Faith. I've been viewing George Michael's version on YouTube, because I used it as a trope in story. In the song, Faith is about expecting better, thinking you deserve better, holding out for more.
Right this second, Jed and I having a contest. Can he, with his funny ways, cheer me up before I bring him down? I can see the dark side of everything. I tell people that I'm a little bit evil, like Donny's a little bit rock and roll. What, you weren't born when that show was on TV? Great, now I feel lots better.
I don't remember ever believing in God. The CCD teachers, my strongly religious father, my devout grandmother, all seemed superstitious and illogical in their beliefs. No meat on Friday during lent? Holy water? They could never answer a question like, was Mary a virgin her whole life or only until Jesus was born? I mean, come on, doesn't God love Joseph too?
I did like the pretty white first communion dress, though, with the veil. My aunt Ruth, who died in 1989, made it for me. She also made my favorite kindergarten dress, a purple and green pinafore that I looked very sweet in. I miss her. I'd love to believe she's up in heaven, with my two grandpas and Angel, Muffin, Skippy and Cleo, our family's lost pets. I don't though.
A friend believes the universe sets her up for things, wants her to take this job or that job, be with this guy or that guy. I personally don't think the universe cares much one way or another. It reminds me of the way my brother used to leave the room when the Bills were winning; he was a jinx, he said. Or the way people make little vows, if I don't swear all day long, the Sabres will make the playoffs.
I really hate "it was meant to be." What kind of a plan has my grandfather, a gentle man his entire life, die strapped in a hospital bed, because he had alzheimer's? What kind of plan mows down my Aunt Millie with a brain tumor a year after she retired. Was anyone helped because she lost the ability to walk and eat without assistance? Some things are tragedies, and all we can do is mourn them.
The thing is, I don't want to not see the dark side. I think writers need to see the dark side. In that same story, I also used a bit of a Smiths song, and was thrilled to find a lot of their stuff on YouTube, since I haven't been able to get it on iTunes. One thing that really surprised was how many comments there were expressing disbelief that Morrissey is gay. He has a girlfriend, they say. Yes, but she's in a coma. Or she's in the basement with him, alone, and he doesn't know what to do with her. Or, she's a fat girl saying if you'd like you can marry me and if you'd like you can buy the ring...from the song, William, it was really nothing (it was your life). I think these commenters were naive. Some people need happy endings, of the Meg Ryan-Kate Hudson variety. They don't want to be reminded of all the darkness in the world.
But, for me, there's no trick in that. The trick is finding something to believe in while the darkness has you pinned to the mat, because that is the only way you will ever get up. And for me the answer is other people. Especially the ones who come through when the worst happens, even if you don't deserve it. And the ones who root for you and, especially, the ones who make you laugh.
Jed won our little bet easily. Good for him.
Thursday, September 27, 2007
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
Bigger than Barbie Footballs
I told Jed my next post would be about the biggest grapes I'd ever seen. Really big grapes, about three or four times the size of regular grapes. I can't get the metaphor. Smaller than eggs, bigger than Barbie footballs.
Loni* my coworker had these grapes in a ziploc bag, and she was sharing them with the office. Radioactive, I said. Steroids, Uncle F. said.
There was laughter. They were pretty good, sweet green grapes.
Nothing makes Loni happier than putting something really big in her mouth, Molly said.
Molly is very funny. I have a file going with her lines.
Now, I can use this bit in a story I happen to be working on, although grapes won't work, since the piece is set in a bar. But I was wondering how others handle overheard dialogue, especially if it's good. Is it stealing? Do you ever use it verbatim? Do you save it until you have a story it will fit into? Or do you work it into whatever you're writing, so you don't lose it?
What about other little observations and details? Do you come up with them to serve your story, or do you see the actual thing first and then somehow work it in, give it to a character, build a scene or story around the real moment?
Sometimes I think part of my problem is that I do it backwards. I often start with details and have no idea what the main plot of my story is about...
I'm also wondering where Jed has been. I haven't heard from him since I typed, okay, you be the husband, in the IM window....
*all names have been changed to protect the innocent.
Loni* my coworker had these grapes in a ziploc bag, and she was sharing them with the office. Radioactive, I said. Steroids, Uncle F. said.
There was laughter. They were pretty good, sweet green grapes.
Nothing makes Loni happier than putting something really big in her mouth, Molly said.
Molly is very funny. I have a file going with her lines.
Now, I can use this bit in a story I happen to be working on, although grapes won't work, since the piece is set in a bar. But I was wondering how others handle overheard dialogue, especially if it's good. Is it stealing? Do you ever use it verbatim? Do you save it until you have a story it will fit into? Or do you work it into whatever you're writing, so you don't lose it?
What about other little observations and details? Do you come up with them to serve your story, or do you see the actual thing first and then somehow work it in, give it to a character, build a scene or story around the real moment?
Sometimes I think part of my problem is that I do it backwards. I often start with details and have no idea what the main plot of my story is about...
I'm also wondering where Jed has been. I haven't heard from him since I typed, okay, you be the husband, in the IM window....
*all names have been changed to protect the innocent.
Monday, September 17, 2007
Writing Is a Sport, Like Everything Else
The French Connection (Robert, Perrault and Martin), Football, and Figure Skating. Must be the alliteration, my love of sports that start with F.
Figure skating--maybe you think it's not a sport. Okay, but I want to see you spin around three times in the air and land on one foot...
Maybe you think Figure Skating is evil, a so-called women's sport in which girls do best, girls doing everything they can to keep their bodies adolescent, in order to pull off jumps that full-grown women with normal body fat percentages cannot complete. Better, you say, to watch Mia Hamm or Lisa Leslie, grown women who are strong, who are part of a team, who do not worry about what they are wearing.
True and Fine, but how is that like life or writing? The thing with figure skating is that it's random and unfair. Pretty is an advantage, as is having the right designer outfit, the right music, the right kind of rhinestone ponytail holder. It matters whether you smile and maintain your poise after you fall down. Plus, there's a Kiss and Cry, where you have to react, on live TV, to the judgement you receive.
Kind of like life, where things are random and unfair, and how you handle pressure matters. Now some of the most blatant abuses have gone away with the end of cold war politics. Our new global divisions are unlikely to impact skating again. Unless Vera Wang modifies the Burquini , our athletes won't have to contend with the Pakistani judge's ideological bias.
So what does this have to do with writing, you want to know? Besides the alliteration...
First, it's a package deal. Like a figure skating routine, a piece works or it doesn't. The elements come together, and your story catches an editor's eye, even if another story had more metaphors or faster similes. Also, there's no definitive measure, no hard and fast rules, just objective judgements--the Czech judge likes Kristi, the editor at the Atlantic Monthly is sick of coming-of-age pieces, and your competition at Ploughshares was in the same MFA program as the volunteer reader. All you can do out there on the ice is your best. If you mess up, smile, get up and start again. Maybe wink at the French judge a little more often... With your writing, all you can do is make your stuff as good as you can. When a publication only takes 1-2% of submissions, the only strategy is to smile in the face of rejection, and keep going.
Last winter, I skated for the first time in decades. After holding onto the boards for a good long time, I was able to skate around without holding onto the boards...call me Kwan. Hey, progress is progress. I hope I'm a better writer than skater, but my plan is to keep at it, do my best, and get up when I fall down.
Maybe I’ll ask Jed if he can help me think of more sports that start with F, so I don’t run out of things to blog about….
Figure skating--maybe you think it's not a sport. Okay, but I want to see you spin around three times in the air and land on one foot...
Maybe you think Figure Skating is evil, a so-called women's sport in which girls do best, girls doing everything they can to keep their bodies adolescent, in order to pull off jumps that full-grown women with normal body fat percentages cannot complete. Better, you say, to watch Mia Hamm or Lisa Leslie, grown women who are strong, who are part of a team, who do not worry about what they are wearing.
True and Fine, but how is that like life or writing? The thing with figure skating is that it's random and unfair. Pretty is an advantage, as is having the right designer outfit, the right music, the right kind of rhinestone ponytail holder. It matters whether you smile and maintain your poise after you fall down. Plus, there's a Kiss and Cry, where you have to react, on live TV, to the judgement you receive.
Kind of like life, where things are random and unfair, and how you handle pressure matters. Now some of the most blatant abuses have gone away with the end of cold war politics. Our new global divisions are unlikely to impact skating again. Unless Vera Wang modifies the Burquini , our athletes won't have to contend with the Pakistani judge's ideological bias.
So what does this have to do with writing, you want to know? Besides the alliteration...
First, it's a package deal. Like a figure skating routine, a piece works or it doesn't. The elements come together, and your story catches an editor's eye, even if another story had more metaphors or faster similes. Also, there's no definitive measure, no hard and fast rules, just objective judgements--the Czech judge likes Kristi, the editor at the Atlantic Monthly is sick of coming-of-age pieces, and your competition at Ploughshares was in the same MFA program as the volunteer reader. All you can do out there on the ice is your best. If you mess up, smile, get up and start again. Maybe wink at the French judge a little more often... With your writing, all you can do is make your stuff as good as you can. When a publication only takes 1-2% of submissions, the only strategy is to smile in the face of rejection, and keep going.
Last winter, I skated for the first time in decades. After holding onto the boards for a good long time, I was able to skate around without holding onto the boards...call me Kwan. Hey, progress is progress. I hope I'm a better writer than skater, but my plan is to keep at it, do my best, and get up when I fall down.
Maybe I’ll ask Jed if he can help me think of more sports that start with F, so I don’t run out of things to blog about….
Saturday, September 15, 2007
Stories
The list of stories at right includes some lucky finds, some gifts from friends, many personal favorites and a few classics. It's in reverse alpha order, and while I'm generally not a huge fan of reverse alpha order--being forced to go first across the stage at my high school graduation made up my mind about that, the anti-alphabetical arrangement happened by accident and is time-consuming to fix, so it's staying as is.
I think all these stories are great reads, but here's a bit of an overview. Margaret Atwood is a favorite author, and "Happy Endings" shows her sharp wit, gives her usual dry take on the war between the sexes, gets to the essence of the human condition and offers insight into writing. Geoffrey Becker's "Black Elvis" and Marilyn Krysl's "The Thing Around Them" come from the 2000 Best American Short Stories, the best of the series IMO. "The Thing Around Them" has a heart-stopping opening line, "Because of the boy dragged behind the jeep...." How can you not have to read that story now. The other Krysl piece is a bonus, and a great example of meta-fiction. I'm fond of stories that observe the writing process. Amy Hempel's "The Harvest" is another example. Her "Today Will Be A Quiet Day," is a lovely slice of life, full of her typical spot-on perfect details, told in to-the-essence minimalist style. "Offertory," is a long piece for Hempel, and a sequel to her mini-novella, "Tumble Home" to boot.
"Offertory," like Mary Gaitskill's "The Secretary," and AM Homes "A Real Doll" is a bit raw and erotic; yet none of these stories titillate. Despite the raw sexual content, they veer towards sadness, underlining our human need for connection and our need to be valued.
Classics I ran across on the web include "The Swimmer," "The Secret Life of Walter Mitty," "Everything That Rises Must Converge," "The Dead," and "A&P." "181/2" features famous voices and a surprise twist; "The Things They Carried," gets me every time and "Memento Mori," is the short story the movie "Momento" came from. "The Best Girlfriend You Never Had," is another personal favorite. "Birds in Fall," is the opening chapter to Brad Kessler's novel. Interesting use of first person pov, plus it's beautifully written. And Lou Matthews blows me away with the variety of voices he fully inhabits, "the Garlic Eater," being one fine example.
Probably I will add more to this list from time to time, when inspiration or the need to procrastinate strike...
And I'm adding one more right now: Amy Bloom's "The Gates are Closing." The list will no longer be in reverse alpha order...
I think all these stories are great reads, but here's a bit of an overview. Margaret Atwood is a favorite author, and "Happy Endings" shows her sharp wit, gives her usual dry take on the war between the sexes, gets to the essence of the human condition and offers insight into writing. Geoffrey Becker's "Black Elvis" and Marilyn Krysl's "The Thing Around Them" come from the 2000 Best American Short Stories, the best of the series IMO. "The Thing Around Them" has a heart-stopping opening line, "Because of the boy dragged behind the jeep...." How can you not have to read that story now. The other Krysl piece is a bonus, and a great example of meta-fiction. I'm fond of stories that observe the writing process. Amy Hempel's "The Harvest" is another example. Her "Today Will Be A Quiet Day," is a lovely slice of life, full of her typical spot-on perfect details, told in to-the-essence minimalist style. "Offertory," is a long piece for Hempel, and a sequel to her mini-novella, "Tumble Home" to boot.
"Offertory," like Mary Gaitskill's "The Secretary," and AM Homes "A Real Doll" is a bit raw and erotic; yet none of these stories titillate. Despite the raw sexual content, they veer towards sadness, underlining our human need for connection and our need to be valued.
Classics I ran across on the web include "The Swimmer," "The Secret Life of Walter Mitty," "Everything That Rises Must Converge," "The Dead," and "A&P." "181/2" features famous voices and a surprise twist; "The Things They Carried," gets me every time and "Memento Mori," is the short story the movie "Momento" came from. "The Best Girlfriend You Never Had," is another personal favorite. "Birds in Fall," is the opening chapter to Brad Kessler's novel. Interesting use of first person pov, plus it's beautifully written. And Lou Matthews blows me away with the variety of voices he fully inhabits, "the Garlic Eater," being one fine example.
Probably I will add more to this list from time to time, when inspiration or the need to procrastinate strike...
And I'm adding one more right now: Amy Bloom's "The Gates are Closing." The list will no longer be in reverse alpha order...
Sunday, September 9, 2007
Jed Told Me to Write A Blog Post, So I Did
Just when I thought I was changed into a dedicated and disciplined writer, I got a little busy and well, suddenly I'm roasting pork tenderloins and cutting up watermelon for a tiny little boy who likes to walk around with my iPod, headphones dragging on the floor, little green square clipped onto his pocket. Cute and fun, but no pages done…
One of the things I did this weekend was go to the Swiss Chalet with my dad. We reminisced about our family's Swiss Chalet past--we used to go every Saturday when I was young. We also marveled at the decor. In a hardware theme, vintage Singer sewing machines, saws and handheld washboards adorned the walls. No skis, no snow, no Alps. The pictures of Chalet windows with shutters and window boxes of flowers were still there, but the waitresses no longer wear polyester Swiss Miss uniforms. I feel old. And yet, the fries are still really good, especially when dipped in the barbecue sauce, which is no doubt a mixture of chicken grease, trans fat, high fructose corn syrup and whatever shade of red dye is rust-colored. It's the WNY-southernAnyway, while sitting in a vinyl booth, crowded into a small section with all the other people in the restaurant, watching the waitresses sweep as we ate, I told my dad I was thinking of getting an MFA.
What's that going to do for you? he asked.
I tried to explain, immersion in writing, perhaps a teaching job, yadda yadda yadda yadda.Did I try this before? Didn't I think a college degree from an expensive school would guarantee a bright future?
Sometimes I miss my young and arrogant self, who wasn't so easily defeated.
So, I'm thinking MFA, and still not sure. I guess I'll keep you posted
And I promise, tomorrow I will revise the story I plan to submit to Glimmer Train at the end of the month.
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