Every week lately, I hear from or read about an acquaintance or two who have lost jobs in journalism, editorial, media, or publishing due to downsizing, closures, mergers and other situations. Recently, a laid-off friend and I compiled a list of job boards and resources. For anyone it may help, I'm posting it here. It's by no means comprehensive and is more reflective of that friend's current interests; but with the economy as it is, I can't see keeping it to myself.
http://www.mediabistro.com/joblistings/
http://www.publishersmarketplace.com/jobs/
http://jobs.foliomag.com/careers/jobsearch
http://writesuccess.com/id25.html
http://www.filcro.com/page9.htm
http://mastheads.jobamatic.com/a/jbb/find-jobs
http://www.asbpe.org/jobs/jobsites.htm
http://www.bookjobs.com/searchjobs.php
http://www.mediajobmarket.com/jobs/index.jsp
http://journalismjobs.com/
http://minonline.com/mediajobs/
http://www.freelancewritinggigs.com/
http://writejobs.com/
Here's hoping you don't (and won't) need it. If you do, I hope you find something that is in at least some important way better than what you left behind.
Friday, October 17, 2008
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Author Q/A: Laura Shumaker on Writing About Sons, Publishing Surprises, and When NOT to Schedule a Reading
Memoirs about raising sons – all kind of memoirs, all kinds of sons – are one of my weaknesses. I collect them the way my teenager hoards NASCAR tee shirts and my10-year-old accumulates Pokemon cards. I know I may never get to all of them; that's not the point. I have to have them.
By way of a mutual writer friend, Laura Shumaker's memoir, A Regular Guy: Growing Up With Autism, landed on my desk this summer, got moved around from office to bedside table and back, resided for a week in my car, where I can read for 15 minutes each afternoon while in the school pick up queue. As with most memoirs, I didn't want to start it until I knew I'd have time to finish. Then I read it in two short sittings last weekend and I knew I wanted to interview Laura.
LR: Your book covers so much ground, from before Matthew was born until his 18th birthday. What was your biggest challenge as a writer in selecting which events and scenes out of the vast store of family memories to write about? And as a mother?
Laura Shumkaer: When I first started writing what I thought was “the book,” it was a collection of stories--sort of like an anthology--about being a mother of an autistic child. I arranged the stories semi-chronologically and showed them to an editor, Alan Rinzler. He encouraged me to change it to a continuing narrative with a beginning, middle and end. It was then I had to think about what readers would want to know about me and my family. I thought it was important to show how my history, growing up in a loving family affected by tragedy and knowing early on that I wanted to be a MOTHER, was important. I tried to stay focused on the memories that would add to the story.
LR: I felt a close rapport with you as the mother-narrator especially through your use of italics to frame your gut reactions, acknowledging the sometimes unsavory thoughts we mothers have when outsiders make judgments about our children. What impressed was your restraint in using this device so that each use has an impact. I'm curious how you came to deploy this device, whether it was there from the start, or did it evolve in revisions?
LS: In the beginning, I wrote long explanatory sentences about how I was feeling, what I was doing--so much emotional calamity. It seemed awfully wordy and defensive, so I decided to try the old “show don’t tell” and the italics showed what I was thinking, which I thought was more effective.
LR: Writing about one's children and spouse and about family history is fraught with landmines, some anticipated, others often unexpected. Can you talk about how you navigated this difficult terrain? Did you let your husband and/or sons react to the book before it was published?
LS: I took a class from a writer who joked about being sued by her family after each of her books was published. I wanted to tell the truth, but I wanted to do it in the context of our situation. In one chapter, I tell about the time my husband lost it with Matthew. They were punching and kicking each other and I had to call 911 to break it up. Instead of making my husband look like a child abuser, I showed how exasperating Matthew can be, how frustrating it was for my husband to connect with him, and the remorse both felt after the fight. When Peter (my husband) read that chapter, he was very moved and appreciated how I portrayed him. Both he and my son Andy read every chapter and helped me express the truth. One funny thing--in one chapter, I talk about breast feeding, and Andy begged me to take it out.
LR: What has the reaction been from family members, neighbors and others who know your family and Matthew?
LS: My family loved the book. My husband and my son Andy both cried when they read it from beginning to end. Andy said “Wow. You really knew how hard it was for me.” That was very cool. I was surprised that some friends and acquaintances felt guilty after reading the book because they thought they hadn’t done enough to support me along the way. I’ve also noticed that some friends and acquaintances have been avoiding me, so either they are judging me or they think I targeted them!
LR: You open yourself to possible criticism when you write about being just too tired and worn down to try yet another "solution" for Matthew. While parents of special needs kids will relate completely, were you concerned about the reactions of others?
LS: I thought it was important to tackle this issue honestly. When you have a special needs child, some well-meaning friends, family and remote acquaintances have stories about what other people in your same situation have done, bless their hearts, they have stopped at nothing blah, blah, blah and look how great their kid is doing. As for showing my flaws, I knew that readers would relate to me better if I told the truth. I think that readers could feel my fatigue and desperation.
LR: Some writers who've written about their children's struggles are accused of exploiting their family for career advancement. How does one deal with those emotions and practical considerations?
LS: I felt like I didn’t exploit anyone, but explained them. When in doubt, I left out incriminating stories because I felt that being defensive would take away from the story. I tried to show that Matthew was a challenge even in the best of circumstances.
LR: At one point you eavesdrop on your sons Andy and John, telling "Matthew stories." I thought this was an effective way to allow another point-of-view and show the brothers' affection for Matthew without that cloying "aren't my boys fabulous" tone. Another move I liked was the switch to present tense for a chapter detailing the tediousness of a day at home with an unpredictable teenage Matthew, who's scattered and unmoored. I'm always curious if writers make these choices organically or if they result from a dilemma during rewriting.
LS: Once again, “show don’t tell.” Especially the present tense story. I really wanted readers to know what a typical day with Matthew was like!
LR: As a first time author, what surprised you most?
LS: I’m surprised by how hard it is to get a book published. I’m amazed by the bad books that get published and the good ones that don’t. I’m thrilled by the people I’ve met now that I’m a writer.
LR: What led you to publish your book independently?
LS: After my manuscript and book proposal were ready, it took about four months to get an agent, Jill Marsal of Sandra Dijkstra. I thought I was set. Jill was a great agent and loved my project, as did the other agents at Dijkstra, but was not able to find a publisher. We came close several times, but it seemed all of the editors who were interested wanted to turn my memoir into a "how I cured my son" book. They said that autism memoirs didn't sell well unless they had a prescriptive element.
I decided to self publish, because I was scheduled to speak at a number of conferences and didn't want to lose out. Once I had my book designed and put together, I sent it out to a few more agents and April Eberhardt of Reese Halsey North, in her words "snapped it up". She is pitching it to traditional publishers, and while I'm hopeful, I'm realistic. It's a numbers game, and the Jenny McCarthys of the world will sell more books regardless of quality than a first time 50ish author like me! While the book is selling well, it is hard to get the distribution that I would with a traditional publisher.
LR: Have you done a lot of readings? Does your family get involved?
LS: Funny you should ask! I was just in Chicago where I did a reading at a developmental center the same night and the same time as the second McCain/Obama debate. I had nine people in the audience and sold ONE book. I’ve had many others, though, and am scheduled for many more.
I love readings and author appearances. They are the best way to sell books. I usually read three chapters and then take questions and the questions go on for an hour or more. My husband and son John go to all my readings and are very active in the Q and A. (Andy is in college back east, and Matthew chooses not to attend, but tells everyone that he is famous because his mother loved him so much that she wrote a book about him.)
I have several California readings coming up in November for A Regular Guy (details on my website). During October, I'm doing a few readings from a new anthology, Writin' on Empty: Parents Reveal the Upside, Downside, and Everything In Between When Children Leave the Nest.
LR: What's next? Are you at work on a new writing project?
LS: I’m ghost writing a book with an autism specialist--it’s a great learning experience and profitable, but what I really want to do is write a sequel that weaves Matthew's, Andy's and John’s stories together.
Note: You can find an excerpt of Laura's book here and an essay Laura wrote for the San Francisco Chronicle here.
By way of a mutual writer friend, Laura Shumaker's memoir, A Regular Guy: Growing Up With Autism, landed on my desk this summer, got moved around from office to bedside table and back, resided for a week in my car, where I can read for 15 minutes each afternoon while in the school pick up queue. As with most memoirs, I didn't want to start it until I knew I'd have time to finish. Then I read it in two short sittings last weekend and I knew I wanted to interview Laura.
LR: Your book covers so much ground, from before Matthew was born until his 18th birthday. What was your biggest challenge as a writer in selecting which events and scenes out of the vast store of family memories to write about? And as a mother?
Laura Shumkaer: When I first started writing what I thought was “the book,” it was a collection of stories--sort of like an anthology--about being a mother of an autistic child. I arranged the stories semi-chronologically and showed them to an editor, Alan Rinzler. He encouraged me to change it to a continuing narrative with a beginning, middle and end. It was then I had to think about what readers would want to know about me and my family. I thought it was important to show how my history, growing up in a loving family affected by tragedy and knowing early on that I wanted to be a MOTHER, was important. I tried to stay focused on the memories that would add to the story.
LR: I felt a close rapport with you as the mother-narrator especially through your use of italics to frame your gut reactions, acknowledging the sometimes unsavory thoughts we mothers have when outsiders make judgments about our children. What impressed was your restraint in using this device so that each use has an impact. I'm curious how you came to deploy this device, whether it was there from the start, or did it evolve in revisions?
LS: In the beginning, I wrote long explanatory sentences about how I was feeling, what I was doing--so much emotional calamity. It seemed awfully wordy and defensive, so I decided to try the old “show don’t tell” and the italics showed what I was thinking, which I thought was more effective.
LR: Writing about one's children and spouse and about family history is fraught with landmines, some anticipated, others often unexpected. Can you talk about how you navigated this difficult terrain? Did you let your husband and/or sons react to the book before it was published?
LS: I took a class from a writer who joked about being sued by her family after each of her books was published. I wanted to tell the truth, but I wanted to do it in the context of our situation. In one chapter, I tell about the time my husband lost it with Matthew. They were punching and kicking each other and I had to call 911 to break it up. Instead of making my husband look like a child abuser, I showed how exasperating Matthew can be, how frustrating it was for my husband to connect with him, and the remorse both felt after the fight. When Peter (my husband) read that chapter, he was very moved and appreciated how I portrayed him. Both he and my son Andy read every chapter and helped me express the truth. One funny thing--in one chapter, I talk about breast feeding, and Andy begged me to take it out.
LR: What has the reaction been from family members, neighbors and others who know your family and Matthew?
LS: My family loved the book. My husband and my son Andy both cried when they read it from beginning to end. Andy said “Wow. You really knew how hard it was for me.” That was very cool. I was surprised that some friends and acquaintances felt guilty after reading the book because they thought they hadn’t done enough to support me along the way. I’ve also noticed that some friends and acquaintances have been avoiding me, so either they are judging me or they think I targeted them!
LR: You open yourself to possible criticism when you write about being just too tired and worn down to try yet another "solution" for Matthew. While parents of special needs kids will relate completely, were you concerned about the reactions of others?
LS: I thought it was important to tackle this issue honestly. When you have a special needs child, some well-meaning friends, family and remote acquaintances have stories about what other people in your same situation have done, bless their hearts, they have stopped at nothing blah, blah, blah and look how great their kid is doing. As for showing my flaws, I knew that readers would relate to me better if I told the truth. I think that readers could feel my fatigue and desperation.
LR: Some writers who've written about their children's struggles are accused of exploiting their family for career advancement. How does one deal with those emotions and practical considerations?
LS: I felt like I didn’t exploit anyone, but explained them. When in doubt, I left out incriminating stories because I felt that being defensive would take away from the story. I tried to show that Matthew was a challenge even in the best of circumstances.
LR: At one point you eavesdrop on your sons Andy and John, telling "Matthew stories." I thought this was an effective way to allow another point-of-view and show the brothers' affection for Matthew without that cloying "aren't my boys fabulous" tone. Another move I liked was the switch to present tense for a chapter detailing the tediousness of a day at home with an unpredictable teenage Matthew, who's scattered and unmoored. I'm always curious if writers make these choices organically or if they result from a dilemma during rewriting.
LS: Once again, “show don’t tell.” Especially the present tense story. I really wanted readers to know what a typical day with Matthew was like!
LR: As a first time author, what surprised you most?
LS: I’m surprised by how hard it is to get a book published. I’m amazed by the bad books that get published and the good ones that don’t. I’m thrilled by the people I’ve met now that I’m a writer.
LR: What led you to publish your book independently?
LS: After my manuscript and book proposal were ready, it took about four months to get an agent, Jill Marsal of Sandra Dijkstra. I thought I was set. Jill was a great agent and loved my project, as did the other agents at Dijkstra, but was not able to find a publisher. We came close several times, but it seemed all of the editors who were interested wanted to turn my memoir into a "how I cured my son" book. They said that autism memoirs didn't sell well unless they had a prescriptive element.
I decided to self publish, because I was scheduled to speak at a number of conferences and didn't want to lose out. Once I had my book designed and put together, I sent it out to a few more agents and April Eberhardt of Reese Halsey North, in her words "snapped it up". She is pitching it to traditional publishers, and while I'm hopeful, I'm realistic. It's a numbers game, and the Jenny McCarthys of the world will sell more books regardless of quality than a first time 50ish author like me! While the book is selling well, it is hard to get the distribution that I would with a traditional publisher.
LR: Have you done a lot of readings? Does your family get involved?
LS: Funny you should ask! I was just in Chicago where I did a reading at a developmental center the same night and the same time as the second McCain/Obama debate. I had nine people in the audience and sold ONE book. I’ve had many others, though, and am scheduled for many more.
I love readings and author appearances. They are the best way to sell books. I usually read three chapters and then take questions and the questions go on for an hour or more. My husband and son John go to all my readings and are very active in the Q and A. (Andy is in college back east, and Matthew chooses not to attend, but tells everyone that he is famous because his mother loved him so much that she wrote a book about him.)
I have several California readings coming up in November for A Regular Guy (details on my website). During October, I'm doing a few readings from a new anthology, Writin' on Empty: Parents Reveal the Upside, Downside, and Everything In Between When Children Leave the Nest.
LR: What's next? Are you at work on a new writing project?
LS: I’m ghost writing a book with an autism specialist--it’s a great learning experience and profitable, but what I really want to do is write a sequel that weaves Matthew's, Andy's and John’s stories together.
Note: You can find an excerpt of Laura's book here and an essay Laura wrote for the San Francisco Chronicle here.
Thursday, October 9, 2008
Jobs, Novels, NaNoWriMo, Write-a-Thon, Poetry in Jersey, Agents and the Fabulous Nancy Mairs. Phew.
►Yeah, I'm not a big Gawker fan either. But this seemed to pretty accurately sum up the sad state of the journalism/media job market. A more helpful, if not entirely cheerful destination is this site, where all in one spot one can find nearly 100 links to job boards, salary charts, publishing company evaluations by former/current employees, and more on-the-job-hunt resources (resume examples, etc.).
►Anyone out there taking the NaNoWriMo plunge this November? If a month is too much to commit to, check out this Write-a-thon, for just one day, and for a good cause too. (Not that kick-starting a novel isn't a good cause, but this one involves boosting Dzanc Books' nonprofit program putting writers in the schools.)
►I've been exploring the literary landscape around northern New Jersey lately, and while I already knew that my neighboring community of Montclair is heavily populated with authors, journalists, broadcasters, editors and media pros, I was also pleased to find, for example, that a few miles in the other direction, in the grittier cities of Passaic and Paterson, poetry activities are thriving.
►I heard three of those Montclair writer/editors (see above!) talk about memoir writing and getting published at Watchung Booksellers a few weeks ago and had been planning to post some of their good tips. I got sidetracked and though I still plan to pass on some of what I learned that night, in the meantime, here's a quick video of David Henry Sterry speaking as part of another panel at an iconic independent NYC bookstore, on snaring an agent.
►Essayist, memoirist and poet Nancy Mairs, over on her publisher Beacon Press's blog, talks about her writing life, on the occasion of receiving the 2008 Arizona Literary Treasure Award. She titled her piece, "How I Became a Treasure," and it's a great read, tinged with all of her wonderful gifts for understatement, bemusement and simple yet compelling narrative.
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
Author Q/A: Penelope Schwartz Robinson on Publishing an Essay Collection and Slippery Men
Penelope Schwartz Robinson's first book (already favorably reviewed), is the essay collection Slippery Men, winner of the Stonecoast Book Prize, and published this month by New Rivers Press. Penelope teaches creative writing at University of Maine Farmington, and is a 2004 graduate of USM's Stonecoast MFA program. Our time at Stonecoast did not overlap, but we have a number of writer friends in common, and I got to know Penelope when she visited Stonecoast during residencies and by sharing meals, ideas and walks together at writers conferences from Iowa to New York over the last year. I was thrilled to hear that she recently was awarded a $13,000 Maine Individual Artist Fellowship, and I can't wait for her book to launch this month. She took some time out this past weekend to answer my questions.
LR: Penelope, you've done something thought virtually impossible for literary nonfiction writers -- getting an essay collection published without being an already established author. You must be feeling pretty great about that.
Penelope Schwartz Robinson: It’s amazing! An essay collection is very hard to place. Usually a writer publishes something else—a memoir for instance—and then is asked “do you have anything else?” And that’s when it’s possible to put up a collection. I am enormously grateful this has worked the other way around for me because I think the collection showcases different strengths of mine that might not have been so apparent in a more “cohesive” piece of work.
LR: Can you talk a bit about how the book came together? Did some of the essays come out of your work in the MFA program?
PSR: Five of the seven essays in the book originated in Stonecoast workshops; however, each has been significantly revised post-Stonecoast. The other two are excerpted from two book-length projects I worked on after Stonecoast. The overall vision was cast with the MFA thesis because it also was titled Slippery Men and my selective process of the many pieces of work I had to choose from was shaped by the title.
LR: Can you describe what life has been like in the months, weeks and days leading up to the publication date? Enjoyable, frantic or both?
PSR: I wasn’t sure what to expect. In the beginning, it was very quiet. New Rivers Press is a teaching press which means I worked with a team of college students from Minnesota State University at Moorhead in the initial phases. This is a situation which requires a good deal of author patience. The team was very enthusiastic. In the end, everything came together. NRP is fortunate to have Donna Carlson as its Managing Editor. She had the enormous responsibility of wrangling the student team and working with the author— both of which she handled beautifully. She was thorough and flexible and I credit her with everything good about the finished product. As for the timetable, things heated up a little as we approached the publication date, but not too appreciably.
LR: You have a reading coming up in Boston (Oct. 14) as well as in New York City (Oct. 29). In what ways, if any, do you prepare differently for a Manhattan audience?
PSR: I have read previously a couple of times in New York City. I don’t prepare terribly differently, but since I am something of a “nature” writer, I do tend to tone that down for a city audience and go with material which is a little less “outdoorsy.”
LR: Many essayists (me included) and memoirists struggle with putting their relatives and friends on the page. How did you deal with that? Talk to them about it? Get an OK? Change names and details? Let them read it first in draft form? Just plunge ahead hope for the best?
PSR: Writing about friends and relatives (and people who just happen to cross one’s path) is definitely a challenge. In a general response to your question: none of the above. I don’t ask anyone’s permission and I don’t let anyone read drafts. (So far.) I have a couple of ground rules: when I’m writing about people who didn’t ask to be included in my (writing) life—as for instance “Elliot” in “Mucking About”— I change their names. The same is true for friends. I do not write about my daughters—unless the work is undisputedly positive. I don’t write about my husband. Parents, because they are so formative, I believe have to be placed carefully on the page. My father, as an example, has recently died and so did not see the piece I wrote about him. My stepmother, however, is another matter and I am concerned that she will be offended by this work. I have tried to prepare her and, as you say, shall hope for the best. My mother is still living and I have written a great deal about her which I will not publish during her lifetime.
LR: As you know, I finished an MFA a few months ago and I'm in my late 40s; so it's wonderful and hopeful for me to see a graduate of the same program who is older than me, getting her first book published a few years post-MFA. What advice, if any, do you have for fellow writers getting started at a certain age?
PSR: The line I begin almost every interview with is, “I’m a late bloomer.” It has been enormously gratifying to me to achieve recognition during my mid-to-late sixties. I spent a good deal of my life putting off my own creativity in the service of others. Now, I don’t regret that because I learned so much that allowed me to move ahead with a voice of my own. A voice, I believe, that would not have found utterance even ten years ago.
My involvement with the Saturday Morning Club is an important part of not only my development, but also my ability to believe in it happening later in life. I’ve been a member of this extraordinary group of women since 1988. Founded by Julia Ward Howe in 1871, the Saturday Morning Club provides a forum for women to present personal philosophical and literary expression. We meet every Saturday at the Harvard Club in Boston from October to April; each member reads aloud a 25-30 page “paper” annually. When I was invited to join, I was forty-eight years old and the baby of the group. It was enormously important for me to see women in their sixties, seventies, eighties, even nineties, who were alive and vibrant. I credit the Saturday Morning Club with giving me a vision of what was still possible for me.
LR: Your essay about your father's aging especially speaks to me, as this is a theme I've been exploring as well. It really all starts with our Dads, doesn't it – our relationship with all the men in our lives, slippery or not?
PSR: In my case, although I have written about my father, that’s easier for me to do than to write about my mother, where the real conflict lies. But men. Yes. At least for me, most of the major decisions, choices, postures in my adult life were made in response to men.
LR: Since you teach at the college level, I imagine you need some pretty definite structure to your own writing time. Can you dish on where, when, how often, etc.?
PSR: This semester I’m not teaching so I have a really wonderful schedule, structured exactly as I like it: up at 4:30-5, write, meditate, move around words until 6. Breakfast, walk the dog, read the paper. Back at the desk from 9-12. Sometimes I’ll do a little more work in the afternoon, but essentially, I’m a morning person. Cooking is a vital part of my life and so every afternoon I go to the market and from 4 on, am involved in making dinner. I don’t strive for a particular number of pages, but I do need to run a few words through my fingers and my head every day. I thrive on structure and this semester I have it. There is no question but that teaching, especially college teaching, disrupts the creative cycle. I, at least, find it hard to switch gears. Also, since I teach creative writing, I have to shake my students’ words out of my head before approaching my own. And there’s no real boundary for the contemporary teacher: on any given day, I’ll get twenty to fifty e-mails from students, some in the middle of the night, and all requiring considerable response.
LR: What's on your reading table right now, and on the to-be-read list? And is it as frustrating to you as it is to me, that one never gets enough time to read everything one wants?
PSR: I consider my reading just as important as my writing— perhaps more so. I find I read entirely differently now from the way I used to: I really read like a writer, which means my reading is much more concentrated and if more intense infinitely more rewarding. I’ve been on a Richard Preston kick. He wrote The Wild Trees, about climbing the redwoods, an absolutely fantastic book. I read that a couple of years ago and this summer I caught up with his The Hot Zone and The Demon in the Freezer, books he calls part of his “black biology” series. I also love Simon Winchester and I’m just about to finish his latest, The Man Who Loved China. Those are all literary nonfiction. I have also been reading, from time to time, various “illness” memoirs as research for a project I’m working on.
In fiction, I’ve been indulging myself with Wallace Stegner (about whom I’m writing my Saturday Morning Club paper for December), one of my literary heartthrobs. I re-read Angle of Repose, a novel I greatly admire. Read Redemption, The Big Rock Candy Mountain and Where the Bluebird Sings to the Lemonade Springs, which is a collection of essays about the West. This is what I’ve been reading since July. I don’t exactly have a to-read list. I tend to pick things up as I go along. But I certainly agree, there is never enough time to read all the books one wants to. Recently I decided I need to re-read Norman Mailer, but I haven’t taken that on yet.
LR: What's next writing-wise?
PSR: I am working on a book-length project about assisting a friend through the initial terminal diagnosis to her death from uterine cancer. I have just received funding for this project from the Maine Arts Commission (a “Good Idea Grant”). It’s a little hard going because it’s intense, but I am moving on it. I have also been given her diaries by the family and I am going through this material to incorporate it into my text.
LR: Penelope, you've done something thought virtually impossible for literary nonfiction writers -- getting an essay collection published without being an already established author. You must be feeling pretty great about that.
Penelope Schwartz Robinson: It’s amazing! An essay collection is very hard to place. Usually a writer publishes something else—a memoir for instance—and then is asked “do you have anything else?” And that’s when it’s possible to put up a collection. I am enormously grateful this has worked the other way around for me because I think the collection showcases different strengths of mine that might not have been so apparent in a more “cohesive” piece of work.
LR: Can you talk a bit about how the book came together? Did some of the essays come out of your work in the MFA program?
PSR: Five of the seven essays in the book originated in Stonecoast workshops; however, each has been significantly revised post-Stonecoast. The other two are excerpted from two book-length projects I worked on after Stonecoast. The overall vision was cast with the MFA thesis because it also was titled Slippery Men and my selective process of the many pieces of work I had to choose from was shaped by the title.
LR: Can you describe what life has been like in the months, weeks and days leading up to the publication date? Enjoyable, frantic or both?
PSR: I wasn’t sure what to expect. In the beginning, it was very quiet. New Rivers Press is a teaching press which means I worked with a team of college students from Minnesota State University at Moorhead in the initial phases. This is a situation which requires a good deal of author patience. The team was very enthusiastic. In the end, everything came together. NRP is fortunate to have Donna Carlson as its Managing Editor. She had the enormous responsibility of wrangling the student team and working with the author— both of which she handled beautifully. She was thorough and flexible and I credit her with everything good about the finished product. As for the timetable, things heated up a little as we approached the publication date, but not too appreciably.
LR: You have a reading coming up in Boston (Oct. 14) as well as in New York City (Oct. 29). In what ways, if any, do you prepare differently for a Manhattan audience?
PSR: I have read previously a couple of times in New York City. I don’t prepare terribly differently, but since I am something of a “nature” writer, I do tend to tone that down for a city audience and go with material which is a little less “outdoorsy.”
LR: Many essayists (me included) and memoirists struggle with putting their relatives and friends on the page. How did you deal with that? Talk to them about it? Get an OK? Change names and details? Let them read it first in draft form? Just plunge ahead hope for the best?
PSR: Writing about friends and relatives (and people who just happen to cross one’s path) is definitely a challenge. In a general response to your question: none of the above. I don’t ask anyone’s permission and I don’t let anyone read drafts. (So far.) I have a couple of ground rules: when I’m writing about people who didn’t ask to be included in my (writing) life—as for instance “Elliot” in “Mucking About”— I change their names. The same is true for friends. I do not write about my daughters—unless the work is undisputedly positive. I don’t write about my husband. Parents, because they are so formative, I believe have to be placed carefully on the page. My father, as an example, has recently died and so did not see the piece I wrote about him. My stepmother, however, is another matter and I am concerned that she will be offended by this work. I have tried to prepare her and, as you say, shall hope for the best. My mother is still living and I have written a great deal about her which I will not publish during her lifetime.
LR: As you know, I finished an MFA a few months ago and I'm in my late 40s; so it's wonderful and hopeful for me to see a graduate of the same program who is older than me, getting her first book published a few years post-MFA. What advice, if any, do you have for fellow writers getting started at a certain age?
PSR: The line I begin almost every interview with is, “I’m a late bloomer.” It has been enormously gratifying to me to achieve recognition during my mid-to-late sixties. I spent a good deal of my life putting off my own creativity in the service of others. Now, I don’t regret that because I learned so much that allowed me to move ahead with a voice of my own. A voice, I believe, that would not have found utterance even ten years ago.
My involvement with the Saturday Morning Club is an important part of not only my development, but also my ability to believe in it happening later in life. I’ve been a member of this extraordinary group of women since 1988. Founded by Julia Ward Howe in 1871, the Saturday Morning Club provides a forum for women to present personal philosophical and literary expression. We meet every Saturday at the Harvard Club in Boston from October to April; each member reads aloud a 25-30 page “paper” annually. When I was invited to join, I was forty-eight years old and the baby of the group. It was enormously important for me to see women in their sixties, seventies, eighties, even nineties, who were alive and vibrant. I credit the Saturday Morning Club with giving me a vision of what was still possible for me.
LR: Your essay about your father's aging especially speaks to me, as this is a theme I've been exploring as well. It really all starts with our Dads, doesn't it – our relationship with all the men in our lives, slippery or not?
PSR: In my case, although I have written about my father, that’s easier for me to do than to write about my mother, where the real conflict lies. But men. Yes. At least for me, most of the major decisions, choices, postures in my adult life were made in response to men.
LR: Since you teach at the college level, I imagine you need some pretty definite structure to your own writing time. Can you dish on where, when, how often, etc.?
PSR: This semester I’m not teaching so I have a really wonderful schedule, structured exactly as I like it: up at 4:30-5, write, meditate, move around words until 6. Breakfast, walk the dog, read the paper. Back at the desk from 9-12. Sometimes I’ll do a little more work in the afternoon, but essentially, I’m a morning person. Cooking is a vital part of my life and so every afternoon I go to the market and from 4 on, am involved in making dinner. I don’t strive for a particular number of pages, but I do need to run a few words through my fingers and my head every day. I thrive on structure and this semester I have it. There is no question but that teaching, especially college teaching, disrupts the creative cycle. I, at least, find it hard to switch gears. Also, since I teach creative writing, I have to shake my students’ words out of my head before approaching my own. And there’s no real boundary for the contemporary teacher: on any given day, I’ll get twenty to fifty e-mails from students, some in the middle of the night, and all requiring considerable response.
LR: What's on your reading table right now, and on the to-be-read list? And is it as frustrating to you as it is to me, that one never gets enough time to read everything one wants?
PSR: I consider my reading just as important as my writing— perhaps more so. I find I read entirely differently now from the way I used to: I really read like a writer, which means my reading is much more concentrated and if more intense infinitely more rewarding. I’ve been on a Richard Preston kick. He wrote The Wild Trees, about climbing the redwoods, an absolutely fantastic book. I read that a couple of years ago and this summer I caught up with his The Hot Zone and The Demon in the Freezer, books he calls part of his “black biology” series. I also love Simon Winchester and I’m just about to finish his latest, The Man Who Loved China. Those are all literary nonfiction. I have also been reading, from time to time, various “illness” memoirs as research for a project I’m working on.
In fiction, I’ve been indulging myself with Wallace Stegner (about whom I’m writing my Saturday Morning Club paper for December), one of my literary heartthrobs. I re-read Angle of Repose, a novel I greatly admire. Read Redemption, The Big Rock Candy Mountain and Where the Bluebird Sings to the Lemonade Springs, which is a collection of essays about the West. This is what I’ve been reading since July. I don’t exactly have a to-read list. I tend to pick things up as I go along. But I certainly agree, there is never enough time to read all the books one wants to. Recently I decided I need to re-read Norman Mailer, but I haven’t taken that on yet.
LR: What's next writing-wise?
PSR: I am working on a book-length project about assisting a friend through the initial terminal diagnosis to her death from uterine cancer. I have just received funding for this project from the Maine Arts Commission (a “Good Idea Grant”). It’s a little hard going because it’s intense, but I am moving on it. I have also been given her diaries by the family and I am going through this material to incorporate it into my text.
Monday, October 6, 2008
Author Interviews, Book Review Sites, and a Used Books Cache
►Now that the household is healthy once again, it's going to be a busy month here. I have four author interviews lined up, so look for one each week, starting in a few days. I'm always thrilled when writer friends have new books coming out, and especially when it's a first book. Yes, I'm jealous too. Sue me.
►I recently discovered One Minute Book Reviews and if I hadn't also recently met the blog author, I'd have thought she was really ten people, otherwise how could she possibly read all of those books and make all of those smart observations? But she's the real deal and what I like most is that she takes a look at all kinds of books, not just a narrow sampling of personal favorites, as is often the case with book blogs.
►This weekend was the annual used book sale held at the apple-pumpkin market on the grounds of an historic site here in our little town. I got there just as the barn doors opened for first crack at the stacks (and piles, boxes, rows and milk crates full) of books. I wasn't looking for anything in particular (why risk disappointment?) which I find is the best way to approach these things.
The haul: 34 books. Total: $14. A very random sampling:
• The Slate Diaries. Pre-2000 postings from a hugely divergent group of 71 essayists, journalists, novelists and others from the site's early days, and a how-Slate-started introduction by Micheal Kinsley that now reads as both social media commentary and quaintly wide-eyed history.
• The Catcher in the Rye (J.D. Salinger). 'Cause my teenager is going to have to read it sometime soon and since it's his habit to first read the school-issued copy and then re-read and re-read, and this was a never-been-cracked open recent issue. And hey, I can barely remember most of it myself. Maybe I'll read along with him.
• Blue Shoes and Happiness (Alexander McCall Smith). Never had a desire to read anything from the No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency series, but a visitor recently remarked that I had a lot of "blue books" on my shelf – Blue Suburbia (Laurie Lico Albanese, a memoir in poetry); Born on a Blue Day (Daniel Tammet's memoir of growing up with Asperger's Syndrome); and Blue Peninsula (Madge McKeithen's memoir of how poetry got her through a son's illness). [Anyone else see a symmetry there?] So I grabbed it. And you know, anything with "shoes" in the title might be OK.
• Paris to the Moon (Adam Gopnik). I snagged this even though it was the only one in my stash with that musty been-sitting-in-the-basement-too-long odor, because I love Gopnik's New Yorker essays and articles and since I'll never move to Paris (or anywhere!) with my spouse and kids for a few years and bathe in culture and food and all things foreign, I may as well read about it.
• The House on Mango Street (Sandra Cisneros). A chapter from this novel-in-vignettes was assigned during grad school and I was happy to find the slim book. Lately, I love anything written in short sections like this (some as short as a half-page). Is it my ever-shortening attention span in the face of too much to do, or my love of writers who can condense and condense and yet say so much more?
• Three by Annie Dillard: Pilgrim at Tinker Creek, An American Childhood, The Writing Life. This is a strange thing to say for someone who just finished an MFA in creative nonfiction: I'm not a huge Dillard fan; and yet I've learned an awful lot from studying her writing, so I figured this belongs on my shelf. If I read only a page at a time, from time to time, I'm guessing it will be worth at least 50 times what I paid for it. Probably more.
• Eats, Shoots & Leaves (Lynne Truss). Had this on my Christmas list a few times but Santa apparently isn't into grammar and punctuation and all that.
• It Happened in New Jersey (Fran Capo). I plead guilty. I live here.
• And finally, Shiloh Season (Phyllis Reynolds Naylor). Because Mom has to come home with something for her favorite young reader.
►I recently discovered One Minute Book Reviews and if I hadn't also recently met the blog author, I'd have thought she was really ten people, otherwise how could she possibly read all of those books and make all of those smart observations? But she's the real deal and what I like most is that she takes a look at all kinds of books, not just a narrow sampling of personal favorites, as is often the case with book blogs.
►This weekend was the annual used book sale held at the apple-pumpkin market on the grounds of an historic site here in our little town. I got there just as the barn doors opened for first crack at the stacks (and piles, boxes, rows and milk crates full) of books. I wasn't looking for anything in particular (why risk disappointment?) which I find is the best way to approach these things.
The haul: 34 books. Total: $14. A very random sampling:
• The Slate Diaries. Pre-2000 postings from a hugely divergent group of 71 essayists, journalists, novelists and others from the site's early days, and a how-Slate-started introduction by Micheal Kinsley that now reads as both social media commentary and quaintly wide-eyed history.
• The Catcher in the Rye (J.D. Salinger). 'Cause my teenager is going to have to read it sometime soon and since it's his habit to first read the school-issued copy and then re-read and re-read, and this was a never-been-cracked open recent issue. And hey, I can barely remember most of it myself. Maybe I'll read along with him.
• Blue Shoes and Happiness (Alexander McCall Smith). Never had a desire to read anything from the No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency series, but a visitor recently remarked that I had a lot of "blue books" on my shelf – Blue Suburbia (Laurie Lico Albanese, a memoir in poetry); Born on a Blue Day (Daniel Tammet's memoir of growing up with Asperger's Syndrome); and Blue Peninsula (Madge McKeithen's memoir of how poetry got her through a son's illness). [Anyone else see a symmetry there?] So I grabbed it. And you know, anything with "shoes" in the title might be OK.
• Paris to the Moon (Adam Gopnik). I snagged this even though it was the only one in my stash with that musty been-sitting-in-the-basement-too-long odor, because I love Gopnik's New Yorker essays and articles and since I'll never move to Paris (or anywhere!) with my spouse and kids for a few years and bathe in culture and food and all things foreign, I may as well read about it.
• The House on Mango Street (Sandra Cisneros). A chapter from this novel-in-vignettes was assigned during grad school and I was happy to find the slim book. Lately, I love anything written in short sections like this (some as short as a half-page). Is it my ever-shortening attention span in the face of too much to do, or my love of writers who can condense and condense and yet say so much more?
• Three by Annie Dillard: Pilgrim at Tinker Creek, An American Childhood, The Writing Life. This is a strange thing to say for someone who just finished an MFA in creative nonfiction: I'm not a huge Dillard fan; and yet I've learned an awful lot from studying her writing, so I figured this belongs on my shelf. If I read only a page at a time, from time to time, I'm guessing it will be worth at least 50 times what I paid for it. Probably more.
• Eats, Shoots & Leaves (Lynne Truss). Had this on my Christmas list a few times but Santa apparently isn't into grammar and punctuation and all that.
• It Happened in New Jersey (Fran Capo). I plead guilty. I live here.
• And finally, Shiloh Season (Phyllis Reynolds Naylor). Because Mom has to come home with something for her favorite young reader.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Capote. That's all.
It's Truman Capote's birthday today. So I offer: Capote's biographer on that process. Most of the facts, and a bit more. My favorite Capote quote, on writing: "I believe more in the scissors than I do in the pencil." Lots more here. And this, vintage video of a Capote interview.
Monday, September 29, 2008
Blog Break: Read This Instead.
Hi folks. I have been, and continue to be, busy taking care of one very important small person at home for the past week or so, leaving little time or mental energy to blog. I'll be back soon as all is once again humming along as usual. Meanwhile, I did get time to sort through a bunch of piled-up magazines in between making chicken soup, pediatrician runs and Monopoly. Here's a fascinating article from The New Yorker which made me rethink everything I thought I knew about photo retouching.
Monday, September 22, 2008
Point of View: A 10-year-old Explains It All
We writer types sit around in workshops and writing groups and such, talking endlessly about tone and voice and point of view, and it's all very interesting of course – at least to us. Then there's this.
My 10 year-old son, home sick from school (but not too sick) is quiet for an hour, reading at the breakfast table. A few times he asks what a word means (frieze). But mostly he is silent, still.
Finally, he looks up, near triumphant. He's read a fairly dense eight-page article by Tom Verducci in the current issue of Sports Illustrated about the history and impending tear-down of storied Yankee Stadium. (Last night our family intermittently watched the final game played in the House that Ruth Built, lumps in throat.)
"Wow, that was a great article! Hey Mom," he says, "It was so cool. It's written like it was the stadium talking."
Indeed. The piece begins, "I am dying. It's O.K. You need not feel sorry for me. I have lived a full life…" and goes on for some 4,000 words in the same vein. (I'm guessing here, but can't you just picture Verducci wondering how to make an article about the legendary stadium stand out from the thousands of pieces he knows will be written this month? He reaches into his voluminous craft bag, considers if writing in the stadium's voice will be enough to make the article a must read. It is.)
So, there's writers opining about POV and feeling as if we are discussing something rather esoteric and incredibly valuable. And then there's a10 year-old taking an hour to read something he did not have to read, then happily identifying and explaining – in case I missed it -- how the choice of POV influences how a piece is read. Priceless.
Saturday, September 20, 2008
Class Notes: Poetry, Prose and an Open Mind
I often don't take notes when I'm listening to an author talk about craft issues, opting I'd rather the ideas and images wash across my open mind and leave what impressions they may. But the other day, when I sat in on a poetry talk by Baron Wormser, I found myself scribbling.
Wormser is a former poet laureate of Maine, author of several books of poetry, a memoir and a quirky short story collection about the poetry life. More importantly, Baron was the poet I came to know off the page, in his position on the faculty of the Stonecoast MFA program. When I arrived at Stonecoast, I was a bit of a nonfiction snob. Poetry seemed indulgent or at least ancillary and certainly not central to being a prose writer.
Did I mention I had a lot to learn?
When I found that my first MFA nonfiction workshop would be jointly lead by Richard Hoffman and Baron, both poets as well as memoirists, I was a bit miffed. Fast forward two years to my final MFA residency. One of the people in the audience for my reading whom I wanted to most impress? Baron. Over the years, he'd worked some kind of quiet magic on my attitude and my prose. After my reading, when Baron told me my prose was solid enough that he didn't even edit it in his head as he listened, it was high praise indeed.
Here's what I gleaned from Baron's talk the other day at Warren County Community College (first in an upcoming visiting authors series). By the way, I believe everywhere it says "poets" or "poetry" one can substitute "creative nonfiction writers" and "creative nonfiction".
• Poets dwell in the field of feelings, and are always investigating that domain.
• Poets are "first responders" who admit their vulnerability, contrary to how we normally act.
• Transience, the idea of time passing, is the basic theme of all poetry.
• Walt Whitman's work embodies one of the crucial elements of poetry – bringing together contraries, for example, "sweet hell" (not just contrary words, but contrary feelings and images).
• Poetry – indeed all writing – comes through our senses.
• Metaphor translates any feeling to sensory expression.
• Best gone American poets to read: Walt Whitman, Emily Dickinson, Robert Frost, Sylvia Plath
• On Plath: "As if Lady Macbeth sat down to write poetry."
• Poem to read: For the Union Dead, by Robert Lowell
• Book to read: Her Husband, by Diane Middlebrook, about Plath's marriage to Ted Hughes.
• Living American poet to read: Hayden Carruth.
Friday, September 19, 2008
Support Your Local (Print) Newspaper: If You Dare
I'm a huge believer in print media's ability to rise to the competitive challenge of digital media – that is, I believe in the print industry's editorial capabilities. Business-wise, maybe not so much. If my experience this morning is any indication, I might have to start believing those doom-and-gloom "print is dying" forecasts. Here's why (condensed for the sake of not boring you with the entire 18 minute exchange).
I dial 1800-NYTIMES, enter the seven or so different numbers required to reach a live operator.
Me: I'm currently a 7-day-a-week home delivery subscriber; in fact, I've been a subscriber for about eight years. But $40 a month has gotten to be a problem. Any special promotions or anything?
NYT: No, I'm sorry.
Me: What about all those special prices I see? I recently saw one for about $25 a month. Isn't there any break for current, loyal, long-time subscribers.
NYT: No, those specials are only for new subscribers. But I'll be happy to pass along your comments to our customer service department.
Me: I can't understand why you reward newcomers but never reward current subscribers.
NYT: Sorry about that.
Me: So, if I were to cancel, I could call back in a week or two and get that special deal as a new subscriber?
NYT: No, you can't get that for 90 days after you cancel.
Me: What about if I got just the Sunday paper?
NYT: That's $18 a month. But I'd suggest you get the Saturday-Sunday service, which is only $22 a month, because right now there's a special for Sat-Sun subscribers who want to upgrade to 7-day-a-week service, at no additional charge for the first 12 weeks.
Me: Well, why don't you just switch me to Sat-Sun, then give me that upgrade?
NYT: Oh, our computer system won't let me do that all at once.
Me: OK, then I'll switch to Sat-Sun now, and call back in a day or two to upgrade.
NYT: Oh no, you'd have to wait longer than a few days to do that.
Me: Like a week or so?
NYT: Well, I can't guarantee that special will still be going on then.
Me: When does it end?
NYT: We don't have that kind of information.
Me: You know, for an industry in which newspapers are closing down every day and laying off thousands weekly, you folks certainly aren't making it easy for people who actually LOVE the newspaper to continue to support it.
NYT: (nervous titter) I can understand your frustration.
Me: You know, I subscribe to a lot of magazines, and last month I got a $28 renewal notice for one, and the blow-in card in the current issue had a rate of $15 for new subscribers, and so I called their 800 number, and they immediately offered me the $15 rate.
NYT: Well, I'll pass that along too.
I can't blame the patient and polite woman at the other end of the phone who is simply trying to earn a living in a presumably thankless job. So I thanked her, took the Sat-Sun deal, and hung up knowing I had knocked $18 at least off our monthly expenditures, even though the Saturday Times is rarely invigorating reading. But I'm holding out for that upgrade.
I love newspapers. I love the New York Times more than most people love their lattes in the morning. I want it in my hands, physically, every day. But I've decided I'll read it online on weekdays now. Which is too bad for a lot of reasons, but the one that saddens me most is that my 14-year-old already had developed that sit-down-with-the-newspaper habit (sports, weather, and national news), and the 10-year-old was right behind (science and food). They'll move online a lot more readily than I will, of course. But the question is, will they really? If the paper's not spread across the breakfast table, or on the kitchen counter after school, on perched on the hassock after dinner, will these kids – of the Nintendo, Wii, texting generation – ever seek it out, even online?
When I was in high school, anyone could pick up a free copy of the New York Times from the social studies room. You had to get there before third period though or they'd be gone. At home, my parents subscribed to the two local daily newspapers, one of which just announced it will probably be out of business by January.
That daily exposure to newspapers had a huge influence. I'm willing to concede that 30 years from now someone, somewhere, may well be saying that about their favorite news aggregation sites.
I suppose I hope so. I also hope that upgrade deal is still there when I call the Times next week. I hope the Times is still there.
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