main female character is weak, a slut, accepts rape without much defense, and is so bipolar that she gives women everywhere a bad reputation.

Admittedly, what I did is considered to be a passive-aggressive "mini-rant." What good could possibly come from the post? At the most, I could dissuade any friends from reading it. I would even consider that to be a job well done, if it worked (turns out, a co-worker wants to read it specifically because of my rant). 

And yet! Something entirely unexpected happened. 

I should backtrack.

In any business, you often hear the phrase: "It's all about who you know." People will obtain promising opportunities based almost entirely on who they know--who can make something happen for them. In my case, it's not so much that as it is building supports for a bridge that I'd already crossed. 

I write book reviews for an online literary magazine. The site mostly posts about reviews and blogs, but it also holds poetry chapbook contests. My reviews are occasional, but they're still legitimate online publications. And it's a lot of fun to contact publishing companies, request a copy of a novel for a review, and receive it in the mail for free. Who knew? It's a bibliophile's dream.

I obtained the position of fantasy/sci-fi reviewer because I had interned for the site's umbrella company, an independent publishing house. I had already written a couple reviews for a separate, local online literary magazine, told my boss about it, and he offered to give me a shot at writing for his online review. It worked, and here I am. And we've managed to maintain a stable, professional relationship through Facebook. 

When I wrote that Facebook mini-rant, I figured that people would either agree, disagree, or not post comments at all. And when I saw that my boss liked the rant, I smirked and then thought nothing more of it. But a moment later, he messaged me. 

And here's where things really get interesting. 

His words were so wonderful, so inflating, that I almost couldn't believe they were happening. He said he loved my rant and asked if I would write a blog about it (NOT this one, of course) for the online review. He wanted me to "disembowel" Bowels. He wanted me to use the same flip, irreverent tone. He wanted me to make a "hatchetjob" of it. He said that not every book should get a positive review, that some "classics" deserve to be ripped apart. He then complimented my writing and the work that I've submitted to him, and said that he's looking forward to the blog. He also gave me until March to write it because I already have a review due to him by February 1.

And after the conversation finished, I sat back and realized how odd and unexpected it was. I mean... you post an angry rant on Facebook and you expect people to be like, "Oh... another passive-aggressive rant that does nothing." Not this time! This time, it enhanced my career. And this time, I can't just drop a hated story and be done with it. I have to mull over it and keep notes for a 1,000-word officially-published blog entry. I have to stay angry in order to maintain the right tone. This should be interesting. 

Although this event is not an indication that passive-aggressiveness is good, it is an indication that a well-written, passive-aggressive post from a book reviewer might catch the attention of an editor with whom she's friends. So, I guess it is about who I know. And it's also about making informed opinions, and taking presented opportunities.

The Great Unexpected Meeting with an Award-winning Author

This post is long overdue, but it fits here.

A few weeks ago, my boyfriend and I attended a Pittsburgh Arts and Lectures event of Black, White & Read All Over for Sharon Creech. She wrote Walk Two Moons (Newbery Award), Love That Dog, etc. Lots and lots of children/YA books. Her new one is The Great Unexpected.

I recognized her name because of Walk Two Moons and had managed to finish reading it before the event. Huzzah huzzah. The book had been sitting on my To Read shelf for months. Grad school had prevented me from getting to it yet, and I'd never read it as a child. It's an award winner, so it deserves to be read. And because it won an award, I figured it would be beneficial to listen to the author speak.

I did not figure on meeting her before the event, though!

Mike and I had gotten sandwiches and a drink from the Carnegie Library's cafe. But when we got to its lecture hall, we saw a sign that read: No Food or Drink Beyond This Point in the Auditorium. Well, crap. So while people filed past us, we stood in front of the ticket booth, scarfing the food. A friend of mine worked behind the counter. She recognized me and had handed me the tickets as soon as we had walked up, so that wasn't a problem. And there didn't seem to be many people (sadly) compared to other events I'd gone to (though it was marketed as a children's event), so we weren't too worried about not getting seats together.

As we stood there, a woman lingered near the wall next to us. I just figured that she was waiting for someone else to arrive. But after a few minutes, she turned to us and said:

"Are you here for the event?"
"Yes!" we said. "We're just trying to finish our food because of that sign."
"Oh." And then she said, "Well, I'm Sharon Creech."

WHAT?!

We graciously greeted her and I told her what I had planned to say during the signing. And the words came out much more smoothly than they would have later. There is something about a calmer environment that brings about calmer words. When you're standing in a signing line, you have to spit out your message while being aware that the people behind you want you to hurry up and finish so they can get a turn, and the event's host is ushering people along if they dally too long.

But in that entryway, there was no one but the three of us and my friend behind the counter. I told Sharon that I'd just finished her book a week prior to the event, and that I was impressed by its parallel plot structure.

Then she said, "Are you teachers?" And Mike and I laughed.

To think... she's so used to dealing with children that any adult she meets must either be a teacher or a parent. Why else would 20-30-something-year-old people attend her event? I told her that I was a writer and had just completed my MFA, and that seemed to perfectly smooth over the situation.

By that point, someone started talking on stage. We bid Sharon goodbye, tossed out the last bites of the sandwich, drained the rest of the drink, and took our seats. I ended up purchasing three other signed books while there and got her to personalize Walk Two Moons. While waiting in line, I read and finished Love That Dog, which is an awesome book.

I feel bad, though. In all the hubbub of seeing her again, I just kinda walked up beside her to get the picture taken... without asking... So many people were doing the same that it just slipped my mind. I think I made up for it by making her laugh afterward when I told her how quickly I read Love That Dog. By that point, I had already started Hate That Cat, too. So Sharon, on the off-chance that you're reading this, I'm sorry for presuming like that.