Posts Tagged ‘writing’

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Memoir, Fiction, and Balls vs. Testicles in Literature

October 16th, 2009 by Suzanne | No Comments | Filed in mortification, writing

>I read Frank Conroy’s memoir Stop-Time for my lit seminar on Wednesday. What’s good about it is the writing. Conroy doesn’t tell his story in a linear fashion, and at times switches to the present tense. I just tried both of these techniques for a story that I handed in last week which will be workshopped on Monday, so it is nice to have another successful model to learn from. (I patterned my work on A Feather on the Breath of God by Sigrid Nunez.)

During a break from the meandering class discussion, a friend calculated that we pay $125 an hour for our classes. We resumed class. After a ten minute debate on Conroy’s use of the word “balls,” which our professor defended by saying, “Balls is a great word,” I thought about other uses I had for $20.84 I spent for that. Not that I disagree that balls is a great word or really minded talking about whether Conroy should have used “testicles” instead of balls, but still. That’s a lot of money for something I talk about for free all the time.

Speaking of balls, I posted four more chapters of Always. Chapter 9 is one of my favorites so far, and Chapter 10 (not to be confused with Chapter 10*, as I had two chapter tens) is one of the most gag-inducing. The similes flow in Chapter 11 most impressively. I actually learned a lot from myself from twenty years ago while typing up this work.

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The Point

October 15th, 2009 by Suzanne | No Comments | Filed in writing

>Author Binnie Kirshenbaum spoke at school on Monday night. She read from her latest book, The Scenic Route, which was hilarious and also troubling. During the Q&A, she relayed an anecdote that got Maurice* in a frenzy. Kirshenbaum said that she was telling her husband a story one day, and as usual, she went into a digression that she thought provided important context for the story.

“Get to the point,” her husband interrupted her.

“What do you mean, ‘get to the point?’” she asked him. “There is no point. I’m telling you a story to entertain you.”

After I stopped laughing, I thought about what that meant for me. One of the things we are always talking about at school is what the point of our work is, the “so what?” that gets people to read something. When people ask me what my point is, 99% of the time I have no answer. I just want to tell a story. Maybe, if the story is told well, that’s all the point that one needs.

Speaking of pointless, more chapters of the young adult novel I wrote when I was in 8th grade are ready to entertain (and I use that word loosely in this situation) at Always.

*Maurice is the hamster who runs on the wheel that powers my brain.

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Cheese-tastic

October 13th, 2009 by Suzanne | No Comments | Filed in mortification, writing

>My face hurts, probably due to all the cringing I did while typing up Chapters 2 – 4 of Always, the atrocious young adult book that I wrote when I was in eighth grade. Why I decided to use a male narrator is beyond me. Also puzzling: why give half the characters fake names, but then use the real names (or ridiculously close to real names – Suzannah, anyone?) for others. I wonder what Maurice* was thinking all those years ago.

What most embarrasses me and interests me about Always is the combination of how I saw myself at that time, and how I wanted to be perceived. My favorite line so far, hands down, is “I got the feeling that when Suzannah Rawlings spoke, people usually listened.” Oh man, how I wished that were true!

*The hamster who runs on the wheel that powers my brain.

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Always: Chapter 1

October 12th, 2009 by Suzanne | No Comments | Filed in writing

>For the most boring first chapter of a young adult novel in the history of young adult novels, read Chapter 1 of my first novel, “Always.” I can only excuse myself by noting that I was probably only 13 or 14 when I wrote this. Also, it sort of gets better.

Note that the description of the house in the novel is suspiciously similar to that of my parents’ house… Oh, the cringe-inducing hilarity!

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New Mottoes

September 30th, 2009 by Suzanne | No Comments | Filed in nerds, random, writing

During class on Tuesday night, I reflected on my inability to write things that are descriptive. I decided that it is because I do not think in images, but in concepts. Por ejemplo, when I think about the tree that grew in front of my parents’ house, here is my thought process:

It was taller than our humble abode and a conifer. The pine needles fell all over the driveway and any car that was parked near or under its branches. One day, Dana and I came from home school and found our neighbor chopping branches off our tree. We freaked the fuck out, but my parents were glad that he took matters into his own hands because it had become overgrown and blocked part of the driveway. My sister and I, however, felt that the tree was rendered bald and ugly by the indignity visited upon it. Years after that, my mom noticed that the branches at the crown of the tree looked lame. She asked my dad to call a tree doctor. By the time one of them finally put the call in seven years later, the tree was ridden with some sort of tree disease and past saving. It was chopped down. Now no one can find my house, as my friends used to look for the ginormous evergreen tree as a landmark.

While this is a very nice story, it is not terribly descriptive. Anyway, once I realized that I do not think in images, and images are central to writing that is “literary,” I realized that “I am about as literary as a potato sprouting eyes.” (Actually, I love that image. Potatoes with “eyes” gross me out and fascinate me.) Without writing images, it is hard to include metaphors in my stories. Seriously, I would not think to include a metaphor if one walked up to me at a cocktail party, introduced itself politely, and then punched me in the face when I did not recognize it. If I was to write a metaphor about the tree, it would be something cheesy like, “The tree was an angel that guarded our house against the darkness of the night that wasn’t really all that dark because we faced a busy highway that was brightly illuminated by street lights.” No good.

Despite my lack of “literary” credentials, I think I can write well in a few styles. Hence my other new motto is, “This cubic zirconium has many facets.” Bwa ha ha ha. Fuck being literary.

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>So, What Do You Do?

July 15th, 2009 by Suzanne | No Comments | Filed in writing

>”So, what do you do?”

It’s a common question. I just no longer have a good answer for it. A few years ago, it was easy. I puffed up my chest and told people that I work at a nonprofit agency on public policy and programs.

Now I could also answer that I’m a writer, although I don’t feel like a writer. Writers are people who write every day, whether or not they earn a living from it. Sometimes there are days when I don’t write a word other than what is on my to do list. I was thinking about how much like a poser I feel when I tell people that I’m a writer, and then I realized that I was narrating what scene in my head. Maybe constantly thinking like a writer to qualifies me as a writer, even if I don’t write daily?

The funny thing is that I still think of myself as a policy person even though I don’t do anything policy related on a daily basis, either. But just as I narrate things in my head on an ongoing basis, I think about policy every day. I certainly don’t feel like a pretentious douche (scent: Summer Rain) when I tell people that I’m currently unemployed and looking for a job in public policy or program management the way I do when I say, “I’m a writer.”

The difference, I’m thinking now, is that being good at your job as a writer is a lot more subjective than as a policy person/program manager. In the latter, it is obvious if you understand what is going on in the world and whether you are good at it or not. Obviously, there’s a baseline for writing, but it is a lot more subjective as to whether one is good at it.

Just thinking while suffering from insomnia for no discernible reason…

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>"The Lost"

June 19th, 2009 by Suzanne | No Comments | Filed in random, writing

>On my way back from visiting my sister in Iowa, I read two books: On Writing by Stephen King (excellent – both entertaining and helpful) and The Lost by Daniel Mendelsohn. The Lost is about Mendelsohn’s family history and his obsession with learning what happened to his grandfather’s brother and his family during the Holocaust. Unfortunately, it is also about historical, current, and personal interpretations of the Five Books of Moses, and semi-related sibling rivalry stories. Also, the style includes a lot of repetition in storytelling after a tangent (just like listening to someone tell a story with lots of tangents) and dramatic foreshadowing (i.e. – “But I couldn’t have know what would happen next.”) I felt like Mendelsohn should have read On Writing.

That said, the core of the story is well written and very compelling to me. Plus, I learned important lessons for my own writing. I love me some tangents, but too many of them are distracting. I also always try to cram semi-related stories into my narratives, but now I see why that doesn’t work. If The Lost had been about 100-150 pages shorter, it would have been brilliant. (On the other hand, it won a National Book Critic Circle award, so don’t take my word for it.)

Reading stories about the Holocaust always makes me restless. Like Mendelsohn, I want to know what happened to my grandfather’s family. When I discovered in 2005 that one of his brothers-in-law actually survived and moved to Israel after the war, it was a breakthrough. But that gentleman died in the early 1980s, and none of his relatives knew anything about my family, although they are lovely people and I am glad that I met them. I’ve always believed that not knowing what happened to someone is one of the hardest things that people deal with. The human mind craves closure.

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>Writing about Pubic Hair Removal Restores My Good Spirits

June 1st, 2009 by Suzanne | No Comments | Filed in writing

>I woke up this morning grumpy and unsettled. With all the serious shit that is going on in the world, like the assassination of Dr. George Tiller and the amount of money that banks are spending to lobby against sensible regulation, I feared that I could not do a good job on my BlogHer topic of the day, pubic hair shaving. Oddly enough, once I got going with my old friend, I felt a lot better. If you can’t mock the crap out of pubic hair removal, what can you mock?

Plus, this latest BlogHer post is the third that I wrote in the past three weeks that returned me to my humor roots. In the last year, I’ve become so serious. I started blogging and writing almost four years ago (!) to find a funny outlet for my anger. It’s nice to go back to that.

More bad jokes, less frustration!

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>Three Cheers for Maurice

April 10th, 2009 by Suzanne | No Comments | Filed in Damn, writing

>Frankly, I’m in deep shit. I think that working full-time, attending a full-time master’s program in creative writing, drafting two posts a week for BlogHer, serving on the Board of a nonprofit child care center that has real estate issues, attempting healthy-ish lifestyle through exercise, and continuing to have relationships with friends and family (which I am failing at miserably in some cases) is maybe more than I can handle. For the last two weeks, I’ve been exhausted constantly.

It’s not just me who needs a break. Maurice, the hamster who runs on the wheel that powers my brain, is on strike. At first I was mad at his furry ass for not keeping up, thus resulting in me making big mistakes like handing in the same story twice (written in two different ways, since I didn’t remember writing it in the first place) or smaller errors like when I called Oedipus Odysseus in yesterday’s blog post. Now I realize that the little dude is just overworked.

Maurice and I used to take breaks to read friends’ blogs or watch mindless TV. These days, I need to think for more hours, whether to learn about the nuances of Obama’s foreclosure prevention plan or to answer questions about a book I read for class, and poor little Maurice runs nonstop from when I wake up until I go to sleep. That’s a lot for any brain hamster, let alone a 33 year old one. So I want to thank him publicly for hanging in there. (Thanks Maurice!)

I need to take a hard look at everything that’s on my plate. I know what I want to cut, but Husband is not on board with that plan. If only I could write a book and sell it for six-figures, like, say fucking Meghan McCain,* that would solve everything. Uh, right….

*Love Jossip’s suggested title about Ann Coulter, as does Maurice.

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>Maybe the Childhood Concussions Did Have an Effect…

March 25th, 2009 by Suzanne | No Comments | Filed in fuck, mortification, writing

>A surge of excitement ran through me as my lit professor handed back our papers from the previous class. I had worked extra hard on mine, and thought that it was one of the best things I had written in a while. In addition to telling the story of my best friend from 4th grade and exploring racism in my hometown, it had metaphors!

The professor generally keeps the papers she likes best at the top of the pile, so I was a bit disconcerted when mine came in the middle of the stack. Looking it over, I was struck by the lack of comments on it. “Oh my God,” I fretted. “She hated it!” In the following nanoseconds, I realized that I was a talentless hack who should drop out of school and never show my face again. Then I decided that it might be more productive to ask her why she didn’t like it.

“Oh, I always look forward to reading your work,” she replied. “But I read this one already, so I was disappointed that it wasn’t anything new.”

“What? You did?” I urged the hamster to run more quickly on the wheel that powers my brain so that I could figure out how this was possible. Maurice grunted at me before reluctantly picking up the pace.

“Yes, this is a nice expansion of something you handed in earlier in the semester.”

I frowned. I knew that I had been thinking about this particular story for a few weeks, but I was pretty sure that it hadn’t left my head until I wrote the paper I now clutched in my bony hand. Finally, Maurice got his furry ass in gear and I realized that I had, in fact, handed in the same basic story my second week of class. Worse, I had just looked at that first story again on Monday night, and thought about where I wanted to go with it, making no connection to the fleshed out version that I eagerly anticipated receiving back on Wednesday night.

Very, very scary. I would think that I completely have lost it, except that I think that Maurice threw some information out of the mental filing cabinet to make room for all the details I learned about the Obama administration’s mortgage refinancing and loan modification program. (I am a very good resource on this!) Still, not good.

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