The Three Ps of Post- Montana MFA '08:

So Long, Farewell

2011-08-23T08:33:00.000-07:00

The time has come to Kevork the blog. And rather than leave the 3 Ps lingering with half-thoughts in cyberspace forever, we decided, before signing off, to sum up where we are three years later. Our 31 followers will be relieved to know the three of us remained friends as we travailed, and that we will continue to write and be friends as we continue to travail.

Kelly Kathleen Ferguson

Firstly, mostly, and lastly, I have a book coming out this September—My Life as Laura: How I Searched for Laura Ingalls Wilder and Found Myself. I can now be found at kellykathleenferguson.com.

As for the past three years:

Moved to New Orleans. Helped start a writers’ group. Wrote a book proposal. Caught a golden coconut at Zulu. Landed an agent. Golden coconut turned bright turquoise with mold. Lost the agent. Accepted to creative writing PhD program at Ohio University. Signed with Press 53. Moved to Athens. (Not Greece. Not Georgia.) Wrote a book. Published one short story, one profile, one poem, one list and three book reviews. Survived 56 rejections (15 for one story). 2 “encouraging” rejections (same story). 4 no reply. 5 pending. Presented at two conferences. Total student loan debt running at $18,000, but no panhandling. Yet.

There’s also a few thousand hours of time elapse photography of me either staring at my laptop and/or face down crying.

And, coming full circle, I will be reading at the Montana Festival of the Book in Missoula this fall, my first trip back to Montana.

Trina Burke

I moved to Seattle. There was freelance editing and then a friend got me a job in her office at the local university (Networking: It really does work!) It was a temporary job as an administrative assistant. I almost got laid off, but a coworker left and I just happened to have the skills to move into her position on a temporary appointment. Then my appointment was almost up, but a coworker almost died from swine flu and another coworker did die of a heart attack. So I moved into another role. Then I got a permanent appointment. All in three years, all in the same department. I still freelance, but with less frequency.

On the home front: I got married. I moved three times within the same city. The people around me have been marrying, divorcing, and having babies with abandon. I've been to Europe a couple of times. I have a burgeoning pumpkin patch in my back yard. I have a back yard! I'm wickedly happy.

And then there's the writing. I've been rejected a lot, which comes as no surprise. But I've had some small triumphs, too: I won $200 in a contest, published some poems in some journals, had a chapbook accepted and published by Dancing Girl Press, wrote some reviews, attended some seminars abroad. More important than all that, I've managed to keep up a sort of writing practice. Yes, the flood of inspiration and output during the MFA years has diminished, but new work still finds its way out on the regular. I imagine it will continue to do so, regardless of whether any of it gets published.

I don't know if my experience is typical. It has been an exercise in sitting back and seeing what happens. And what I've realized is that nothing happens quickly, or dramatically. This epiphany has allowed me to conclude that there is no deadline for success. If I look back and try to think about what my goal was in getting an MFA, I don't so much find a goal as a nebulous bunch of hopes. I hoped to amass a body of work, which I did. I hoped to read a lot of poetry, which I did. I hoped to meet some awesome people, which I did in spades. I hoped to publish a book, which hasn't happened yet and might never. I think I still came out ahead, though.

It's been a kick. Thanks for reading the blog and best wishes!

Laurie E. White

Adieu! Looking back, working backwards:

[September 2011 – September 2010] I’m in Chicago working as a writer at NogginLabs, designing instructional software (read: eLearning) for Fortune 500 companies. Recently bought our first home in the Rogers Park neighborhood. Adopted a dog; he’s still our neurotic co-pilot.

[September 2010 – January 2009] Wedding (married fellow Montana MFAer Travis Fortney). The 3Ps were together again. A chapbook from From Yes Press. Before Noggin, Research Coordinator for the Department of Chemistry at Northwestern University. (Chemistry?!?) Four poems were picked up for the second issue of > kill author. Adopted a fat cat.

[January 2009 – May 2008] Celebrated in Grant Park on election night. Instructed at an online university; college comp. Copy edited for the Annals of Statistics. One poem in DIAGRAM. Our first Chicago apartment: the super can't distinguish our keys from the 1,000 others on his ring. Proceeds to kick in our back door with his boot, advises us to change the locks. Thisclose to taking a temp job testing Diebold voting machines for the national election in a warehouse for 12 hours/day, $8.00/hour. Drove with one cat, one fellow (see September 2010) and some of our plants straight from Montana to Chicago. Why Chicago? We picked it on a map and drove there. No place to stay. No jobs.

[May 2008] MFA.

What excellent company I’ve been able to keep at 3Ps for 3 years. Thanks for stopping by.

Post-MFA Jobs! Teaching

2011-08-15T09:09:00.000-07:00

There is much gloom and doom in the post-MFA job marketland, but you know what? I know people getting teaching jobs. Granted, to land as a tenure track creative writing prof, it seems you need three creative books and multiple pubs and a critical theory book and edit a renowned lit mag and quite possibly some trapeze skills, but a regular ole' teaching job? (Summers off! Still!) These can be found. (She blogged optimistically.)

I found the following advice online while randomly trawling around. The writer prefers to remain anonymous. But I thought this solid advice deserved re-posting.

"This is just my opinion, but I think too many MFA grads assume that they can only serve as adjuncts, when in fact there are numerous full-time non-tenure track gigs out there to be had, particularly at large state universities. You just have to play your cards right and be patient.

I graduated from a small MFA program that most people have never even heard of and was able to land a full-time non-tt comp gig at a large state university. I make 32K and have full benefits. These kinds of jobs are out there, and 1-2 years of TA experience can get your foot in the door. In the fall of my second year of my MFA program, I checked Higheredjobs and The Chronicle religiously. I didn't even waste my time on the small liberal arts colleges and went after the "State U" type schools that have to fill 5,000,000,000,000,000 sections of freshman comp per year and don't want to burden their research professors with such "service courses."

In fact, the job that I currently hold was landed because I sent my CV to a large state university on my own; this university didn't even post a listing, but needed full-time instructors come July and simply pulled my file; after a go-through-the-motions interview, I was hired and signed a FT contract on the spot.

So, in short, if you want to teach comp FULL-TIME after the MFA, make sure that you:

1) Target the large state universities; you need to target the universities that have the most sections to fill, which obviously increases your chances of being hired; don't waste your time on the SLAC's that have like 5 sections of composition to fill each year.

2) Be open about location. If you picky about location then you're in the wrong profession. The English job market is dreadful and you might need to be willing to teach for a year or two at Middle of Nowhere State U.

3) Don't just send your CV to large state universities that post listings. Any halfway decent comp director will gladly take your CV to put in a file somewhere that just might be accessed in the summer when administrators are scrambling to fill extra sections. I sent emails to tons of comp directors at large state universities and had my CV in their files within a week.

4) If you plan to teach after your MFA, understand that a fellowship to a program that allows you to not teach might actually do you more harm than good. Yes, obviously the main objective of an MFA is to write and not to prepare yourself to teach freshman comp full-time, but at the same time you absolutely need that 1-2 years of teaching experience to get a full-time gig after you leave your MFA program. For full-time comp gigs, is all about the teaching experience; where you earned your degree or whether or not you're published is meaningless for these kinds of jobs. (Obviously that will change as you work toward applying for tenure track creative writing gigs, but that's a completely different ball game)."

So maybe not so sexy. But practical. I also have friends getting Fulbrights, landing instructorships, or just (*gasp*) getting jobs and writing when they write.

Summer Reading

2011-08-08T10:04:00.000-07:00

A down side of higher ed is that it turns the kid who was the library nerd into the Netflix addict. This past year, reading meant Victorian and Romantic lit, critical articles, student essays, reading I’ve assigned my students, workshop submissions, lit mag submissions, assigned reading for workshops, books by visiting writers so I don’t look like a schmo at dinner, etc. Plus, I went to twenty or so readings.

You burn out.

Yes, it’s fantastic that reading is my “job” (although the critical articles take a bit of self-flagellation). This means I have found my vocation. But. When I’m not reading, then I’d rather catch up on the latest season of Mad Men.

Enter summer. Time to read whatever I want!

So what do I choose? Infinite Jest. Way to relax, Kelly. There was, finally, the finite, but there went July. The best advice I can give here is 1) Don’t do this alone. Pick one or two people you can count on and meet once a week 2) Read the introduction by Dave Eggers which explains why this 1,179 page beast is actually worth the investment 3) Have two bookmarks—one for the chapters and one for the endnotes 4) While it’s good to experience the book on its own terms, sans "spoilers," I took advantage of some Wikis to help me keep track. (For instance, there are over 200 characters).

As for my own review? While I experienced definite moments of infinite frustration, I emerged from the book changed. I interact and perceive the world differently from when I began. Is there something more we demand from a novel?

Next: A Visit From the Good Squad by Jennifer Egan. The chapters morph in setting and time and point of view, and one chapter is written completely in a graphic representation of PowerPoint. Post DFW? No problem. My brain was in fighting shape. Finished in two days. The book has been criticized for reading like collected short stories as opposed to a “real” novel, but I felt the gel. Language, story, characters, plot turns. All there.

Next: House of Prayer No. 2: A Writer's Journey Home, memoir by Mark Richard, an author who, simply speaking, needs to be read. The POV is second person, which could be intensely annoying. Instead, it’s amazing. Here I’ll quote Padgett Powell, “If Mark Richard could not write, you could not read this. Since he can, you can’t not read it. It is unreal, and Mr. Richard has the wit to make it real.”

Also, thanks to fellow blogger/friend Trina, I have received the belated memo on Montana poetry prof Karen Volkman. Right now, though, I’m so obsessed with “Infernal,” I can’t move on to the rest of Crash’s Law, never mind progress onward to the other two books. Poetry for me seems to work like music. I tend to focus on a particular song and turn it inside out. This will take time.

Now I’m swamped in Swamplandia! by Karen Russell. I have yet to tire of exclamation point! And that might be the summer. Because I’m also reading all about How to Promote Your Book in preparation for MY book. And I’m planning for my fall class, which means reading with my students in mind. Not the same. But I still might sneak in a murder mystery.

P is for Publication!

2011-08-02T09:45:00.001-07:00

I'm ten years in the writing game now. Admittedly, I entered my MFA with a goal: Be Famous. The naivete sustained me and I have no regrets. I plunged and emerged a better writer.

Although initially wanting in the fiction program, I (confession) applied in nonfiction because the then-director told it was less competitive. I figured once I was there I could do both, which—with finagling and taking two workshops for three out of four semesters—I did. My nonfiction was also more developed at the time (I'd worked in journalism and had publications). I knew that my NF was the stronger writing sample, and looking back at the fiction I had then, chances of my acceptance against all these BFAs with at least one polished story was slim.

One aspect I have discovered I don't care for, as I extend my stay in the academic writing world with a PhD, is genre pidgeonholing. This was why I dropped out of a Lit MA fifteen years ago. I didn't want to spend the rest of my life writing critical articles on Jungian analysis and feminist criticism of Eudora Welty for ten other people in my field. Again, I applied in nonfiction because I had a developed book project. I knew that genre was my strongest writing sample/application. So, my "label" is nonfiction writer.

To be clear, I'm not writing nonfiction to get in programs. I love nonfiction. I have a nonfiction book coming out, and believe me, if I didn't love writing about Laura Ingalls Wilder and researching the 19th century and writing memoir, I could never have finished.

But I have missed writing fiction. I recently entered and won a fiction writing contest for the Ohio Lit Fest, and people came up to me, wondering if the were going to "lose" me, which makes no sense. Maybe, for my academic job, a particular focus is best. Although Montana just hired David Gates, for fiction/nonfiction. So maybe not.

On the other hand, sometimes it's admittedly annoying when people publish in all three genres. Like, make up your mind already. And often, you can tell when an author has a particular strength. Well-known authors, especially, can get their perhaps-not-best-material published in a lit mag because of their name.

Oh well, I just published a poem anyway. What? Although I might like my bio better than the actual poem.

It's Out! It's Out! My New Baby Chapbook!

2011-07-18T12:14:00.000-07:00

I am positively giddy to announce that my very first chapbook, "Great America," is available from Dancing Girl Press!

It's an honor to be in the company of fellow dancing girls Carol Guess, Kristi Maxwell, and Lindsay Bland!

Greta Wrolstad's Notes on Sea & Shore...

2011-07-08T15:01:00.000-07:00

...is out from Tavern Books.

Post-MFA Jobs! Online Teaching

2011-06-29T09:21:00.000-07:00

After graduating from Montana in 2008, I took a job the University of Phoenix, College of Axia, teaching basic writing classes. I’ve had various friends ask me about online teaching. So here’s a post about it. I’m happy to share my experience, but, remember, I am no expert. This is just one woman’s journey at one university.

Here goes.

Generally speaking, online instruction seems to be a huge trend, simply because it’s so cost effective (no buildings, no tenure track profs to pay, etc). It’s also convenient for students who aren’t in school for the “college experience” (Read: Jager Bombs). Many students are single moms, people with families/full-time jobs or soldiers abroad. A nice break, in many ways, I will say, from the whinging entitlement U kid.

Online is nice for us writers who need a flex job that we can do when we like. If I want to monitor the discussion board or grade a few assignments, at 2 am, or 8 am, or from my iPhone (if I had an iPhone) while in a traffic jam, or in my jammies, I can. I don’t have to dress up in “teacher clothes,” drive anywhere, struggle for parking, prepare lectures, or really, cultivate the same level of relationship I do with “live” students. Which saves a ton of time.

Online pays more than adjuncting. (Of course, what doesn’t?) Obviously, pay varies according to the institution, and your efficiency level (or if you actually put time into teaching versus phoning it in). UOP pays about $1750 per nine week class before taxes. (These pay rates can vary. Don’t quote me!)

There can be weirdness working for “McUniversity,” (Emoticons! Exclamation points! Motivating emails!) which has been criticized for abusing student loans for profit, i.e. students who mostly likely don’t have a real chance at graduation. The idea that “everyone” deserves a degree is nice, but doesn’t always work. I admit, that many students could barely construct sentences is really a tenth grade level English class. But as always, there’s those special students who surprise you.

Note: at McUniversity, the syllabus and all procedures are decided for you. You can tweak. But not much.

Also note: the trainings, etc. can take a while. So don’t expect to apply and be at work right away. I was hired in May, didn’t get my first paid class until October. But that was UOP.

And, finally, be forewarned that you remain, essentially, an adjunct with all the non-rights and non-benefits thereof.

You might like to know: How do you get these jobs?

Basically you search the University of Phoenix website until you fine where they list job postings and stalk it until they need English instructors. And UOP is not the only option. I’ve known people who taught at Kaplan or American Military University or other places. I have no idea how they got these jobs. I have no idea what they pay. There might be tenure track online jobs. There might be incredibly high paying jobs. If anyone knows more than me, or has tips, feel free to comment.

My guess is that if you just keep researching human resource departments of schools, or keep refreshing highered.com as jobs will crop up. From there, well, it’s a job.

On Introductions and Mustaches

2011-06-26T09:41:00.000-07:00

I teach nonfiction workshop here at OU and I was (uh, this was back in May) telling my students about how they needed come see Tobias Wolff read at our Lit Fest, because—well—they needed to come see Tobias Wolff, when one student turned to me and asked the dreaded question—

“Why?”

To be fair this question was asked in all sincerity by one of my top students. He was not asking in the sense of why I gotta see Tobias Wolff but in the spirit of a genuine desire to know. And so I wanted to give the inspirational Dead Poet’s Society response his question deserved. I grasped for all the words in the universe—

And answered: blahbalhblahbubbblahbalhblahbubbblahbalhblahbubbblahbalhblahbubbblahbalhblahbubbblahbalhblahbubbb

It turned out, that I was on call to introduce the very Tobias Wolff for Lit Fest, and, with the permission of my student (although I did change the name for this blog post), was inspired to write this introduction below.

As a grad student, or as an instructor, or (ideally) as a famous writer, you might be summoned to perform an introduction. So here’s my sample, for what it’s worth. Also, hey, this might inspire your summer reading list.

The Top Ten Reasons Why You, Jarod Schulzendorfer, Should Be Here Right Now Listening to Tobias Wolff

10) Tobias Wolff is one of America’s great short story writers, having penned such anthologized classics as “Bullet in the Brain “In The Garden of the North American Martyrs,” “Soldier’s Joy,” among others

9) His novella The Barracks Thief won the PEN/Faulkner Award for 1985 And was selected this year by David Sedaris as his recommending reading for his spring tour.

8) Wolff is not only a fiction writer, but a pioneer in the field of memoir, applying techniques of storytelling to nonfiction. In 1989 he helped transform the genre by having Chapter One of his memoir This Boy’s Life by opening with a semi truck careening over a ledge.

7) In addition to This Boy’s Life, the story of his childhood, Wolff wrote the memoir In Pharaoh's Army which records his U.S. Army tour of duty in Vietnam.

6) Wolff is an award-winning teacher, having worked for such universities as Stanford and Syracuse where he has mentored writers we love such as George Saunders and Mary Karr.

5) This Boy's Life became a feature film, which starred Leonardo DiCaprio, as a young Toby.

4) Jarod Schulzendorfer, in case you “wondering about how you are doing in the class,” you are doing just fine. Any student that emails me before spring break about what he should read automatically begins the class with an “A.”

3) As a teenager the author completely fabricated all his applications to exclusive prep schools, from writing his own letters of recommendation, to forging transcripts, to inventing a swim team for his high school and changing his name to Tobias Jonathan von Ansell-Wolff, III.

2) HE GOT IN.

And…number ONE, the top reason, Jarod Schulzendorfer, why you should be here—and I apologize for ending on this—

Sweet mustache.

To which Mr. Wolff replied, “You don’t ever have to apologize for complimenting my mustache.”

BookBookBookBookBookBookBookBookBookBookBook

2011-06-12T19:27:00.000-07:00

Before I left Missoula in 2008, I stood on Higgins Bridge, shook my fist at the churning Clark Fork River, and with all the melodrama of Scarlet O’ Hara, swore that I’d be back, and with a published book. That’s right, a BOOK. With a shiny cover. And chapters. And an acknowledgements page.

And so, after three years of flaming meteors and alien invasions and giant poison spitting toads and who knows what else (who said writing a book was easy?), I shall make my Great Return to Missoula at the Montana Festival of the Book this fall. I don’t know yet if I’ll be reading at Fact and Fiction, or at the Wilma, or perhaps standing on the M for an audience of puckerbrush and ponderosa pines. But I will be reading.

My BOOK.

I began My Life as Laura at the beginning of my MFA in 2006. I had no idea what writing a book meant, beyond subjecting my fellow workshoppers to half-cocked drafts. (Flashback: sudden memory of an early chapter that included a certain “Kraft Macaroni n’ Cheese Incident,” in which orange noodles gave me the ability the ability to channel Laura Ingalls Wilder.)

Uh, that did not make the final cut.

I’ll be launching an author website soon (Does “book” mean I’m no longer a “writer” but an “author” now? One can hope). In the meantime, I look forward to the time when I can see the people who saw the pages in humbler, more orange forms.

The Western Literature Association Conference will be that same weekend. Also, a good thing.

Goings on in Seattle: Elizabeth Colen reads at Ravenna Third Place Books

2011-06-03T14:31:00.000-07:00

...and I get to be the opening act! Elizabeth will be reading from her chapbook "Dear Mother Monster, Dear Daughter Mistake," which is featured in the new collection They Could No Longer Contain Themselves (Rose Metal Press 2011). I will read from my manuscript "Wreck Idyll," forthcoming from Dancing Girl Press in 2012.

Tonight. 7 p.m. Ravenna Third Place Books.

Hearts to Bossypants

2011-05-25T10:48:00.000-07:00

After each quarter I need a decompress book. By this I mean a book that would never be taught in an English Literature class, yet smart so it keeps my interest.

Enter Bossypants by Tina Fey.

I knew that Fey would be funny but what I didn’t expect, was her insight into the career of a woman writer. Granted, she has worked in comedy—a tough field—but I felt much applied to me.

Fey details her climb through the comedy ranks. How when she began at Second City the famous improv company assigned 4 men and 2 women per group. The rationale was that there wouldn’t be enough parts for women. Fey (I gather, repeatedly) countered, how could this be so when this was an IMPROV group? Even in the 90s, a man in drag might get the part over an actual women. She was told no one would ever want to see a sketch involving two women, and details how the hilarious “Kotex Classic” SNL parody ad was almost nixed because the men had no idea what the women were talking about.

Fey also reveals the process of comedy writing, going through various 30 Rock episodes and how they came together, attributing various MVP lines to the writers. I have say, my lonely world of literary prose seems pretty dull.

And yes, she tells the story of how she came to do her first Sarah Palin impersonation on SNL, the (in my mind now iconic) skit where Fey as Palin and Sarah Poehler as Clinton share the podium to decry sexism on the campaign. (I can see Alaska from my house!) Even juicier is that she publishes a copy of the sketch—along with the penciled in revisions. Writer geek heaven!.

This is all fun stuff. But why we love Fey, is because she's not afraid to write, “That night’s show was watched by ten million people, and I guess that director at The Second City who said the audience ‘didn’t want to see a sketch with two women’ can go shit his hat.”

Workshops and Draft Purgatory

2011-04-30T12:41:00.000-07:00

This quarter I tallied my total number of workshops, including my MFA. Total count: seventeen. Granted, I am a shopmonger. I have taken nonfiction, fiction and poetry. I have taken multiple shops at one time. I love dissecting how works–in-progress are/aren’t working. I appreciate how shop drives me to produce. I love the whiskey bar post shop decompress.

The downside of workshop is that you have to endure being workshopped. Of course, the point is to break everything down. That’s how everyone learns. I have even felt nostalgia for past shops where I was vivisected, but that was later, because I turned in something better. The shop story worked towards a happy ending. But over time this story's power has dwindled.

Time presents a new workshop problem: I generally know what everyone is going to say before they say it. What I hear over and over is that my voice engages but my structure has problems, and/or that my piece needs more weight. Here begins the heartbreak of writing—just because you are aware of your writing Waterloos doesn’t mean you know how to avoid them. Or revise them.

My goal for the next few weeks is to sort through the wreckage of five years (gah!) of drafts. Admittedly, much of this did go towards a book on Laura Ingalls Wilder, which will come out with Press 53 this fall. Completion! (I’ll be writing more in this later and—locusts willing—launch a website this summer). But I also have essays, memoirs, stories, flash fiction, aborted first novel chapters and now poetry sitting in desktop purgatory. So that’s my goal in the upcoming weeks. To attend to these lost souls. See what can be saved. What gets put in the DNR file.

On Author Websites

2011-04-17T11:22:00.000-07:00

Read any “must” list for writers and you will be told to have an author website. These freelancers earning $350 dollars for their Writer’s Digest articles will tell you to get one now, but my personal feeling is there isn’t much of a point until you have a book.

I had a website when I first started writing eight years or so ago, built around a former column of mine I wrote called “Charm School Reject.” The idea was that my hilarious postings would get me one of those blog to book deals. Uh, no. I couldn’t ever tap into a focus like Stuff White People Like or Julie and Julia. And as it turns out all I needed was a blog, not a website.

After a year or so I found I couldn’t keep the site up. My writing persona evolved and I couldn’t afford to have the look updated. The once snazzy site took on a patina of dust and disuse, so I let the domain name expire. Now that I’m researching author websites, I find I’m not alone. Many author websites are bedraggled, neglected, non-existent and/or amateur. Money isn’t the only obstacle. Elizabeth Gilbert’s site looks thrown together. You’d think with the movie deal and Oprah press she could do better than cartoon yellow backdrop and Comic Sans. Stephanie Meyer’s site is also surprisingly amateur. If you didn’t know that Twilight was a phenomenon you’d think she was working on the sequel to the Unibomber Manifesto.

Stephen King’s site is pretty snazzy. Although perhaps a bit too much so. I suppose I have a peeve against any site that makes me wait for it to load. Same for Margaret Atwood. I seem to remember preferring her simpler, older site that let you click on an interactive desk. I wonder if a writer really needs a site sporting 5 or 6 menu bars with pull down windows.

Moving on to more literary types, Joy Williams, Lorrie Moore or Amy Hempel don’t seem to even have websites. George Saunders has one that's hanging in there, but isn't to my mind worthy of the writer. Michael Chabon and Dave Eggers are branded by amazing graphic design, so I checked them out. Chabon has this artsy eight-track image with print too small to read. Wha? His events page was empty. If Chabon can’t maintain an events page, then the rest of us are fracked. Eggers has a bio page that splinters off McSweeney’s. The ubiquitous and seemingly indefatigable Steve Almond has one of the better sites. I would follow his lead if reading his publication history didn’t exhaust me so much.

I tried tooling around on iWeb, and the site wasn’t looking too bad, but reached an impasse on the blog format, which I didn’t like and couldn’t change. From my earlier post on Steven Rinella, I wound up looking up his website, which struck me as having the right balance of visual interest and clarity. So I wound up contacting his designer, Dave McKay, from Missoula who turns out to be a friend of a mutual friend. Despite my poorling status, I’m going to pay for a website, because maybe Elizabeth Gilbert is satiated, spiritually connected and loved, but I don’t have the self-esteem to have Google turn up a less than professional site with my name splashed across the top.

Goings-On About Town: Seattle Edition

2011-04-07T10:41:00.001-07:00

It's Small Press Festival time in Seattle! What better way to celebrate National Poetry Month? I'll be hitting Recto Verso: A Small Press Expo on Saturday. And by "hitting" I mean standing awkwardly in a corner with a drink, shivering and praying no one talks to me. And purchasing some rad books.

On Wanting To Be the Girl With the Most Cake

2011-04-06T10:25:00.000-07:00

Sugar, advice columnist for The Rumpus, fielded a question from a writer who finds herself unable to be happy for a friend’s authorial success. Sugar deals some straight talk about these issues, beginning with the idea that “We are all savages inside. We all want to be the chosen, the beloved, the esteemed. There isn’t a person reading this who hasn’t at one point or another had that why not me? voice pop into the interior mix when something good has happened to someone else.”

Jealousy was a terrible, terrible problem for me for a long time. At Montana emails were sent around congratulating people when they had a publication. All I could feel was a stab in the chest.

Montana (for me) wasn’t a program that pitted writers against one another, which isn’t to say there wasn’t a bit of wrestling with the sharks. Some of this jealousy and competition was good. A little burr in the saddle can work as motivation. If I bombed in workshop it made me work harder. If someone-not-me wrote an amazing story or essay then I was determined to outdo them. If there was a award I wanted it. If there was I contest I was scrambling for the gold medal.

Where jealousy became a problem, was when I couldn’t be glad for my fellow classmates and friends. Just like the woman who wrote Sugar, I wanted to be glad but really I was a hot mess inside. Why not me? Of course, I hid my pettiness the best I could but in truth I felt sorry for myself and lack of success.

A few weeks ago a friend of mine here got in the PhD at Utah with full funding, and what I realized was that I was so genuinely glad for her. I actually squealed in delight. That I was able to feel so happy for someone else’s success felt so, so good. A relief. Something shifted in me. I was like the Grinch whose heart grew two sizes that day.

So what happened? I admit my short story acceptance to The Gettysburg Review was like lancing a giant boil. I knew now that I wasn’t a joke. I also finished my book (more on this later). I haven’t made the NYT best seller list and my publication list remains rather middling, yet something changed where I no longer felt as though I wanted to be a writer, but I was a writer.

I have let go a great deal, too. I can’t control or worry about what other writers are doing. Worrying about that shit will drive you crazy. And the more I get in this writing life, the more that I see that it’s freaking hard even for the people we see as being so successful.

Which isn't to say I'm completely free of the twinge now and again. And as I write this, I’m thinking I miss some of the fiery, pre-Prozac me. I might froth up a little bit of that competitive spirit up again. Because while I am glad to be glad for my friends, it doesn’t hurt to want to kick ass now and again.

Funded v. Not Funded at Montana

2011-04-02T09:24:00.000-07:00

Anonymous writes:

Does tiered funding create a problem in the workshops? Various handbooks and popular blogs out there say it does. The "advice" tells prospective students that it creates a situation which negatively influences the dynamic in the workshop. (Like a war between the "haves" and the "have-nots."The "advice" tells students to attend only if funding is offered. Can you and others weigh in on this? Obviously, I know from your comments that you were funded, but how were the experiences and opportunities of unfunded candidates? Do they come into the program with the stigma by other students and staff that their talents are less?

I admit when I discovered that I was the only funded person in nonfiction (out of five admits), I felt like pretty hot shit. I was chosen, special, the Star-bellied Sneetch. I had this idea that Judy Blunt had wielded my application like Excalibur from the stone. And sure, those first few weeks that I arrived in Montana were kind of nice. I was the “funded one.”

But after the initial thrill, the only difference became that 1) I was paid 9K a year and 2) I had to teach Fresh Comp. Once everyone began submitting their writing into workshop I had to admit that I was no better than anyone else. Everyone was super talented. There was absolutely no qualitative difference between the “funded” and the “unfunded.” None.

So far as how people were treated in workshop, I don’t think the faculty even remembered who was funded. I know that they hate not being able to offer funding to everyone. Basically every year the faculty sit down with a pile of apps, come up with who they would like to work with, and then make some very tough decisions. Dee and Kevin have told me that sometimes the final cuts feel very much like a coin toss.

Experienced writers know that it’s impossible to predict the career of a beginning writer. Think about it. What is there to know from a lone MFA writing sample? Once in a while there’s a Karen Russell or Lorrie Moore. But most of us dog it out for years before we write publishable work. Kevin said to me over again that while talent is nice, it’s the work ethic and determination that’s wins out in the end.

Of course, lack of funding has its problems. There’s the obvi, money. Those without TAs don’t get the teaching experience, and everyone teaching meets that first week of TA camp. There's nothing like the common enemy of pedagogical discourse to promote bonding. When I was at Montana, only TAs had an office. Finally, there’s the trickier and ickier idea of feeling less “wanted,” although I as I’ve said above, I don’t believe this is true. At least not at Montana.

On the plus side, not having to teach comp frees up time to write. Freshman Comp is time suck, an energy suck and a suck/suck. Slogging through twenty papers on the death penalty wears a writing soul down. I noticed that the unfunded writers often kicked more ass. They published more during the program. They took on outside jobs that were more interesting. And who knows? Maybe feeling like an underdog served as a motivation.

The Three Ps Advice Center

2011-03-31T10:20:00.000-07:00

Hello Kelly:

My very close friend has been recently accepted into the Montana MFA program and I am so excited for him.

At the same time, I am worried about the prospects of relocating (from the east coast) and the prospects of finding jobs both during and after the program. Can you discuss your experiences?

Dear Worried,

Those of us who teach Freshman Comp know that the argument from authority is an argumentative fallacy, but for what it’s worth, here’s my story:

My life is divided by 1) before Montana 2) after Montana. I made friends I will keep forever, my writing transformed, and I lived in one of the most amazing places in the world. Montana is the place I learned I could be a writer when I grow up, a question that had haunted me my entire life.

Moving across the country was a pain in the ass. Of course. But I applied to programs out west on purpose. I WANTED to see the other half of the country. I live in Ohio now, and I’m still homesick for the jaw dropping, slap-you-up-the-face beauty of Montana. Probably a part of me will be forever scheming a way back there.

Re: jobs. Missoula isn’t exactly a captain of industry. But people do find work. Retail. Admin jobs. For me, a teaching assistantship was crucial, but that didn’t pay for the summer. I freelanced some. I landscaped. Even so, I emerged with about 5K of student loan debt. Then again, I wanted to do things. I took trips to Seattle, Glacier National Park etc. I treated myself to espresso drinks when I felt like it and drank call brand liquor.

I knew many people who didn’t have assistantships. Some of them had parents who helped them out. Some emerged with 40K of debt. Some worked out deals where they went for three years and finagled in-state tuition. The words “money” and “afford” are so subjective they are difficult to measure. I do know that those paying felt a great deal more strain. (I welcome comments from anyone following this blog on this situation below).

The MFA is not a career gateway. The year after transition was pretty rough on most of us. (Hence: this blog). But I don’t think the MFA is the total dead end everyone claims either. There are Montana MFAs with book deals and tenure track jobs. A few. A higher percentage of us have landed jobs that involve writing and/or teaching in some form or another.

The bottom line is I went to Montana to write. I did write. I am writing. And my writing life would not be the same if I hadn’t taken that risk.

To Tweet or Nor To Tweet

2011-03-28T09:31:00.000-07:00

Montana grad Aryn Kyle recently began a blog, and writes in her first post:

When I think about all the tweeting and blogging and skyping we’re expected to do, I can’t help feeling slightly jealous of those writers of yore, the ones who lived in plague-infested squalor and worked by candlelight and died of tuberculosis before the age of thirty-five.

Exactly. I have had an on again/off again affair with blogging, and facebook updates, and I’ve resisted “Tweeting,” although now that I have a book coming out I feel the pressure to promote any way possible. I know that hiding behind the “I’m the sensitive/socially phobic writer type” excuse isn’t going to do me any favors. I need to suck it up. If don’t sell my book, nobody else is.

But isn’t it all so—exhausting. Online once I found George Saunders started to blog but after about five entries the posts grow shorter and more lackluster. (I couldn't find the blog today to provide a link). He begins in charming, honest Saunders style admitting his newness to blogging, but you can see he just couldn't attach a real purpose to it. Even a writer as good as Saunders quickly discovered how much work it takes to write even an average post. None of us got into this to be average. Our dream was to be poets and nonfictionistas and to pen great novels, not "maintain" a blog. But to keep a blog up, and post regularly, there will be filler.

The very thought of adding Twitter to my promotional list makes me want a nap. Celebrities can post about burnt toast or btichin’ parties or socks because they are famous. But I’m going to have to sweat out clever aphorisms like an Oscar Wilde machine.

And shouldn’t I be working on my “real” writing? And is all this social networking really doing anything? Often this all feels like posting into the void.

I don’t know. I suspect that the only way I’ll survive all this is by finding a way to make it fun. Because I can vouch that when social networking feels like a chore, I won’t do it.

But posting to the blog is much better than working on my syllabus for tomorrow. Uh, which is what I should be doing.

Montana Grad Spotlight: Steven Rinella

2011-03-22T08:41:00.000-07:00

I could say my decision to apply to Montana was random, but I prefer to say I was following my instinct. I was Googling various states (Texas, Wyoming, South Carolina) paired with the words “creative writing MFA” and found the purple website with the cartoon grizzly bear. (The website has, sadly, since been updated to a sophisticated aesthetic). A little more research revealed that Montana was an older program (I liked the idea of a writing tradition) and a top program (I like success). The idea of moving West, far away from the South, also appealed.

Yet another motivation was Steven Rinella’s The Scavenger’s Guide to Haute Cuisine. The book is centered around his year-long quest to hunt and fish for the necessary ingredients to prepare a 3-day, 45-course feast from French master chef Auguste Escoffier's Le Guide Culinaire. (It was Montana professor Dee McNamer that put Rinella in touch with the 19^th century cookbook). En route Rinella acquires such exotic makings as an antelope's bladder, a stingray, eel, and the smoked ham from a black bear. I read the book and know that this brand of researched quest represented the nonfiction I wanted write. I suppose I knew my career as a lyrical essayist wasn’t going to work. And this was before I’d even heard of the lyrical essay.

I’ve been rereading the book over break and find it just as engaging. No, I don’t care to fish for ling cod in a tippy canoe off a remote Pacific Northwest island. But it’s fun to read about. This time around I realize that the vegetarian girlfriend character in the book is another Montana MFA, Diana Spechler, whose book Who By Fire I have also read. And this time the scenes that take place in Missoula (for instance, gathering pigeon eggs off the Higgins Street Bridge) make my heart ping. I have since seen elk carcasses piled up in the backs of trucks and can personally vouch as to the tastiness of the meat.

Rinella now has a television show on the Travel Channel, which might make him the most successful Montana MFA so far. “The Wild Within” one-ups Anthony Bourdain’s “No Reservations” in that Rinella goes into the wilderness, kills and skins the exotic cuisine he eats with relish.

I didn’t know this when I applied, but while Rinella was at Montana the program didn’t have an official nonfiction program. There was poetry and “prose.” I’m not sure what I have to say about this observation, exactly, other than it leads me to wonder about this recent addition of nonfiction to creative writing programs. I mean, didn’t nonfiction exist all along? What’s the big revelation? But that, I suppose, is best saved for another post.

Notes From The Annual Writers Conference

2011-03-16T08:56:00.000-07:00

I found my one, lone page of notes from AWP in the dryer this morning. I know that was over a month ago. The notes were on a panel on dealing with difficult students in the nonfiction writing workshop.

Here’s what I wrote:

How to workshop the TMI piece: 1) be specific 2) be honest 3) help writers clarify their own ideas

Running a writers’ workshop is like running a kindergarten. You deal with the same players: 1) the star 2) the resenter 3) the diva 4) the tattler.

When dealing with a diva (who will constantly interrupt the workshop), diffuse by asking: “What would you like to accomplish in this piece?”

Sometimes people use memoir as a way of processing their feelings. This can get weird. One way to ease the discomfort of workshopping true story is to treat the nonfiction protagonist the same as a fiction one. Ask: 1) What does the character want? 2) What stands in her way? 3) What’s at stake if she doesn’t get what she wants?

And that’s it. Nice, right? All manner of respected literary giants around and I spend four days stuffing my face with every variety of ethnic food I could find. My excuse is that I live in a small town built on subs, gringo burritos and pizza. I crave spice.

Female Poets Shill Clothes for Oprah

2011-03-10T09:32:00.000-08:00

I hate this: http://www.oprah.com/style/Spring-Fashion-Modeled-by-Rising-Young-Poets

For so many reasons. It's hard to keep them straight in my head. I hate the implication that a female poet has to be a clothes horse in order to get any attention, and that her poetry here is incidental to the business of selling clothes that most of the poets I know could never afford. I wonder what happened after the shoot was over? It's kind of fun to imagine Oprah herself approaching the poet-models, cackling wildly, and ripping the designer duds right off their backs.

Inevitably, though, the rage returns. And I have to ask myself Why? Why does it matter if these women chose to accept an opportunity for some exposure to audiences their work might not have otherwise reached? This is an impulse post, so I haven't really fully considered all of the angles, but I think it comes down to the commodification of it all. Like this $300 Ralph Lauren vest? You'll love poetry by Sarah Herrington!

Then again, maybe I'm just jealous. Maybe this is tapping into my baggage about pretty girls always getting all the attention. It's true, I'd love to model this old Gap t-shirt for you, with all its implications about my lifestyle and artistic talent, especially if it means you'll read my manuscript. What, you're sending the photographers right over? Great! I'll go wash my face.

The Creative Writing PhD and the Job Market

2011-01-24T07:28:00.000-08:00

At Ohio University we had a professional development meeting recently and I asked the panel (CW, lit and rhet-comp profs who had all sat on various hiring committees) if the CW Phd was, truthfully, any kind of factor on the university job market.

The first answer was that schools such as Iowa or Michigan only hire writers with an established presence. "A book" isn't enough, and the PhD isn't the criteria either. That NYU hired Jonathan Safran Foer, who doesn't even have an MFA, comes to mind.

But---if the goal is a job at a smaller, liberal arts school then a PhD is a plus, because it gives you flexibility in teaching. (And yes, the CW PhD counts here). OU has placed people in this kind of tenure track job. It was also noted that if quality of life is a consideration, a smaller school might be a happier landing than a shark tank program.

Interesting to me, was how the three English Department fields have different criteria for an attractive resume.

For Rhet-Comp, teaching is critical, and demonstrated ability of administrative experience (by this I mean running a conference, not typing and filing. Althooooo. How else does one run a conference?)

For Lit, an established presence as a scholar is the thing. Too many committees, etc. might even count against an applicant, because he/she might be seen as not being serious about their research.

For us, the ability to help out with the lit mag or run the reading series makes everyone perk up. Because nobody wants to do this stuff. Grant writing ability is also a plus. Because writers never have any money.

The final tip was that grads who want a university job can’t leave the ivory tower. Not after the PhD. Grads have to adjunct or post-doc or whatever to remain in the pool.

Except the rules are always different in the arts, because there aren’t rules. Write a best-selling book that’s also a critical darling---and that NYU gig is yours. And who wouldn't rather be the sexy hire than the paper slave?

Things around The Office are awkward

2011-01-07T15:24:00.000-08:00

First, I have an admission. Admonish me if you will, but my husband and I recently bought a television. A 20somethig inch plasma HD flat screen DVD thingie that also shoots fireworks from its butt. This television is pretty glorious, beating out the old standby we used for the past 2+ years of laptop dragged over to the coffee table with auxiliary computer speakers to blast the sweet sounds of Jersey Shores: Season 1 on DVD.Oh, oops, I meant to say Ken Burns Presents The Civil War on DVD.

That totally explains why I never post to this blog.

I was on the no-television wagon for a couple of years and thought I was finding my real purpose in life in an existential sense—I was one of those I Don’t Need A Television folks!—for surely I could find satisfying amusement in knitting, mounting wall racks or lacquering an upcycled porch swing. Then I fell off that wagon. Not hard or particularly jarring, the falling. But now my television keeps me from helping starving orphans. And my dog is getting a little bit fatter.

And there is a lot of crap on television. And I hate every glassy eyed moment spent watching Million Dollar Money Drop. But I do it anyway. So here we get around to Thursday nights. The Office is on NBC in prime time perpetuity.

I don’t think I’ve seen an episode since we gorged ourselves on The Season Where Pam and Jim Get Married at the End. Around this time, I was working in a cold office under a bridge at a Big Ten University dying for some human interaction that didn’t involve hashing out the intricacies of OMB Circulars as they relate to institutional funding. (No really, it’s a riot. You should check it out. ) And when I was doing that during the day, it’s own kind of cubicle-related typical desk job, I was honestly in hysterics with the show. Loved it!

Now that I’ve been in a new position—as a certified writer! Okay, so “content producer”, but that, in large part, actually means I write things from scratch and edit it and get feedback from others—at an e-learning company for a couple of months now, I was ready to embrace the show again. It was time. I still sit at a desk. At a desk job. In a non-academia setting. This is a perfect! I’ll love The Office, because I’ll learn valuable skills about being endearingly charming when I meet someone over at the copier at my company. I can replicate something that one of the people on the show did! It’ll be great.

Instead I just squirm through the 22 minutes. It feels so awful to see the characters roboting around inside the little windowless, wall less space. Communicable disease! Awkward personal relationships exposed! Boss says something to make the company look bad! You just asked the secretary to do some menial task you were too lazy to do! You’re lying about that sick day! You can’t download that on a work computer!

Does this mean I like my new job?! As in truly satisfied with the way things are turning out? Could it be?!

Is like for The Office the perfect inverse of like for the office?

On Solicited Submissions

2011-01-06T12:47:00.000-08:00

One benefit of the MFA followed by the PhD, is that I am slowly but surely amassing contacts. AWP is now an event where I can meet up with old friends, who, theoretically, should all one day be directing programs and will naturally want their old crony, me, as the visiting writer. Well, maybe someday.

I did experience a little brush with schmooze payoff recently when I received the call for my first (insert coronet herald here) solicited submission from a friend who is fiction editor at a lit mag. Finally, a bit of nepotism working in my favor. Of course, when I was first starting out the idea of solicited subs appalled. But when I read for Cutbank I learned how hard it is to find work you are actually excited about. I was nonfiction editor for a year and never came across one publishable piece (aside from the contest we held). I see that the essays in the latest issue are by Montana luminaries William Kittredge and Judy Blunt.

Anyway, I sent a story I wrote while at Montana, my first story that got “the nod” from workshop, and was nominated by the faculty for Best New American Voices. Given this stamp of approval, it seemed to me some lit mag somewhere should take this story. To date I had sent this story out to 12 places. Granted, one of these rejections was from The Atlantic Monthly (among other luminaries). I had received two “almosts” as well. But as we all know “almost” is simply “no” with a “thanks” tacked on.

Then I was ASKED about this story (in particular). Dee McNamer at Montana used to call getting a finished piece published “finding it a home.” While much my work goes in the RIP file on my desktop, I also keep a file of those stories I believe deserve adoption. This poor, orphaned story had languished in a folder surrounded by twenty other versions of itself for two years.

Now, “solicited” does not mean “guaranteed publication,” although I suppose this changes from mag to mag, and depends on the writer. A new J.D. Salinger story I’m guessing = automatic yes. At NOR, solicitation does not guarantee publication. I happen to know that the editors have asked colleagues for work only to find themselves in the awkward situation of turning it down. This, apparently, has created some major AWP dagger eyes moments. Imagine fancying yourself an “established” writer only to be told 1) your work didn’t cut it and (worse) 2) you aren’t famous enough that someone would publish it anyway.

As a newbie I didn’t have huge expectations. But I hoped. So I sent off my story that has a baseline narrative about a young woman who struggles with a possible pregnancy juxtaposed by a quirky, wordplay thru line, only to find out that the editor had just accepted a story that has a baseline narrative about a young woman who struggles with a possible pregnancy juxtaposed by a quirky, wordplay thru line. Scooped.

On Visiting Writers

2010-12-31T10:59:00.000-08:00

When I applied to Montana, one of the lures was I saw writer crush Aimee Bender on the schedule as a visiting writer. O palpitating heart! What’s more, Bender lived up to the dream. She was funny and smart and conducted positive yet insightful workshops. 2007 was the Year of the Rugged Manfictioners, so we women writers followed her around like imprinted goslings.

Since then I’ve met many visiting writers. Robin Hemley, Charles D’Ambrosio, Mary Gaitskill—to name a few. Here at Ohio U, we get to have lunch. At this opportunity, I perk up, for I am great at lunch. I can lunch like a Mad Men exec. I may or may not be able to write, but sandwiches and beverages, I can do.

Then I went to NonfictioNOW. This was a great conference. It was. I met an amazing variety of writers, many well-known, respected people I had heard about. It was all going so well. Then, I was about to introduce myself to a writer I love, who has impacted my life (no kidding), and whose presentation I had purposefully stalked, when I felt a complete and utter hopelessness. (although I can't rule out the Ethiopian food) What was the point? I would say hi. She would say hi. I would make my witty remark. Haha, she would reply. Chit then chat. And scene.

I had hit the visiting writer saturation point.

I kind of blame George Saunders. After him, it’s as though there’s no point in another visiting writer. He gave a great lecture. He gave a great reading. He was personable and put everyone at ease. He does a great lunch. He graciously praised the bio I wrote for our Literary Festival tabloid. He remembered my name. He went out for a beer (but not too many beers) at the local writer’s bar, where he did NOT grope or ogle the doe-eyed ladies who followed him around like imprinted goslings. (Question: Why do men not imprint?)

Then he was gone.

That. Was that.

As MFAers, when we show our work to the visiting writers, we are supposedly in search of feedback. What we are really hoping is that they will weep with joy, curse our genius and race to call their agents. Or at least one might take in interest in us. Or suggest we submit this piece someplace they have an in. It’s not that this never happens, I suppose. But it’s never happened to anyone I know. That I know of.

Because what you realize, is that all these writers are visiting other programs and residencies and whatever else all the time. In other words, they are seeing other people. This is an open relationship. And writers are usually not editors or agents. Rather, they are trying to get their work out there just like us. And that’s their priority. They aren’t talent scouts.

Mostly, I’ve realized that what I learn from visiting writers, is how to be a visiting writer.

Is MFAland Real?

2010-12-25T06:34:00.000-08:00

Oh, how small my little PhD world is, and how little it has to do with the swarm of people I saw stampeding Books-A-Million yesterday, where Twilight coasters lord over experimental flash fiction, lyrical essays and poetry.

Which inspired me to respond (although a bit late) to this article in Slate, which declares “two distinct literary cultures,” that of New York publishing and MFA programs. My first reaction was that the article was another dig at MFAs—those grad school writers can’t hack life in the big city. My second idea was that I could think of writers who were clear counterexamples to the argument.

Last year (for instance), I met Rebecca Skloot, who came to read and talk with our workshop. This was as The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks was blowing up. During lunch she had to excuse herself because Oprah called. THAT’S RIGHT THE BIG O. Skloot has an MFA from Pittsburg, freelanced for glossies, (but also published in lit mags), and was a nonfiction professor at Memphis, before writing the best-selling book. Montana grad Aryn Kyle published short stories in lit mags such as The Georgia Review before writing a book that wound up on the Costco table. Or what writer could be more esoteric, brainy, and MFA-ey than David Shields? Who was on The Colbert Report.

On the flip side, MFAland can get a bit small town. At Montana, you would have thought our workshop was the next turning point in literature the way we acted, even though it was the ten of us sitting around an oak table. You start to assume everyone keeps Alice Munro bedside. My cautionary, is that MFAland can feel so immediate that the larger picture is ignored. Hey MFAers, when’s the last time you read a book off the (current!) NYT bestsellers list? You begin to think that the entire writing world consists entirely of poetry, short stories and lyrical essays. And I've seen where artsy is rewarded over comprehensible to a wider audience.

Which means this post has now devolved into the unsolvable debate of “high” (Wallace Stevens) versus “low” (Twilight coasters) art. Which means maybe it’s time to go open gift-receipted presents and eat Paula Dean French Toast casserole like a normal person.

This one's rumored to be making the rounds among NYC editors and agents

2010-12-21T06:38:00.000-08:00

P is for Publication!

2010-12-19T09:38:00.000-08:00

I review Anthony Bourdain’s Medium Raw for Alimentum here.

For those who don’t know, book reviews are a nice way for an emerging writer to get a few publications. The Unattainable Quarterly might not give your short story the time of day, but they will probably publish your review. (I admit, this CV line might apply more to those of us striving for teaching jobs, than writerly fame.) Anyway, it’s a way to enter the conversation, and if your cover letter looks like West Texas, it’s a publication credit.

It’s also satisfying to be given an assignment, finish it, and then see your byline. All that workshopping can feel like a giant circle. I have stories I’ve been strokin' to the east and strokin' to the west for years now. Years! When editors actually need copy, they give slash and burn feedback to get your piece ready to go. What I’m saying, is that it’s a different experience writing for the express goal of publication, versus writing to write and hoping someone will like it.

Perhaps now you are wondering how you get someone to publish your review. I’ll be honest, mine were hook-ups from professors. So if you are in school or know someone involved with a lit mag, then ask them. I bet a cold query would work, too, though. I would present a few ideas for book reviews (to show you know the publication), and then ask for a suggestion. Chances are the editor has a pile of books stacked on the desk.

On Goals and Writing

2010-12-14T11:05:00.000-08:00

Fellow writer and blogger about writing Ashley Cowger has put a shout out for writers to post about their goals here. This post is basically my comment box that spiraled out of control.

First, may I say be careful what goals you set. For instance, you might be granted all the writing time in the world. Then, there you are in a small Ohioan town during winter break, wandering the empty cobblestone streets, you and Your Book, showdown at high noon, time to shoot except both parties glance and shrug, too filled with ennui to pull the trigger.

When not slogging through my book these past weeks I've been slogging through the celebrated Cheever bio/tome from last year, and I'm struck by how he was continually dissatisfied. For us, a regular appearance in The New Yorker=Big Time Success (over 100 stories!), but Cheever spent age 20 to 42--his ENTIRE youth--bemoaning that he didn't have a novel. Then, when he did publish novels, he fretted that the reviews weren't glowing enough, that John Updike's wife was prettier, etc.

So, my first idea is that we have to guard against this idea of the “enough,” as in, no success is ever enough.

But then we also need goals.

I can see some of my “checklist” completed. (an MFA, publication(s) in a national magazine, a McSweeney’s list, short story acceptance from major journal. I’m in a PhD program and about to finish a book.) And yeah, with each of these accomplishments I squealed. The successes meant I wasn’t just some hack, one of those deluded people who fancy themselves a “writer” but go their entire life writing only for themselves (and sadly, for good reason).

As I check more goals off my list, and as I suffer the inevitable disappointments that come with “getting out there,” (for every goal achieved another dream is dashed) I’ve realized the only goal you can cuddle up with at night is to not suck. I want writers who I respect to look at my work and reflect to themselves, “hey, that doesn’t suck.” Granted, this is a lowered expectation from Great American Novelist status, but I have come to accept that only Nabokov is Nabokov. Good American Novelist remains quite the achievement. I also want, ultimately, for readers to pick up my work for the pleasure of it versus "I should try and get through this."

I have new goals. I want to write a fiction novel geared more for a wider audience than literary raves. My one acceptance to the one literary journal is gathering dust and it’s time to get out there again. I would love to be in a Best American Something. I’ve been attending writers’ conferences lately, and want to spend more time behind the podium than doodling on my program in the audience.

And before I get back to work on my latest big goal (Finish and Publish My Nonfiction Book) I will share my practical, superficial and admittedly supercheesy motivator: I visualize my resume.

Is This the Future of Journalism?

2010-10-28T09:47:00.000-07:00

So this writer over at the Marie Claire blog said some really mean things in her review of Mike & Molly, a new show about two people who meet at an Overeaters Anonymous meeting and fall in love. Within 24 hours, the blogosphere had blown up and the offending piece had made national news. How could a writer be so tone-deaf? How did her entry get past the site's editors?

In the ensuing shitstorm, the writer, Maura Kelly, has issued a half-assed apology and the Marie Claire site has invited other writers to respond to the blog. The end result? Kajillions of hits and free publicity.

Once we have extricated ourselves from the public debate over the "obesity epidemic" in the United States, might we take a moment to acknowledge how this is just another case of stunt blogging, or deliberately taking an indefensible stance so as to drum up a firestorm of controversy and the ensuing commentary/attention for the blog in question and its parent organization?

What's fascinating to me about this case is the egregious nature of Kelly's comments, which are so baldly offensive as to challenge belief. And the writing itself was fairly clumsy for a national magazine's website. Wouldn't such a move, knowing or not, ruin one's professional reputation? Yet I can totally imagine a growing niche of stunt bloggers within marketing departments all over the country, trying to think of nefarious ways to generate interest in their companies' content/product. It reminds me of the recent episode of Mad Men, where Peggy and Pete are struggling to figure out a way to sell Sugarberry Hams, so they decide to stage a fight between two ladies at a local supermarket over the last Sugarberry Ham. Thus the birth of the slogan, "a ham worth fighting for." Easy peasy.

It remains to be seen whether the backlash will affect Marie Claire's bottom line over the long-term after the short-term bump in familiarity has faded. I'm guessing not. Something else will happen to get the public's ire up and they'll forget all about this stunt. Well, all but the names Marie Claire and Maura Kelly. And how they felt strongly about something related to these two names once. And, maybe if they go to the website, they'll be able to remember what the fuss is about.

2010-10-12T06:32:00.001-07:00

George M. Philip, president of SUNY Albany, announced that the French, Italian, classics, Russian and theater programs were getting the axe.

UW Common Book: Poetry?

2010-09-23T09:49:00.000-07:00

The University of Washington, like many universities across the country, has a "Common Book" program that chooses one book a year for all incoming freshman to receive upon arrival and, hopefully, read. This year, for the first time, UW has chosen a book of poetry. Well, "chosen" isn't really the right word. What they've done is develop and publish their own anthology of poems designed to "grab an 18-year-old."

I'm all for encouraging young people to read poetry, but why not an actual, single-author poetry book as they exist in the wild? The article linked above states, "The committee first considered a book by a single poet, but quickly rejected that idea," but does not explain why the idea was quickly rejected. Perhaps the committee could not agree upon a book that, in its entirety, would hold the attention of or feel relatable to a UW freshman. Which begs the question: Does such a book exist? The answer to which, I'm sure the committee believes, is "One does now, and it's called You Are Never Where You Are. And we made it special just for the occasion."

For context, past selections for the UW Common Book include:

Mountains Beyond Mountains: The Quest of Dr. Paul Farmer, a Man Who Would Cure the World by Tracy Kidder (2006)

Field Notes from a Catastrophe: Man, Nature, and Climate Change by Elizabeth Kolbert (2007)

The Devil’s Highway: A True Story by Luis Alberto Urrea (2008)

Dreams from My Father: A Story of Race and Inheritance by Barack Obama (2009)

It is intriguing that all are nonfiction books. Perhaps this is a coincidence. Or maybe one surefire way of relating to 18-year-olds is through stories that actually happened. God forbid anyone should have to suspend disbelief in the quest to enjoy reading.

In any case, I'm not sure I agree with the cherry-picking of poems, or books, to appease a particular audience's perceived preferences. Isn't exposure to unfamiliar and worldview-challenging media one of the great experiences of college life? Do we no longer expect our students to accept and meet the challenge of understanding what is initially foreign as part of that experience? Wouldn't it be great if we could give these students the benefit of the doubt and let them tackle a book of poetry without spoonfeeding it to them?

I recognize the tension between reality (not everyone likes to read; almost no one likes to read poetry) and the ideal (give them a chance to approach a book on its own terms and deal with their reading demons). University administrators want students to read. They also recognize the correlation between enjoyment and continued reading practice. Intellectual rigor falls through the cracks in favor of being encouraging. It's the same old story: dealing with the students you have vs. dealing with the students you want.

But does it work? Do any of these Common Books serve as gateways to a lifelong love of reading? Will the contrived collection of You Are Never Where You Are unlock the world of poetry for anyone? Will it do a better job than, say, Ariel or Lunch Poems? I'll have a better idea when I find out what poems were selected for the collection, I guess.

As a postscript, I wonder how much prevailing poetry reading habits played into the committee's decision to develop its own collection, i.e., the preference for reading and engaging individual poems on their own rather than reading them in the context of an entire single-author collection. This is not a fully formed thought. Just something that occurred to me in time for me to leave off this post and go pick my dad up at the airport.

Thoughts on Professional Courtesy

2010-09-21T10:53:00.000-07:00

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about courtesy. Specifically, professional courtesy. Microscopically, the relative lack of professional courtesy running rampant in independent literary organizations of late. I don’t know whether this is actually a recent development or I’m just noticing it now because I (and a number of writers near and dear to my heart) have been on the receiving end of some bozo behavior.

Maybe you can tell me if any of the following scenarios sound familiar.

1.
Writer A queries the editors of Literary Journal X about the status of her submission, sent over a year before via an online submission manager where said submission has languished as “received.” Writer A receives no response. Over the ensuing months, writer A receives multiple marketing e-mails and calls for submissions from Literary Journal X, but still no response from the editors.

1. a.
Writer B queries the editors of Literary Journal X about the status of his submission, sent a long, long time back, via an online submission manager where said submission has languished as “received.” Writer B receives in response a form rejection e-mail sent through said online submission manager rather than an actual response from an editor.

1. b.
Writers C-ZZ wait patiently for responses regarding their submissions to Literary Journal Z. Postings to Literary Journal Z’s blog apologize for the longer-than-normal delay and assure submitters that responses will be forthcoming. Additional postings on the front page of Literary Journal Z’s submissions manager apologize for glitches. The responses finally arrive: Writer D receives 40 form rejection emails. Writer M receives 9.

2. Two of Writer Q’s poems are accepted by Literary Journal V and she is informed that they will appear in the following year’s issue, she will be paid $XX, and she will receive two contributor’s copies. The year comes and goes with no correspondence from Journal V. Writer Q finds out through the interweb that the issue of Journal V is out and politely queries the editors via e-mail regarding her copies and payment. **Crickets** A month later she receives her contributor’s copies in the mail with no check and no acknowledgement of her previous query. A month or so later, she e-mails the editors again. **More Crickets** A month or so after that, she visits Journal V’s website in an attempt to find some other means of contacting the editors and finds that the website has been revised and contact e-mail address is different. Again, she queries. **Lots of Freaking Crickets** Writer Q does some web sleuthing and finds contact information for the faculty advisor for the journal and contacts said advisor to no avail. It is only after Writer Q has e-mailed the head of the English Department at the University that hosts Journal V that she receives any word from the editors.

3. Writer P sends a submission (via e-mail, per Journal J’s guidelines) at 3:08 p.m. At 3:17 p.m., Writer P receives the following e-mail from Journal J’s editor:

Sorry Writer P--

Not this batch.

Pax,

Editor J
The next day, Editor J attempts to friend Writer P on FaceBook.

As isolated, rare occurrences, these experiences might make amusing anecdotes at literary gatherings. Unfortunately, the reality is that any similar anecdote is likely to be met with, “Oh, that’s nothing. Let me tell you what the punks from Journal/Press/Website L did to me…” Around about the 10th or 20th anecdote, a pattern emerges that is anything but amusing. Of course, we can come up with any number of explanations/justifications for this kind of behavior—“Yeah, well, writers are flaky.” “Aw, they’re probably just overworked grad students. Cut them a break.” “At least they put out a quality magazine.” But where does that leave us?

I’ve worked for literary magazines. I’ve written in this space about how not be an asshole when submitting to literary magazines. As an editor, I’ve dealt with all sorts of crazy writer bullshit. I understand all too well that working on a journal is a thankless job. I also understand that it’s a choice one makes. No one can be forced into litmag slavery. So yes, I am a little perplexed when the literary magazines I support, read, purchase, submit to, etc. don’t have the decency to communicate with me. I am disappointed when the editors of a journal assume that online submission technology absolves them of the responsibility to answer queries.

And yet, writers are asked to be grateful for any attention, any chance at publication. For the most part, I am. And in the grand scheme of my life, whether I hear back from a literary journal or not has very little bearing on my overall happiness. So why complain? I don’t really have an answer to that question. Just an observation: Courtesy is easily given. I think about the times when I was responsible for corresponding with contributors and, whether it was snail mail, e-mail, phone, or face-to-face interaction, the interaction didn’t really cost me that much.

So, I don’t know, maybe we could, as a community, come up with a set of guidelines for being a good editor. Any writer who has received the gold star treatment from a journal that has its shit together certainly must have some ideas on the matter. Thoughts?

The Case Against Tenure

2010-08-13T09:09:00.000-07:00

This might be of interest for those of you pursuing a career in higher ed.

"Tenure—the ability to teach and conduct research without fear of being fired—is still the holy grail of higher education, to which all junior professors aspire. Yet fewer and fewer professors are attaining it. The proportion of full-time college professors with tenure has fallen from 57 percent in 1975 to 31 percent in 2007. The numbers for 2009, soon to be released by the Department of Education, are expected to dip even lower.

To which some educators are saying: good riddance. Tenure is a bad deal not just for universities, which are saddled with its costs, but also for professors, who are constrained by its conventions. Cathy Trower, a researcher at Harvard University who has studied tenure for the last decade, says the current system may actually be scaring talented young people away from academia. "This one-size-fits-all, rigid six-year up-and-out tenure system isn't working well," she says."

For more, go here.

Lindsay Bland, Montana MFA '09

2010-07-23T06:53:00.000-07:00

Mz. Lindsay Bland, poet extraordinaire (and Montana alum!), has a chapbook out with Dancing Girl Press:

Between the Devil and the Deep

Congrats!

Professional Developing Part II

2010-07-16T10:24:00.000-07:00

I presented at Laurapalooza yesterday.

And then I made the cover of the Mankato Free Press. Ha!

But what I wrote the other day about not being nervous? Scratch that.

Professional Developing

2010-07-14T17:08:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow morning I present at my very first conference. I’m on the grown up side of podium! About now I’m grateful for Second Wind, and my thesis reading. Sometimes MFA readings are treated like a vanity exercise. But I’m about to face a room of people tomorrow three hours before I officially wake up. And I don’t even feel *that* nervous. Weird. Whereas my first reading was an exorcism.The entire week beforehand I was a wreck.

I admit one of the reasons I've always wanted to write and teach is the travel. Here I am! At the AmericInn in Mankato, Minnesota. No, it's not France (yet). But if you check out the link above, my interest in the area will become apparent. Besides, for me, a huge double room at a place with a pool paid for by the U counts as vacation. (AND take out Chinese. AND cable).

Right now it feels good to have who I want to be (writer) pay for a trip. People are interested in what I'm doing. Kind of nice after years and years of people caring about the food I brought to their table.

The Anxiety of Influence: A Dog’s Tale

2010-07-07T13:20:00.000-07:00

I co-own a difficult dog. He is our neurotic co-pilot. I worry that I helped morph many of his saner attributes into something no longer sane, all the while trying—with patience and persistence—to quell his interest in barking at humans, pigeons, dogs and plastic bags. I wish I knew his before-us time. Then I could chart his course in the last year and rest assured that our training is doing him some good.

I should first credit Monte with his lovable qualities before I proceed to sully his reputation over the interwebs. He is an amazingly intuitive and courteous dog. He will can jump up to my lap and place his paws on my arm when he senses the twinge of existential despair. He knows what’s up and how to fix it.

Monte will gladly accept visitors into our house, even the dog trainer who came on a house to meet him. He treats our cats with begrudging respect. And he doesn’t pester the 50 gallons of water holding our fish. He won’t tear the window blinds or scratch the hardwood. He squeals in his sleep when he’s dreaming. His brown eyes will make a warm puddle of your heart.

Monte can elevate my blood pressure like nobody’s business. He is very dog reactive. It took us a while to notice this. When we adopted him, all 50 lbs. of his 2+ year old emaciated black lab mix self, we noticed he was a leash puller. He wanted to go, and he was taking us with him. He would, on the other hand, approach other dogs with the curiosity and good intentions—but elevated emotions— in much the same way a kid might approach the ice cream truck. There would be tail wagging but an eventual paw swipe at the smaller dogs or a lunge at the larger dogs. Now, during walks with our numbnut, this behavior is more than I can handle. Has our discouraging his dog greeting (because he gets overwhelmed) reinforced his belief that all dogs are bad and that, when we tenderly try a meet-and-greet, he believes it appropriate to jump and swipe? Oh Sisyphus!

Above all else, it is embarrassing to have a dog that is inhospitable to some of our neighbors, while he slobbers and wags his tails at others. He adores the soft-spoken, aloof neighbor, who memorized Monte’s name, birth marks and habits before he could recognize my face or before I could even learn his name. Monte loves the children that play in our courtyard, who kick the soccer ball and proclaim their bravery in the face of slobbering dogs. He likes the constantly revolving line of fans at our local RedBox. He is angry at anyone who might be banging around under the hood of their cars or watering their lawns when we walk by. He doesn’t like if someone is listening to headphones or on their bicycle. He is angry when someone comes out from around a corner. He is elated at squirrels. He cowers at thunder and if someone slams the door downstairs. His agoraphobia has manifested itself not as the inability to leave the apartment, but rather with the inability to manage the barrage of sensory information he encounters outside. And I thought walking your dog was supposed to be calming and regenerative.

So we enrolled Monte is a Growl class. And he was a super star. I was not a super star. I was a blubbering fool, disappointed when Monte wouldn’t make eye contact and felt like jumping up and down at other dogs. I was a mess simply because I couldn’t stand the anxiety of holding in my anxiety enough to make sure Monte didn’t see that I was agitated. Turned out, I needed a Growl class for humans and Monte needed to stay home and eat bacon and watch Days of our Lives. I think that this human class I need to go find might be filed in the yellow pages under “therapy” or “support group”.

In Growl, the dog trainers told us to sing “jingle bells” to ourselves when approaching another dog, so as not to transfer the anxiety or tension through the leash to our dog. There’s a lot of talk of the leash being the emotional tether—the only thing “connecting” you to your dog. My tension tells Monte when to be tense. My relaxation tells Monte when to relax. My tension is high when I’m tense about making sure I relax enough. The trainers wouldn’t be able to help me if they knew I’m too worried about singing jingle bells and sacrificing one small bit of my attention from him to even remember why I’m supposed to be singing jingle bells in the first place.

It’s been 9 months since we adopted Monte. With excellent precision—if I have the timing right—I can navigate the most stress-inducing dog walk-past on the narrowest of sidewalks while Monte maintains eye contact and prepares to receive a treat. Food motivates. But motivational slogans and commands and food-giving is both exhausting and habit forming. Sometimes it doesn’t even work. Will Monte ever not need treats to walk like a reasonable, obedient and calm dog? Will I ever trust the dog? Will he ever trust me?

Word Choice?

2010-07-07T12:36:00.000-07:00

What did writers do before word processing? For one, we repeated ourselves a lot more. As I revise my book I am discovering my crutch words, how I repeat not just in a sentence or in a paragraph (typo) but over the course of 300 pages (tic). I couldn’t finish Anne Rice due to her abuse of the phrase “preternatural skin.” I mean, I wasn’t looking for much, just some vampire paperback action. But even so, I got so irritated I couldn’t read. I’m determined to avoid a similar mistake.

Enter the "Find" tool, which let me know how fond I am of "documenting." I love "to document." Tasks are "documented." So are people. I even found a "documented are," the passive voice version creating a double faux pas. What's eerie is that I've written these chapters at different times over the past four years. My writing might have changed but the obsession with documenting remaints.

I know some of my crutches even as I type them. I have banned myself from the phrase "truth be told" even I have the impulse to start every third sentence this way. I lean on "now," "then" and "so" as (lame) transitions. I'll allow myself this indulgence once in a while, but I try to be sparing.

"Find" next informed me I overuse the phrase "I confess."

"Difficult" was the next to go. Originally I was searching for the word "cult," to make sure I didn't make the same Yearning for Zion joke twice. "Difficult" turned up about every fifth page. It was like finding out one in five people is an alien.

And I have a problem with inserting too many clever, quippy similes, which are like a stinky cheese——delightful in small doses, but if overindulged, impact the bowels.

Then there's when a writer uses the "only once per novel word" twice. For instance, you only get to describe a character's neck as resembling a puggaree once. A favorite writer of mine had this sort of error in her latest novel, and I gasped as if she had just stepped up to accept a PEN Faulkner in a menstrual stained skirt. Where was the editor?

Alas, It's commonly mourned how the days of Maxwell Perkins level editing are long gone. Every time someone reads my book they catch something. But I'm the final gatekeeper. Just because the editor signs off doesn't mean I should

On Writing About Writing

2010-06-28T15:46:00.000-07:00

For three weeks I have been reworking the first chapter of my book. And yes, I’m going dotty because in many ways I have been working this same chapter (it began as an essay) for five years. About now it’s like tough, old dough that requires a violent punching. But this is the last stand. I have to make final decisions and once my book is out there I can’t take it back. If Chapter One doesn’t hold, then the reader will never go any further. So I am fine combing the situation and it’s brutal.

My Stymie of the Day takes place on page seventeen. I am worried about being one of those writers writing about writing.

In Montana workshops the general rule was to disdain stories about writers and writing. I'm I was one of the naysayers, but the more I think about it, I'm a sucker for stories that star writers (Sophie's Choice, Wonder Boys, Winslow in Love to name a few). Writers done well make for great main characters. But a bad story about a writer is worse than a bad story about a lawyer. Hence the sordid slushpile tale about the young "writer" who gets his "college girlfriend" "pregnant" and she breaks down over the "abortion."

Lesson: Write about writing if you must——but proceed with caution.

My book (as Chuck Klosterman would say) is 85% a true story. Nonfiction presents a different dilemma: How does the writer set up the project without writing too much about being a writer. My issue right now is that I have to get our heroine (me) from North Carolina to Montana to begin the story. The blog pretty much outs why I moved to Montana. But do I really want to write about that? The MFA, it seems, is often the published writer's dirty little secret. Writing about the MFA is akin to talking about that great yoga pose that aligns the lower intestine. Writers are supposed to emerge from remote valleys and mountain caves, not graduate school

Here's were the creative part of creative nonfiction comes in. I could simply say, "I moved out to Montana to write" and not say why. I have encountered this sidestep often in books, essays and author bios. "So and so lives and writers in the high plains of Nebraska." What so and so might neglect to mention is that he/she is in a PhD program in Lincoln, or a tenure track professor.

How much of the “writerly” parts should an author include? Eat, Pray, Love neglects to mention the lucrative book deal. But while as a writer (and poorling) my first question was how Elizabeth Gilbert financed all this self-actualization, it’s obvious most readers didn’t want to hear about it. They just wanted the story.

These are questions. And I haven’t decided yet.

I should also mention that the part about the MFA takes up maybe two paragraphs.

Thoughts?

(Note: It’s okay in a writing blog directed at other writers to write about writing)

What Not to Write

2010-06-23T12:01:00.001-07:00

Writing a query letter might be about the hardest assignment ever. You have to say what your work is *about* without sounding like a complete tool. Yet while ignorance might be the reason for lameness, it's no excuse.

In that spirit, here's a link to Slushpile Hell.

P is for PhD: A Year in Review

2010-06-17T12:12:00.000-07:00

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I know I abandoned the blog this past year. Guess I got worded out. When all you do day in/day out is words you crave a task that is not words. Frying a farm fresh egg in a skillet, for instance.

But here I am Summer break. My friends are (mostly) scattered. I find myself inspired to pen a brief wrap to the highlights of my past year as a PhD candidate in creative writing at Ohio University.

So.

I navigated the usual stages if a first year: 1) exhilaration 2) resolution 3) pedagogy 4) assembling of posse 5) poetic musing 6) hedonism 7) deathbed hangover 8) atonement 9) actual writing 10) random drive to Target 11) Karaoke-ing 12) existential questioning 13) the frantic desire to move to France 14) disintegration of self 15) lunch 16) gang warfare 17) more actual writing 18) veganism 19) lapse from veganism 20) total burnout 21) acceptance.

I fought back a torrent of seminars, meetings, assemblages, surveys, memos, notices, warnings, emails, reminders, reports, colloquia, announcements and etc. Ultimately I have found the "oh, I didn't see that one" technique works best.

I still miss Montana. This heartache won't heal. I cling to my 406 area code and MT driver's license. My tags have been expired over a year but I refuse to change them.

I took a Tristram Shandy seminar, which rocked. Sitting around a large oak table discussing 18^th century literature felt exactly like what grad school should be. Advice: take the time to search out those profs who bring the material to life, and the lit classes won’t feel like cement feet.

I lunched with writers such as Rebecca Skloot, George Saunders, Robin Hemley and Lydia Davis. I was hoping for a laying of hands or incantation of secret writer spells, but they did each break the terrible news that the actual writing part is up to me kindly. And sometimes, there was good cheese.

I published in The Gettysburg Review, Brevity, McSweeney’s Internet Tendency and mental_floss magazine.

For coursework I read Phillip Roth, Michael Chabon, Denis Johnson, Raymond Chandler, Dashiell Hammett, Joan Didion, Jonathan Swift, Alexander Pope, Mark Twain, Frederick Douglass, Nellie Bly, Hannah Crafts, Ralph Waldo Emerson, Henry David Thoreau, and about 50 critical articles, most of which could have been cut in half, although I recommend Henry Louis Gates, Janet McMaster, and Hugh Kenner who all write *gasp* enjoyable scholarship.

I taught three sections of comp at OU, and eight sections of business communication online, and wondered if I will ever get to lead a workshop.

And, somehow, through all of this, I managed to complete a draft of my first book. Despite the extra workload, I believe school helped. Yes, school can be a bubble, but for me the bubble works. As my former Montana prof Kevin Canty wrote once on writers, "Talky, drinky, gossipy, insecure and overcompensating, self-doubting, self-promoting, bright and dark, you are nevertheless My People and I love you almost all."

Reading in Olympia

2010-06-14T10:27:00.000-07:00

Lohmann Poetry Prize Reading

Three winners have been announced for the 7th annual Jeanne Lohmann Poetry prize sponsored and judged by Jeanne’s poetry friends in California, and facilitated by OPN. The winners (with their hometowns and poems) are Brian Desmond (University Place, Bicycles), Trina Burke (Seattle, Confinement in a Strange Hour), and Casey Fuller (Olympia, Why Are You People So Nice?). Also, contest sponsor Valerie Berry, will be in town "to say a word or two about each winning poem..., what caught the eye/ear/imagination." Jeanne Lohmann is scheduled to read as well. June 16, 2010, 6:30 PM at Traditions Fair Trade Cafe & World Folk Art, Olympia WA

2010-02-26T08:38:00.000-08:00

Someone at work alerted me to this crazypants new fangled program available on the interwebs called Mendeley. It allows you to cross reference and log academic articles and generate citations. Thought you should know.

If Spam Email was a Freshman Composition Essay, What Would I Say?

2010-02-25T12:35:00.000-08:00

I sincerely ask for forgiveness for I know this may seem like a complete intrusion to your privacy but right about now this is my best option of communication. This mail might come to you as a surprise and the temptation to ignore it as frivolous could come into your mind; but please consider it a divine wish and accept it with a deep sense of humility.

Dear L. Y.,

Your introduction demonstrates strong pathos, appealing directly to the reader with emotional language. Good job here. However, in revision please direct your attention to eliminating redundancy and consider leading with more concrete information. What is the purpose for you writing to your audience? Could you perhaps lead with a narrative; tell us a little story about where you came from, where you’re going. How am I involved, exactly?

This letter must surprise you because we have never meet before neither in person nor by correspondence, but I believe that it takes just one day to meet or know someone either physically or through correspondence.

I’m sorry—say what? Are you coming on to me? Know thy audience and write accordingly.

I got your contact through my personal search, you were revealed as being quite astute in private entrepreneurship, and one has no doubt in your ability to handle a financial business transaction.

While your audience will no doubt appreciate the lengths you went to personally investigate their background and interests (long walks on the beach, curling up with a fine book), you are rambling and I am suspicious something is up. By now, I don’t plan on listening to you because you’ve spent so much time seeking my trust and hoping I have some blind faith to throw around. I’m on to you!

I am L.Y. a transfer supervisor operations in investment section in Bank of China Ltd. Secretariat of the BOCHK Charitable Foundation 13/F. Bank of China Tower , 1 Garden Road , Hong Kong I have an obscured business suggestion for you.

Wait—did you just say “obscured business suggestion”? You don’t mean “obscure” by any chance, do you? Nevertheless, I like that the suggestion is obscured. That is, you’re finally admitting that what you’ll be asking me is no damn good and I’d be a fool to continue. Go on.

Before the U.S and Iraqi war our client General Mohammed Jassim Ali who work with the Iraqi forces and also business man made a numbered fixed deposit for 18 calendar months, with a value of (I will disclose amount upon your reply) in my branch.

Weigh the pros and cons of taunting your reader with teasers. Will you release this information later in your email? If you introduce a gun to act I, will it go off by act III? You risk alienating your reader (again, mind you) by asking them to follow through to learn more information. Is this assignment not to be informative rather than coy?

Upon maturity several notices was sent to him, even early in the war, again after the war another notification was sent and still no response came from him, We later find out that General Mohammed Jassim Ali and his family had been killed during the war in a bomb blast that hit their home.

After further investigation it was also discovered that General Mohammed Jassim Ali did not declare any next of kin in his official papers including the paper work of his bank deposit. And he also confided in me the last time he was at my office that no one except me knew of his deposit in my bank. So, (I will disclose amount upon your reply) is still lying in my bank and no one will ever come forward to claim it. What bothers me most is that, according to the to the laws of my country at the expiration 3 years the funds will revert to the ownership of the Hong Kong Government if nobody applies to claim the funds.

Against this backdrop, my suggestion to you is that I will like you as a foreigner to stand as the next of kin to General Mohammed Jassim Ali so that you will be able to receive his funds. I want you to know that I have had everything planned out so that we shall come out successful.
I have contacted an attorney who will prepare the legal documents that will back you up as the next of kin to General Mohammed Jassim Ali, all what is required from you at this stage is for you to provide me with your Full Names, private phone number and Address so that the attorney can commence his job.

Could I give you my public phone number (?) and we can call it a day?

After you have been made the next of kin, the attorney will also fill in for claims on your behalf and secure the necessary approval and letter of probate in your favor for the transfer of the funds to an account that will be provided by you with my guidance. There is no risk involved at all in the matter as we are going adopt a legalized method and the attorney will prepare all the necessary documents.

Please consider opting for a topic change and re-writing your persuasive essay all together to fit the requirements of the genre. You mention a legalized method. This makes me think of the often touched upon subject of marijuana legalization, legalization of drinking for 18 year olds, legalized driving when you’re 11, things of that nature. Pursue any of the above topics in favor of the current one, please.

Please endeavor to observe utmost discretion in all matters concerning this issue. Once the funds have been transferred to your nominated bank account we shall discuss the percentage issue on your reply.

Believe me, there’s nothing nomination worthy about my bank account. Know thy audience. Have I said that already?

If you are interested please send me your full names and current residential address, and I will prefer you to reach me on my private and secure email address below and finally after that I shall provide you with more details of this operation.

If you tweet: poems

2010-02-16T12:09:00.000-08:00

From the most recent Lost Roads newsletter:

Lost Roads' Editor, Susan Scarlata, is in the midst of "Tweeting" an entire book of poems. This experiment with dissemination started in January and will continue until the entire manuscript has been posted and sent out in to the world. If you are interested in following search SusanScarlata on Twitter and get a few lines of poetry added to your day, and an entire poem every three to four. This manuscript, entitled "Reaching Here," considers potential confluences of ancient rituals and current technologies.

Laura Palmer's Mom Writes Poetry

2010-02-11T10:32:00.000-08:00

Who knew?

Montana Represents at Dancing Girl Press

2010-02-07T14:40:00.000-08:00

The DGP 2010 lineup of chapbooks is out and the Montana kids are out in force.

Huzzah to Brandon Shimoda for "Ship-On-Land," written with Julia Cohen!

Mazel tov to Lindsay Bland, throwing down "Between the Devil and the Deep" in the Spring!

...and then, in the fall, there's "Great America" by yours truly.

2010, I love you already!

Slush: Not A Pleasing Fruity Drink

2010-01-24T15:00:00.000-08:00

The Wall Street Journal released this article about how getting read (nevermind published) from the slushpile has reached astronomically difficult proportions. For example, The Paris Review, publishes one solicited story a year, making the odds .o08%. So, do we draw up the noose, pile up the back issues, and jump?

By way of response, I would like to say that even today, in this supposed dearth, new writers get noticed. Who ever said writing was easy? People seem to cling to these glory days when the short story market paid the bills. And when was that? And how long, in the grand scheme of writing and publishing, did that era last?

Technology has made multiple submissions easy for the writer. Writers don't have to painstakingly type manuscripts, and then wait for their return. Now they can fire multiple copies off and carpet bomb if they like. Editors, lest they wind up drowned in sheafs of paper, have had to create lines of multiple defense. Having read for a lit mag, I don't blame them.

No, you can't mail your newly minted book off to Random House and expect a response, but if you are writing and submitting good work, publication is not dreaming the impossible dream. In the past three years Montana MFAers (as in, my fellow classmates) have cracked some tough markets, including The Colorado Review, The North American Review, The Black Warrior Review, The Boston Review, McSweeney's, The Atlantic Monthly, The Mid-American Review, and The Gettysburg Review. Books by former grads (that seems to take a few more years) have been published.

A quick look at The Paris Review told me this pub is not for the emerging artist. This month's issue (for example) has work by Robert Haas and Aimee Bender. Furthermore, I don't believe it's the responsibility of every lit mag to focus on emerging writers. It's not as if Aimee Bender and Robert Haas are spamming American.

Still, I'm glad for the lit mags that give us newbies a chance. Allow me to say, thanks. And if you are an emerging writer, consider supporting a mag that supports us.

Kim Addonizio at Benaroya Hall

2010-01-22T11:24:00.001-08:00

Thanks to po-friend Maggie, I got a free ticket to see Kim Addonizio and Gary Lilley read last night at Benaroya Hall here in Seattle.

She played harmonica. I found this video on YouTube that features one of the pieces she played last night. The video itself is from a reading at the Folger Library in D.C. Of note, her rad jacket in the video is the same one she wore last night. I covet.

P is for Publication!

2010-01-20T10:50:00.000-08:00

I have a book review in the latest edition of Brevity. For those unfamiliar, Brevity is an online lit mag dedicated to "concise nonfiction," meaning less than 750 words. "Over the past year Brevity has averaged 6,000 visitors per month, or 24,000 visitors per issue," (from the website). And it's free!

So get with it. Here's a link to my favorite from this issue.

Nanos

2010-01-18T19:58:00.000-08:00

On images

While I attempt to reconcile my day job--working in the department of chemistry at a research university--with wanting to write, I find artful endeavors in unlikely places. So, naturally, I have to pause what I'm doing and savor. Then blog about it.

Nanotechnology is all the rage in the material sciences right about now. Chemists enjoy working on a scale undetectable by just a human being. Equipment--marvels of technology, sure-- have removed the hands of a person away from the medium of the human body and made the humans' hands useful for knobs and computers to control the equipment. These people use bright & shiny equipment, and end up working at the cellular level with contrast agents & other cancer diagnostics and therapeutics. I get to see the equipment and see the writing in proposals. The narratives surrounding cancer research is a little awe-inspiring and a lot confusing.

In this image library, you can see these neat-o images. While looking at these images without the research background to understand can be unnerving--can I really know the exact significance and effort poured into making these by the aid of a giant microscope?--it makes a new kind of art gallery.

On language

In animal testing parlance to euthanize a rodent is to "sacrifice" it.

On text

If you can find anyone more concerned for formatting than the federal government, I'd like to know.

Does cancer research and being caught up in this department make me feel a little of this lazy bastardism? Yes, I fear, sometimes. Then this means I'm not trying hard enough.

Dispatch from Ohio

2010-01-14T17:45:00.000-08:00

It's winter quarter, and I'm taking nonfiction workshop which is the most awesomest workshop ever. (Hi Dinty!) Here's a link to a fun Gmap inspired essay by my prof.
Professor Dinty Moore, two other nonfiction cohorts and I are also developing a 19th Century American Essay course. This has been interesting, as nonfiction had yet to be formally invented. Perhaps this creation of a specialty qualifies us to be academics. Lesson One: all this past decade fracas over honesty in nonfiction would have been considered a non-issue back in the day.
I'm trying out a new strict persona as comp instructor this term. I make students read the textbook. I lecture from the textbook. Texting = Death. I don't take late work. DO WHAT I SAY YOUNGUNS. I wear black-rimmed glasses even though I have 20/20 vision and have affixed extra cat hair to my cableknit L.L. Bean cardigan.
OU is hiring a Nonfiction professor, and all the interviewees are coming to visit over the next few weeks. I will not be gossiping online about this process, however, as that would be unprofessional (Hi Dinty!). The important thing to remember is that there will be luncheons and colloquia. At last, Latin.

Exposition is a very windexed window.

2010-01-08T09:28:00.000-08:00

This is why poetry is not exposition.

2010 Writing Resolutions: Writing After the MFA

2009-12-31T18:30:00.000-08:00

Writer friend Jamey Hatley shared this link on Facebook today, where PEN/Faulkner winner Ann Patchett comes to the astounding discovery that if you write you will get more writing done. I know I’m being snarky here, but this, actually, is a valid observation. The point has been made before (Stephen King makes an especially strident case in his book On Writing) but it bears repeating — writers have to treat writing as a job, or it won’t get done.

I’ll try not to quibble in that writing for Ann Patchett IS a job, i.e. she is PAID, but those of us in the fledgling ranks must flap with due diligence. Today I finished Water for Elephants (as part of my quest to read books that non grad students read). Sara Gruen apparently sat in a closet to avoid distractions as she finished. My strategy is to live alone and not have reliable internet access.

Ann Patchett says that last year, for the first 32 days of the new year, she wrote everyday. Her claim is that setting this precedent, aligning this mental juju helped. I’m signing up, along with 30 minutes a day of Pilates or yoga to lose my MFA muffintop.

You in?

Family Reading

2009-12-26T06:06:00.000-08:00

Home for Christmas is always a slap of reading reality. Hang around writerly types too much and you’d believe everyone is griping about how The New Yorker only publishes Alice Munro.

Who?

Here’s what the fam has in hand this week: Nora Roberts, Michael Creighton, The Christmas Gift (about a woman reconciles some family issue), and some 19th century Celtic adventure that has a blurb by Frank McCourt on the back.

Me? U is for Undertow.

Nobody has to ask who Sue Grafton is. This was Mom’s present from my brother and his wife. Within minutes I had ferreted it upstairs. I went through a huge woman P.I. phase about fifteen years ago and I still want to write one. To tell the truth, it’s a relief to read a story where I don’t have to stop every other sentence and marvel at its perfect construction. O, the entendre!

The other day I met with a friend of mine, who is editor of a national magazine. I picked up her recently purchased copy of Middlesex sitting on the counter. She wanted to know what I thought. That’s a tricky one. Mainstream plot twister? Or esoteric literature?

“Okay,” she looked me in the eye. (These are the real book reviews, that take place in a kitchen with two fingers of bourbon). “Is it good? I mean, will I enjoy reading this or will it be work?”

“Well,” I said. “I dug it. But I love sprawling family epics.”

“Uhhhhhhh. I couldn’t finish A Hundred Years of Solitude.”

“What I will say, is that the book isn’t sprawling just to be sprawling. Meaning Middlesex is plotted. There’s a reason that you need Part A for Parts B and C.”

“Dang, this was my beach read,” she said.

“Oh, I liked it!” said the woman to my left, the third heat. Not enrolled in a PhD program, her readability opines can be trusted.

“Yeah?” said my friend, more interested now.

Maybe my freshman are right, there are only two real reviews: 1) It was good, I liked it. 2) It was boring.

Vladimir Has a Blog!

2009-12-23T13:32:00.000-08:00

The EBM guy at Third Place Books has a blog! In it, he even mentions my order! Now you can follow the labyrinthine navigation of the subtleties of copyright law, the hilarious effects of technical difficulties, and the obscure list of titles that people are requesting (hello, Adventures of Piang The Moro Jungle Boy).

Holiday Give and Get Lists: The Book Edition

2009-12-16T14:14:00.000-08:00

Penguin has a page on its website devoted to its authors’ lists of books they are giving to others for the holidays and books they wish to get. It’s pretty nifty. It also puts me in a mind to examine my literary purchases for the season.

For my brother, the last book of Robert Jordan’s Wheel of Time series, The Gathering Storm. A deep and abiding obsession with all things fantasy is one of the few traits my brother and I share, and we had both invested years in this series when Robert Jordan died in 2007 without finishing the final installment. My brother is not aware that this book even exists yet, so I’m hoping it will be a nice surprise. I’m currently catching up on the penultimate and pre-penultimate books. Don’t hate me because I love books that include maps of places that don’t exist.

My father gets David Finkel’s The Good Soldiers. This one is on a bunch of year end best-of lists.

The EBM-spawned copy of Susannah Moodie’s Roughing it in the Bush goes to my aunt. She digs historical nonfiction, especially of the pioneer-lady ilk. As a side note, my camera doesn’t work so I couldn’t take a picture of the beautiful, stupendous edition that I got. I can say that it looks every bit like a real book—the color quality and design of the cover is brilliant and the book itself is indistinguishable from a mass-produced paperback. The only flaw was that a couple of the pages were out of order.

For my friends Frank and Suzan, with whom I watched Louis Malle’s My Dinner with Andre for the first time, I purchased Wallace Shawn’s Essays. I had to ask for help finding this one from one of Third Place Books’ friendly info desk guys. When we found it in the stacks, he took one look at the cover image of the author and said excitedly, “Vizzini!”

The fiancé has already received his Christmas tome, Simon Mawer’s The Glass Room. It takes place in a fictionalized version of Prague. We got engaged in Prague. It seemed appropriate.

Perhaps most apparent in this list is the absence of any poetry books. It’s not surprising. I am, admittedly, not a poetry proselytizer. If my people don’t typically read poetry, I don’t tend to push it on them. Besides, my poetry reading friends also read this blog, and I don’t want to ruin any surprises that may be coming their way.

On the get list: Ted Hughes’ Crow and Frances Wilson’s The Ballad of Dorothy Wordsworth. Also Ana Bozicevic's Stars of the Night Commute.

"And what does Sorrow care / For the rosemary?"

2009-12-16T08:52:00.001-08:00

DIY Poetry Infusions

FIction, Nonfiction or Poetry? A Genre Quiz

2009-12-13T14:05:00.000-08:00

You didn’t prepare for workshop today. What’s your excuse?

a. Sorry, too drunk.
b. Sorry, my meds were off.
c. Bumblebee.

You wrote all day today. The following describes your process:

a. Writhing in agony, pulling of hair, torrid typing, screaming, pacing, pounding of head on keys.
b. The above, but you finish the day with a hot bath.
c. Over hibiscus tea, you penciled in a comma. After a long stroll by the stream, you came back and erased it.

Characterize your intimate relationships.

a. Cradle Robbers R Us.
b. Quite healthy, actually, unless your meds are off.
c. Random pressing of bodies in narrow, wallpapered hallways.

You’ve just finished Lolita. Describe your mood.

a. I should perform the literary world a favor and shoot myself.
b. Inspired by Nabokov’s descriptive powers, a writing exercise comes to mind OR the book triggers such disturbing memories you can’t finish.
c. That first paragraph. Delightful!

Time to make money.

a. I’m going write that YA graphic novel.
b. I’m going lie about how I joined a pack of wolves.
c. It is with great sorrow that I part with my grandmother’s brooch.

Describe your perfect meal:

a. Cheeseburger and a fifth of Jack.
b. French cheese, Indonesian curry, and Mexican goat tamales, accompanied by a story of how you nearly died learning to prepare each.
c. Lavender crumpets and rainbow mist. One perfectly butchered lamb chop seasoned by the waft of a rosemary sprig.

You have no doubt by now figured which letter corresponds to which genre. If you had significant answers in a second category, congrats! You’ve discovered your second genre. You are going to be rich.

EBM: How Do I Geek Out Over Thee?

2009-12-11T09:54:00.000-08:00

Third Place Books in Lake Forest Park has a new Espresso Book Machine and it is up and running! Haven't heard of the EBM? What, have you been living under a rock? Are you a savage?

Essentially, it's a print-on-demand machine that bookstores can purchase in order to gain access to over 800,000 titles that can be searched for and printed in-store while the customer waits. It's a nice alternative to online ordering in that it gives you the option of supporting your local bookstore and you get instant gratification. That is, if the title is available for printing.

There are still some kinks surrounding copyright and digital availability, of course. For example, when I tried to order two sci-fi books by Arkady and Boris Strugatsky, this is the answer I got:

Hi Trina,

After doing some research here's what I have:The Strugatsky books are nebulous-- There are versions available as pdf downloads or txt files, but I can't seem to figure out wha the exact copyright status is on them. I'm not really trusting any .ru sites since they are notorious for book piracy. I'll see if I can get an answer on these in the next week or two. IF they are available, then we'd offer a service where we'd take the pdf or txt file and work it into an actual book-- these would cost more since they are essentially a special order; nothing prohibitive, but probably in the order of 15 - 20 dollars for the process (including the book, of course).

So much for instant gratification. Still, I've been searching for these titles for months at local used bookstores to no avail. The University where I work even offered a class on Russian sci fi that included the books on its syllabus; however, when I visited the U Bookstore to try and pilfer student copies, there were none available. Copies available from bookstores online run anywhere from $13.90 (before shipping) to $59. It can't hurt to wait and see.

On the bright side, Vladimir the EBM guru was able to find and print Susannah Strickland Moodie's delightfully named Roughing it in the Bush: Or Life in Canada for the relatively low price of $15.95. It's waiting for me at customer service as I write this.

I'm not saying that the EBM will revolutionize publishing or save the industry or anything. Some might say that the EBM is just a glorified copy machine. Having worked with some pretty phat copy machines in my day as well as in a press room, I'm still impressed by the notion of a self contained machine that is this small and can MAKE A BOOK from start to finish in under 30 minutes. I want one of these in my living room.

And no, I can't really explain why I'm so enamored with the EBM while Amazon's Kindle and the Sony Reader leave me cold. I'm not opposed to either of the latter, per se. I'm not afraid of shiny things. I quite like shiny things, especially when they give me almost unlimited access to all the texts I could ever want to read. Maybe I'm just disappointed at the limitations of these digital readers when I know they could do so much more. If I'm going to go digital, I want the full hypertext experience. I want to be able to look things up on the Internet as I read and come across information that needs to be explored further. I want digital books that are hyperlinked to their references and that have notes linking to other books or websites or images or whatever. Otherwise, print will do just fine.

The true test, of course, will be the object itself. I'll be picking it up tonight after work. Pictures will be posted. Further analysis to come.

On Not Attending That Meeting

2009-12-08T08:01:00.000-08:00

As I retreat farther and farther away from normal activity w/r/t writing, the web sure is a big help. In an attempt to be involved in that thing called the outside world ( meet with writers, readings, Rogers Park, Chicago) I’ve “joined” several Meetup.com groups, maybe left a tiny scrawl on the message board, then chickened out when the event time rolled around and didn’t go.

I attended a single meeting of a local writer’s group. And had a great time and met some people and learned their names. And then I chickened out and didn’t go.

I pass the Mess Hall almost daily and see a sign for the Next Objectivists Poetry Meeting. And I am joyous and excitement abounds. And then I’m too nervous to go into a room with people I don’t know and just imagine walking in and sitting down and desperately wanting—as I always do in new spaces—ask the Captain Obvious question “Is this the [insert name of event going on] meeting?” Well of course it is! But that is the only ice breaker I can conjure. I wish I had better ice breakers. (How much does a polar bear weigh?)

Yes, indeed, I am only hurting myself. Yes, indeed, I’d like to retreat into anonymity. But abandon the perks onymity has to offer?

If you search the internet, scour it enough, I bet you’ll find the traces of places where I’ve been but never went.

My Life as Myself: A Memoir

2009-12-06T11:50:00.000-08:00

I’ve been using the winter break to finish my nonfiction book, and after working all day every day on this project for two straight weeks (and beginning four years ago), can I just say that I am so sick of me? I’m sick of my thoughts, what I see, how I describe it, the people I meet and what I say to them. I’m sick of my observations, my musings, my jokes, my interactions and my interpretations.

Now I know why I write fiction. I want to be somebody else. Because I am freaking tired of me.

People tend to think of fiction writers as the egotists, but consider the ego it takes to write first person nonfiction. The writer has to assume that the world can’t wait to read her thoughts on whatever she feels like writing about.

This is my first book-length experience inhabiting the same narrator. Before I’ve written essays or stories from different POVs. Well, right now I don’t know that I will ever, ever want to spend over 300 pages with no one but myself again.

I’m going to Columbus tomorrow for a little road trip, Thai food and gourmet ice cream. It’s for the best.

A Bartleby of One's Own

2009-12-03T19:43:00.000-08:00

Maybe this is one of those "hey we've all known about this forever why didn't you" posts, but I hadn't heard of this, so I'm passing it on.

I might be giddy from our first date, but I think this is for real.

Sorry, Microsoft. We're done. And wasn't this relationship always a compromise? You were what everyone expected, but I was never happy. And your features? I am sure they will make someone very happy but they just never did it for me. Thanks and see ya.

Hello, Scrivener. Designed by a writer for a writer. Not by a robot for other robots.

I have been working on a book and reached the point of wondering just how many windows I could have open before my desktop collapsed. It's been unwieldy. Unattractive. Irritating!

Now I can have a tidy little binder to my right. And I write in any format/font I choose, and then when I export, I can create settings. I can even export as a Word document.

I don't want to be that annoying person who can't stop talking my wonderful new relationship, but if you write, and especially if you write novels or research-based projects. Check it out.

2009-11-24T07:25:00.000-08:00

Can Experimental Cultural Centers Replace MFA Programs?

2009-11-23T16:35:00.000-08:00

Applications and Intimacy Issues

2009-11-18T08:52:00.000-08:00

For those applying to MFA programs, Poets & Writers has put together past articles on the subject and bundled them in tidy PDF for $5. This saves you having to purchase entire past issues for that one MFA article you wanted. And yes here’s the plug: I’m in there for my article on life as an MFA TA.

My vote for most helpful article is not mine (because you’ll figure out everything you need to know about being an MFA TA as you do it) but Steve Almond’s Confessions of an MFA Applicant Reader. I read this article when I was applying. It talked me out of the tree and helped me focus on the important stuff, like remember we are all human beings. During the application process, in all the lists and transcript requests and spreadsheets and the GREs you’d think our ultimate goal in life is Vice President of Linux Operations. We forget that a person will read our story.

Consider this reader. Visualize. She sits at a desk or a kitchen table, or more probably at home, on a sofa. To her right is a box of envelopes. She worries that her own work is suffering. She is slightly depressed at this daunting task and knows that she should be grateful for her tenure track job but right now, she’d rather be watching the latest Joss Whedon release. It’s exhausting to read stacks of apprentice level work.

This writer, after refilling the wine glass (Malbec), flips past the paperwork, straight to the writing sample. The writer sighs, hoping but not expecting. If she’s hell yes on first read it goes in that pile. No goes in that pile. Some go in the maybe pile. At the end of this first sorting, then she re-evaluates. In this second wave she reads letters of rec and the statement, not expecting inspiration so much as scanning for red flags.

When we write letters and polish our stories and mail out to schools and agents and editors, we need to remember to connect, and not get all frazzled in these feelings of “out there.” I believe this intimacy is difficult for us as writers, because intimacy is awkward and terrifying. It’s one thing to say Syracuse didn’t like your story, and much worse to think George Saunders didn’t.

Ouch. Hurts. It hurts. That's why I didn't apply to Syracuse.

Think of the MFA application process as the first test, because if you can’t ward off the doublespeak now, you will drown in school. Academentia has this way of pulling you away from the reason you wanted to get an MFA in the first place. The meetings. The Rhet/Comp Portfolios. The 50 emails on campus parking updates. The time suck has the potential for infinity, but unlike a job, you have the option of saying no. The MFA years may or may not yield publishable work, but you have the opportunity to make writing a habit, something that has to get done or the day feels wrong.

Bacon: The Other White Meat

2009-11-13T06:01:00.000-08:00

The Freshman 15 is a documented higher education phenomena. Now it’s time to recognize the MFA Muffintop.

I arrived at Montana in fighting shape. I was practicing Ashtanga Yoga and my skinny pants slung low and confident on my hips. On moving day I hauled box after box to my second floor apartment, my arms lean and strong, the bye-bye muscle flexing like a cat. I was ready to take on the west and get this writing thing on.

I met a guy.

I met Doublefront chicken.

The guy took me out for Doublefront chicken.

Winter came.

Spring I started taking two workshops.

Two workshops did me in. The basement of Doublefront became the post-workshop decompression chamber. There was a bar, a friendly bartender, a dumbwaiter that delivered piping hot fried chicken, French fries and pickles. And deep fried mac n’ cheese wedges. And pitchers of beer. At the mention of Doublefront any Montana MFA’s eyes will glaze over as she stares off, imagining that virgin tear of the crispy, crunchy skin after a long day of soul crushing. You don’t mean to eat all the fries but there they are beckoning one at a time. You don’t mean to drink another pitcher, but then one of the regulars wins on Keno and buys the room another round.

The skinny pants began to ride little higher. Then, a little lower. They were traded for stretchy pants. Traded for the stretchy skirt. Thesis reading pics revealed a poofier me. One photo in profile captured a undeniable, earlier pregnancy-type pooch. It projected horizontally against the backdrop of the majesty of the Rocky Mountains. Dumbo ears budded at my sides. That’s okay, I consoled myself. I can get rid of this.

I moved to New Orleans.

There were benefits. My skinny pants were also tight across the butt. This was new, a butt. I graduated from a B to a C cup. This was new, boobs! I wasn’t gaining weight, I told myself, I was filling out.

I moved to Ohio. And as I bet over to pick up a box, I split my skinny pants.

Clearly, I had a tumor. I’d heard about people having ten pound growths pulled out, forgotten twins, growths like giant pearls around teeth. Once the tumor was removed, I consoled myself, I could have my pre-MFA stomach back.

I was looking forward to this.

I went to the doctor and had to get weighed. I stood while she slid the little weight further and further over to the right.

She slid over the big weight.

2009-11-11T07:15:00.000-08:00

The mind is a treadmill of endless decision-making. Pressures build, offsetting our equilibrium and making rational determinations harder to achieve. Cooler minds prevail. More passionate dispositions get blown about by contrary winds.

Translating Editorspeak: A Writer’s Guide

2009-11-08T20:38:00.000-08:00

As writers, what do we complain about most? Lack of time to write. Well, here's some help. I’ve noticed that when sorting out acceptance letters from rejections, that the first few words tell all. With this guide you don’t even have to read to the end of the first sentence anymore!

We love: You’re bad. Jam on it.

We are pleased: Yay!

We are interested: You are in, but only after a grueling revision.

We found. You might be in after a grueling revision.

We enjoyed. Your piece didn’t cut it, but please don’t shoot yourself.

Thanks for this. We’re concerned. Are you OK?

While. No.

I did receive a rejection from a lit mag recently that informed me that while they ultimately had to decline, they did “read until the end.” I could be irritated, but having read for a lit mag before, understand that this is actually, high praise.

Go Brian!

2009-11-05T13:22:00.000-08:00

Brian Kevin technically graduated in 09, but the class of 08 claims him. Sorry dude, you're ours.

So the 08 pub count continues!

BK's essay "Songs (Largely) in the Key of Life" is forthcoming in The Colorado Review.

To Drive or Not to Drive

2009-11-04T13:17:00.000-08:00

I'm in Hamlet mode. Hamlet was a Libra.

I just found out my Montana prof Kevin Canty is reading Tuesday in Winston Salem. I live 5 hours away in Athens, Ohio. Compared to Missoula, this is close, but it's not really that close. And it's the last week of the quarter. Freshmen are piling up outside my doorstep. Body count is high.

And I'm pretty sure the house I own in Durham is crumbling at the brick level, about to teeter right off these stumbly piers it was built upon in 1928. But I can't seem to make it there to deal with it. That distance, an extra hour, feels way too far to drive. Probably forever.

Somehow, that I lived in North Carolina for fifteen years seems to matter.

This is where I need my MFA friend Anne Marie, who would say, "We are going. We are DEFINITELY going."

I probably won't go.

But it sure would be awesome to go.

First Quarter Almost Down

2009-11-03T13:31:00.000-08:00

Today my Facebook status was "I'm toast. Butter it," which was more creative writing than I've pursued in weeks.

Why am I here again? I wrote very expressly on my Statement of Purpose that I wanted time to write.

PhD life STILL beats working. And last week was taken over by such worthwhile activities as hanging out with visiting writer Brenda Miller, a time period during which I received not one but two (!) free lunches. Supposedly other people "missed" the email but you can't afford to make those amateur, MFA mistakes! Not when it comes to food.

I ordered a cheese plate, salad AND shrimp pasta bathed in saffron cream sauce.

I discovered on the ride home from the airport that Miller is a Montana MFA from the Kittredge era. Even better, she is totally down with the Golden Girls longhouse in Anaconda. (This is the post-man retirement plan in which we get a huge, warm house, write by day, drink wine and cook at night. Mornings we hold our coffee mug, stand on the deck overlooking the snowy-capped vista and exclaim "Ahhhh!")

After Brenda Miller left there was Halloween.

All I can say there is fun, but ooof.

Okay, off to grade PowerPoint presentations for my second job that I'm not supposed to have.

Kevin Canty at 2010 SLS

2009-10-30T09:20:00.000-07:00

Montana's Kevin Canty to teach at Summer Literary Seminars in Montreal, Summer 2010.

Go Walt! Sell, Sell, Sell!

2009-10-27T12:46:00.000-07:00

Slate Magazine's Seth Stevenson looks at Levi's new ad campaign.

A Chronicle of Writer's Chronicle Anxiety

2009-10-23T16:58:00.000-07:00

Writer’s Chronicles are piling up on my office desk. I mean to read, but before I get a chance another one appears in my box.

I know I should study the articles and learn, because writing is my scene, but I don’t know how to absorb all this writing about writing. Writing about writing is like teaching writing or learning writing — too many ings. I need to write. Write. Such a clean, simple verb, devoid of passive voice. I feel guilty if I don’t read Writer’s Chronicle but then I feel worse if I’m reading the Writer’s Chronicle and not writing.

I did make it through two articles this afternoon. One interview with Lee Gutkind, because he’s a nonficion honcho, and another interview with poet Sheryl St. Germain because a friend of mine graduated from Chatham and she’s the director there. And I saw that she’s from New Orleans so that caught my eye. More specifically the word "gumbo" caught my eye. Gumbo. I like gumbo.

Then I skim the ads, looking for anyone I know. I notice that more I stay in gradschooland, the more I recognize. But I am even more amazed by all the names I don’t know. How is it all these people are professors and visiting writers and I’ve never heard of them? Although clearly these writers are more published and accomplished than me or they wouldn't be featured in an ad.

Which leads to the next anxiety.

Why isn’t my name featured in an ad? Will I ever be one of these names other aspiring readers skim over wondering who I was and why I matter? Will I have a little black and white photo with my chin tilted at a saucy angle? Ack! I need a career. Which means I need pubs.

Which leads to the next anxiety.

All the contests. And calls for lit mag submissions. I try to circle with my pen but at this point I’m hyperventilating a little. Cookie. I need a cookie.

So I read the MFA ads. The MFA ads are safe because I already have an MFA. I wonder if ads work. I wonder if applicants look and think, wow that’s the coolest brick building I’ve ever seen. I am SO going there.

One trend I noticed in these ads was the slogan. I saw an ad for Ohio U and it was thankfully sloganless. Another advertising tactic is the writer’s quote. It seems to have more weight if the famous writer has an association with the program (Hugo for Montana, or O Connor for Georgia College and State). The quote is less of a sin than the slogan.

I don't know who is writing these slogans but I suspect writers aren't writing them.

Top Ten Worst MFA Slogans:

10. Be a Writer in a City of Readers (Portland State U)

9. Finally…an MFA that trains you for a career not just a genre (Western Connecticut State)

8. Immerse Yourself in the Writing Life (Old Dominion)

7. The World’s Focus is on our Faculty. Our Faculty’s Focus is on You (Drew)

6. My words... My time... My MFA. (U of Nebraska at Omaha)

5. Creative. Exploring. Worldly. Aware. Inventive. Challenging. Poetic. Engaging. (Chatham)

4. Write from the Heartland (Ashland)

3. Get Carried Away by the City of Big Shoulders (Roosevelt U)

2. Scribbling on the Ether: The Changing Nature of Writing and Publication (Western Michigan U)

And… the winner:

1. Write from the Heart of Writing (Lesley U)

Budget schmudget: A research coordinator's anxiety

2009-10-17T18:25:00.000-07:00

I've kept a good secret. My untold secret at work is, evidently, that I Can't Do Math. I'm asked to do math and then I end up doing it--fuzzy math, real math, calculator math, math on the fly, math on Excel. Sure, it's only adding and subtracting and the occasional percentage adjustment, but geeze, do you really want your paycheck coming from the grant budget I prepare? Do you feel lucky?

Evidently, they do. With a whole lot of coaching and a whole lot of (necessary, for dolts like me) bureaucracy, I submit grants through the university channels and they make their way into the hands of the government. And they are reviewed by study sections. And funded. Or not. And people are paid. And accounting is complete. And, maybe at the end of the day, I can remember I did something sort of correct once.

Deep breaths.

What is more anxiety producing is the sheer volume of acronyms and procedure surrounding the process of fuzzy and real math and draft and final budgets and draft and final proposals. I work in chemistry, so that's the easy part. I watch as a narrative slowly, carefully, emerges like those swatches of blah in the color comics on Sunday that revealed an outline of something in 3D. Only upon sneaking a look at the answer key printed upside down did I say "ooooh" and know what the 3D lump really was. It is that way when I look at the science, written up in agreeable Arial pt 11 with 0.5 margins. I can see a 3D-ish lump, but I need someone to say something layman-y and then I can go "oooh." Then I get what's going on. Or, it stays a lump with no answer key. That happens too. Not a chemist, I.

Not a natural administrator, I. We learn a facilities and administration rate, we learn modified indirect cost bases, we learn consortium costs, we learn OMB circulars, we learn effort reporting, we learn voluntary cost sharing. I'm nomenclatured out and it still feels strange to walk into a room to talk about cost transfers and institutional endorsements and go out into the sun and drink coffee like nothing crazy just happened in there.

Then I saw C.D. Wright read at the Art Institute Thursday night. And all was well with the week.

And this feels painfully beautiful / whether or not / it will change the world one drop

Notes, Fiction Workshop 10/15/09

2009-10-16T13:13:00.000-07:00

Proulx, The Half-Skinned Deer. Is the soft turn enough? Subject of story is not especially original, and then all the flashbacks but gee, what language. Powers of description. The Shipping News all written in fragments. Amazing, but — don't try this at home. She always has a male narrator. Bleak landscape. Is he dead at the end? Doesn’t look good. That one red eye is creepy. Yeesh.

Stuart Dybek, The Palatski Man. His stories always seem to be about the glory of childhood. Oh, those good old days. Catholic imagery (the apple, too much? Yes. No.) but potentially justified because of the authenticity of his background. I saw him read once and I heard he draws salary from Western Michigan University and Northwestern but doesn’t really teach at either. Is that true? Interplay between the real world and the alternative world. We go down the rabbit hole into Wonderland to learn about the real world. Then we come back from it and what? We get our period?

[[[Call Regions Bank. Re: bounced check!!!]]]

[[[[And Sexual Harassment Seminar 111 Ellis at 10 a.m].]]]

POV. The “We” narrator is always an “I” really, so who is the “I” in this story? What else has been written in we? There’s that story by Aimee Bender whatsitcalled. Then We Came to the End works because “we” is this corporate, office “we” that everyone knows. Story about the mail order bride by Judy Budnitz. Any others. Hmmm.

Play with POV. You’re Ugly, Too by Lorrie Moore begins with “you” but it’s the rhetorical you, not you, then moves in into 3rd and then close third where we inhabit the interior world of the narrator.

[[[Cat food. Rhet Comp presentation Mon.]]]]

Seattle Bookfest is Back!

2009-10-15T12:36:00.000-07:00

The long defunct Seattle Bookfest has apparently risen from the dead.

Tips For Young Academics

2009-10-11T11:44:00.000-07:00

In Heteronormativity is Hot Right Now from the October 7th edition of The Chronicle of Higher Education, James S. Lambert, provides a valuable guide on how to properly introduce yourself to the discourse community.

A few choice highlights:

Never deviate from introducing your interests with the phrase "I am interested in," because this is what you are interested in. Really. You are interested in these things because they are interesting. Especially interesting is whatever your last long paper was about.

And...

Here is a crib sheet of recent theoretical terms: liminal, heteronormativity, empire, postempire, trauma, narratography, post-new formalism, posthuman, specism, fecism, culturality, hybridity, hybridism, Lacanimal, bestiality, bestialism, bestialology, postbestiality, and so on.

Don't forget! —

Take two totally unrelated concepts, like bookbinding and waterboarding, and add "the intersections of" before them. This works really well for sexualities: "the intersections between monuments and masculinity" or "the intersections between transgender and Trans Ams."

Based his guide, here is my declaration of interests:

“I’m Kelly Kathleen Ferguson, I’m a first year in the Ph.D. program, and I am interested in the intersections between a structuralist model of frontier specism and the rhetoric of sexually-assigned chores, particularly as it relates the butter churn, the bovine, and the postbestiality construct of the American consumptive pattern. Before I came here I was working on a project with Judy Blunt at the University of Montana in which we explored means of survivalism in Western women’s memoir and where we pinpointed areas of domestic hybridity, and I hope to continue studying these junctions within the context of a posthuman anthropomorphic construct, and shame.”

Nola Writers in the News

2009-10-07T11:15:00.001-07:00

Again! Jamey Hatley, one of my writer friends I made while in Nola was interviewed by Galley Cat as an "up and coming writer." We used to commiserate over writing troubles, post MFA blues, Fresh Comp foibles and all that at The Rue.

Post MFA Quiz!

2009-10-02T11:42:00.000-07:00

Name the novels that belong to these first sentences:

When the phone rang I was in the kitchen, boiling a potful of spaghetti and whistling along with an FM broadcast of the overture to Rossini’s The Thieving Magpie, which has to be the perfect music for cooking pasta.

Here is an account of Quoyle, born in Brooklyn and raised in a shuffle of dreary upstate towns.

Ten days after the war ended, my sister Laura drove a car off a bridge.

All happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.

Many years later, as he faced the firing squad, Colonel Aureliano Buendia was to remember that distant afternoon when his father took him to discover ice.

“Where’s Pa going with that ax?” said Fern to her mother as they were setting the table for breakfast.

Amerigo Bonasera sat in New York Criminal Court Number 3 and waited for justice, vengeance on the men who had so cruelly hurt his daughter, who had tried to dishonor her.

It was a queer, sultry summer, the summer they electrocuted the Rosenbergs, and I didn’t know what I was doing in New York.

Buck did not read the newspapers, or he would have known that trouble was brewing, not alone for himself, but for every tide-water dog, strong muscled and with warm, long hair, from Puget Sound to San Diego.

Six months before Polly Cain drowned in the canal, my sister, Nona, ran off with a cowboy.

I am doomed to remember a boy with a wrecked voice – not because of the voice, or because he was the smallest person I ever knew, or even because he was the instrument of my mother’s death, but because he is the reason I believe in God; I am a Christian because of ________.

Publication: Word for / Word

2009-09-28T09:33:00.000-07:00

I've got some poems up here.

Sing a Song of Rhet Comp

2009-09-28T06:25:00.000-07:00

Today my students turned in their first batch of essays. I call this: the stack of doom.

They'll hurt you, and desert you

And take your soul if you let them

Oh, but don't you let them

Consider me steeled against essays that begin, “In all of today’s society…” I won’t even let my mandatory class about the pedagogy of the dialectic of the rhetoric get to me. A pox on the discourse community!

Here is another difference between MFA and PhD. I watch the first years scramble around, saying silly things like they “can’t make lunch” because they have to “prepare.” O, first years. If higher education has taught me anything, it’s that lunch is the best part.

Today, after three years of musing on the problem with Comp, my answer today is this: by trying to appeal to everyone and teach everything it appeals to no one and teaches nothing. Fresh Comp should be eliminated and other profs forced to assign some writing instead of grading via Scantron. Writing should be part of coursework — so students have something to write about.

Wait, isn't that how a little school called Cambridge operates?

I took a Monday morning appointment for the Gyn at student health to get out of my Rhet/Comp graduate class this morning. And here I sit next to a vat of anti-bacterial hand sanitizer. I might try some grading. Or not.

I need The Clapper As Seen on TV for my inside.

Soul off. Soul on.

Comp is difficult to distance because the subject is near my heart, yet killing it. I have no illusion that in nine weeks I can prepare young minds for the rest of their college coursework. What? NO. And furthermore, it’s wrong of the university to put this guilt trip on me. I’m Catholic and that’s not playing fair. I see the guilt on the faces of my fellow TAs as we are lectured on our grave responsibility. The Facebook updates about how they stayed up all night doing homework. It’s so easy to make the good girls and boys feel bad. Know what? If the U really cared it would pay real teachers to teach, not throw twenty somethings in front of a classroom and hope for the best. They wouldn't prepare us by assigning articles published in 1980 about the History of the Sentence.

Strangely enough, I see that comp instructors are often the best a student gets. We’re not tenured, rifling through the same lecture notes. We love lunch and therefore we can still love. But for how long?

I don’t want you anymore

Cause you took my joy

I don’t want you anymore

You took my joy

I want it back

You took my joy

I want it back

The jumping through academic hoops wears a soul down. Don’t you let them.

All I want in life is to be that awesome visiting writer . The problem is my students could throw me a freaking parade at the end of this quarter and cite that parade in the correct MLA format and I would be no closer to my dream job. It’s all in my pubs. And that’s the weird part, how a creative writing professor in the eyes of the U isn’t any different from any other discipline.

Or perish.

George Saunders Says Exactly the Right Thing. Again.

2009-09-25T12:36:00.000-07:00

Another documentary to put on the list: Vernon Lott, "Bad Writing." Trailer link here.

Or, just read this quote by George Saunders,"As far as I'm concerned bad writing is always about a falseness. It's about the writer's real view of the world and her tendency to articulate it being out of sync in some way. So it's basically a dishonesty that comes from an under-confidence in the idea that what you actually are is good enough."

And yes, George Saunders is the visiting writer this spring at the Ohio University Spring Literary Festival.

The Basement: Not All It's Cracked Up To Be

2009-09-24T08:50:00.000-07:00

Coinciding with my one-year anniversary as a gainfully employed person, for the second time in as long, the ceiling of my office is spewing dank water from the Forestry department's critter freezers. As I drink my first cup of coffee, getting ready to proof some course descriptions for the winter quarter, I can't help but think about what could have been. And yet, all those other possibilities--legislative work, perpetual academic life, teaching, Florida, the glamorous life of schlepping coffee--seem like pale fantasies. This life, the one that starts every workday in a dusty basement lit not by windows but a bank of flourescent lights, is wholly appropriate. This is the Rome to which all roads inevitably lead.

All that's left to do is reach up and give my Affirmation Ball (HR's take on the Magic 8-Ball, bright yellow and bearing the countenance of a happy face) a shake. Today's affirmation? "Half Full!"

PhD Inbox: A True Story

2009-09-20T08:01:00.000-07:00

Dear K, our records indicate you have yet to view your bill from the bursar. If you have viewed your bill please disregard this email.

Dear K, in addition to your regular course hours, please add ghost hours, and 590.

Dear K, don't forget to add 591 in addition to 590.

Dear K, 591 is incorrect you need to add 591 B.

Dear K, Please drop 591, which is now called 591 A because of 591 B.

Dear K, Again, a reminder to drop 591 A and add 591 B.

Dear K, Go back to 591 A.

Dear K, 863 was a terrible mistake and all records of 863 have been eradicated.

And we updated the syllabus. Please note that the readings for 9/21 are now the readings for 9/23 and the readings for 9/23 are for today. Reflect in your journal.

The two meanings of rhetoric:

The art of persuasion.
Bombast.

Keats, sexy beast

2009-09-16T12:16:00.000-07:00

Knowing this, Brawne's interaction with Keats is limited, so she injects herself into his life by feigning an interest in poetry.

When the Food Jars Come to Haunt

2009-09-13T15:35:00.000-07:00

After some belabored breaths, I had to close the kitchen cabinet for fear the two--three!--opened, half consumed, year old peanut butter jars would jump from their shelf to meet their due demise. In two weeks, it's moving time. We leave the apartment that stuffy hot and bitter cold and, occasionally, perfect breezes, built. We leave the apartment for a less expensive, more convenient option 10 miles closer to work. We leave the neighborhood gentrifying around us, the fusion Mexican restaurants and funky hair salons (my, what $45 can buy you), and swap one interchangeable chain coffee place on the corner for another on a Rogers Park corner.

We're not moving that far, but we're moving again. Make this my 7th move in as many years. We gain a view of the lake, a used bookstore, a free shuttle to work. I'll save time in the existential wasteland of commuting. At the same time, I'll loose the carpool time with my excellent carpool buddy. Or, I'll miss the absence of human sound on the nearly full 8am train car, watching the newspaper readers and head-drooping nappers as they default into quiet and calm.

We're leaving the back door that was kicked in, despite the deadbolt's mighty hold, on move-in day. Tony, blessed building manager Tony, had no choice but to do this, when faced with the prospect of trying each key on the telephone-pole-thick loop of unlabeled keys that went to locks that were locks no more. This is the apartment that came with a 2 x 4 to fortify the same back door. This is the apartment whose walls crumbled down to brick after a particularly relentless rainstorm one year ago this October. This was the glorious apartment T & I drove straight for, delirious from days on the road from Montana. Where the UHaul would stop, nobody knew. This is the apartment where staying immobile under a blanket in the midday cold of winter meant survival of the extremities at the expense of a productive writing day. The building's heat timer knew nobody would be home, because, why, this was the workday hour! Here, we pounded out cover letters off and on for eight months. Here I tended to write desperately voiced poetry about consumerism and then forced myself to stop deferring to tropes, even if the cold and the din of city brought these ideas by the fistful. The Carl Sandburg city "under the terrible burden of destiny, laughing as a young man laughs," bringing these images.

What we wished to consume was the tiny offering this city could afford us. Thanks for the free pesticide spray under our sinks once a month, landlord. Thanks for the sheet of ice out back, you, building manager, would break up with a sledge hammer every few days rather than fix the leaky roof drain. Thank you neighbor children enamored with our two cats, meeting us at the fence line to pet them through the links.

So I do it all again for one more year, marking time with the lease. This time, we have stairs with a bum step on the second story landing. We have a mantle. How very stately, this bathroom window painted shut. I can only hope we'll have the threat of rats and soggy walls just like last time. We'll have the breeze and light like last time.

Then and Now: MFA v. PhD So Far

2009-09-12T14:34:00.000-07:00

It's hard in these first weeks of my PhD to not think back to those first weeks of my MFA. Part of me admits an emptiness. Athens, Ohio, is a good place than people swear by, and I like it, I do, but it's not Montana. I love you Montana. And I will continue to drive with your expired tags on my car until the Ohio DMV carts me away.

And I miss my friends. I miss stumbling around Higgins, the intrepid forays into remote Montana bars, the nervous sweat of that first workshop table as we wondered if this MFA meant we could really be writers. I have talked to other MFAs and Post Traumatic MFA Disorder is a candidate for the DSM IV. It's taken me a year to level out.

This time around the giddy factor is way lower. When I got my call from Judy I was floating for about six months. The call from Ohio was more of a relief. I had somewhere to go before seeking employment from Lucky Dogs.

And stranger, somewhere along the way, I suspect with all the moving, I lost my social phobia and became reasonably well-adjusted at meeting new people. Say whaaa??? Or maybe the last year just completely broke me. I have given up so utterly, so completely that now life can begin.

People always said I seemed happy and confident but it was a painted shell, I swear. Maybe the smile on my face finally froze that way. I'm still absorbing the shock of this transition. The problem now is that most writers and academics are all socially malformed. This occurred to me at the last get together, as we stood eyes shifting, gripping plastic cups of Yellowtail Chardonnay. But at least I know now if someone acts snarky, or self-absorbed, or incapable of looking me in the eye, that this has nothing to do with me and more to do with did somebody forget their Lexipro today?

O, writers.

Socially adjusted or no, don't worry. I'm not about to chant the Kappa Gamma pledge. I'm still in search of the pariah smokers, and the person (yes, you there, hiding in the study) scraping the inside of her arm with a pin. These people shall always be my true loves.

It IS nice coming into a program with some success. If anyone tries to get snooty I can wave the Fall Gettysburg Review in their pinched little sorry face. For my MFA, I felt much more like I had to prove that I belonged. In quiet moments, alone, I feared my acceptance was a total fluke. I shook for weeks in fear my first workshop submission and couldn't look at my typewritten responses for weeks after.

I feel pretty seasoned now. Leathery, even. As I watch first years scurry to recreate the Fresh Comp wheel, I know I will simply churn through the syllabus so I can get home to write. The irony being, now that I'm relaxed in front of my students instead of hyperventilating in a paper bag, that I'm more popular teaching rhetoric than I ever was showing movies.

P is for PhD

2009-09-09T10:47:00.000-07:00

This post will be short, since it is about the first week of school, and how I have too much to do. I believe the lovely Trina Burke recently posted on this meta-dilemma of blogging. How long can I justify writing about how I don't have time to write?

I'm in the basement of the Ellis building in the computer lab. As a PhDer, I have an office with a computer that I only share with two other people, but apparently a past MAer downloaded so much porn the anti-virusware exploded.

Tech support has been called and Formula 409 wipes applied.

First week:

So far, I notice in the PhD that teaching comp is easier. Not easy. But "er." I am more prepared for what I must face. Ohio U students (seem to be) more prepared for college life than Montana kids in from the tundra. Although, I could be forgetting the hopes I had before...the first essay. So far I have received three legible emails which inspires encouragement.

I am pleased to report I do not have to teach the personal essay. No papers on hiking trips, frat boy jamborees and Keystone Lite! Yes, the personal essay is hard, and I'm glad the comp director recognizes that having it as the "easy first assignment is a bad idea.