October 4th, 2009

At Draft

Yesterday, I was a happy attendee and terrified participant at The Draft Reading Series. As usual at these readings, the organizers were super on-the-ball, supportive and fun. Here is Maria from the Draft group, below, introducing the event and being charming:

Then amazing Amy Jones read, also new work, which was shocking and very funny and made me even more excited to read her forthcoming book as well as for the other events we’ll be doing together soon (oooh, suspense: stay tuned, Metcalf-Rooke fans!!)

Then Sachiko Murakami read some striking poems about Vancouver, and wore some really nice boots (not pictured):

Then Lina Medaglia read from her novel about immigration, superstition and how hard it is to be a kid because no one will tell you anything:

Since it was the Draft reading series, I read a story in draft form, ie., something I wrote the week before and edited over breakfast. This is something I had never done before, and it was really only Hallowe’en kisses (can you believe I could not find a picture to link to here? Can you also believe that it didn’t occur to me before now that bringing candy to readings is awesome?) Here I am, terrified, and full of sugar (thanks for taking the pic, B):

Then, of course, the camera died (B, I don’t blame you) before I could get a shot of final reader Roz Spafford, but I assure you she was interesting too! And then there was the first open mic I’d ever seen, which was quite quite good, considering the reputation of such ventures, and included such cool readers as August Bourre and Terri Favro!

It was an entertaining and illuminating (I can read draft work to strangers without bursting into flame–who knew??) afternoon, though I was shocked that there was candy leftover. Don’t worry, that will be rectified shortly!

Teenland, whoa-oh
RR

October 3rd, 2009

Event City

I usually have perhaps one or two standing-at-the-front-of-the-room experiences per month, but I have three this week, and I suppose it won’t be long before I start snapping my fingers for drinks and talking about the difficulties of “my art.” Or maybe not…

After the very fun Writers’ Trust presentation on Wednesday, on Thursday I got to go do a little reading and workshop with the teen writers’ group at North York Public Library, who are so very amazing (as is their leader, Susan Kernohan) that I didn’t have to do all that much of the talking, actually, just sit back and listen to the discussion about why art theory doesn’t help, while Dickens is a must, how inspiration starts, and what to major in in university. Pretty amazing.

And then tomorrow, I’ll be doing a reading for the Draft reading series. Here be the deets:

Sunday October 4th, 2009, 4 – 6 p.m.

The Blue Moon Pub, 725 Queen St. E. (That’s just East of Broadview on the South side.)

Including new work by:

Amy Jones
Lina Medaglia
Sachiko Murakami
Rebecca Rosenblum
Roz Spafford

There will be an open mike. Seven readers, three minutes each. Please arrive at the beginning of the reading to sign up. With the $5 admission fee you get a copy of Draft, a limited-edition publication available only at these readings. For info: draftreadings@gmail.com or 416 433-4170

I am stoked to hear all the other artists on the bill, including the fabulous story-writer Amy Jones (who I have never seen in person!) But I am a little terrified to myself be reading in draft form, something I’ve done only once before. Even that other time, it was a reasonably polished draft, as opposed to this story, which I only started work on a week ago Thursday. Oh dear. This’ll be something different, anyway.

Next week, I think I’ll stop standing at the front of the room and go to other people’s events for a while. Perhaps you would like to, too??

Tuesday October 6–Marta Chudolinska does a signing of her graphic novel, Back + Forth at Ben McNally Books.

Wednesday October 7–It’s the first anniversary (approximately) party for Pivot at the Press Club, and Emily Schultz, Spencer Gordon, Ken Babstock, and Meaghan Strimas take to the stage to celebrate. I am of the opinion that a night at Pivot is *always* a good bet, but this one might even be extra good.

Friday October 9–A non-lit event–the acapella groupCadence live at the Annex. Should be a whole new experience for me, and I hear nothing but good things.

And then we’re into the weekend, and can safely abandon cultural consumption for turkey consumption. I don’t know about you, but I intend to spend the entire weekend hugging people and eating sweet potatoes… But that’s *next* weekend, so I guess this means I should get back to work now.

Hope to see you at one (or more) of the above!

There’s nothing I can do for you you can’t do for yourself
RR

September 26th, 2009

Grant-tastic

I wanted to write a post about grant application writing because we’re in that season and I imagine that lots are thus obsessed. So many of us obsessed, and yet I am also writing this because no one seems to talk that much about this all-consuming process. There seems to be lots of good web resources on how to ready a manuscript for submission, but very few on grant apps. Possibly that’s because grant-app requirements vary by country and region, or because not everyone politically endorses grants to artists, or because they are such closed-door processes that people feel little is known and there’s no advice to be offered–better just to ignore them and get on with the work itself, which is what really matters, after all.

True that it’s the work that matters. But while it probably is also true that no one can tell you how to write a successful grant application, I think help helps a writer to create a decent one, and helps also to keep him/her from going insane while doing so…and money, if you win a grant, certainly helps.

Jim Munro has written both on how not to get depressed about applying for grants, and why they are important to artists and the world at large. (That last essay, four years old, is still extremely relevant and powerful in these times of arts budget cuts–grant-backed work as the R&D of literature is a concept the government is still struggling with, apparently.)

But I wondered if there were people out there who were hoping for something a little more specific, and step-by-step. And, as usual, what I have to draw on is my own incredible luck: when I first started writing these applications, I had what most young writers would love: people to hold my hand and help me every step of the way. So while I’m not wildly familiar with every aspect of the process, I have been doing this a while, and have received some good advice. At the very least, I’d like to pay it forward.

Step 1: Whenever you have time, read over the national, provincial/territorial, and regional/municipal arts council websites (I don’t think every region/municipality has one, but I think all provinces/territories do, although I’m not even sure about that–anyone want to report?) Figure out which ones you and your project are eligible for, and note when the deadlines are. Also note which ones you aren’t eligible for but would like to work towards (ie., you don’t have enough professional publications to be considered a “professional artist” but are close; you don’t have the page count for the project to be eligible but are close; etc.)

There are so many grants out there, and it is confusing to find out which ones are for what and whom, but obviously, it could be kind of lucrative if you do. If you have no idea what is meant by something or other on an arts council website, it’s definitely worth your time to enquire. I have called the 800 numbers for every granting level, and have been unfailingly met with quick, polite and helpful responses. Once, after answering my question, the administrator said that that bit was actually so confusing he would change it for next year–I helped!! I’m a grant-applicating hero!! Ok, ok….

Not Step 2: Create a project you think jives with the grant guidelines. Not only is this impossible to guess at, but it will be both stressful and boring, and really depressing if you don’t get the grant and you’ve spent all this time creating a project you don’t believe in. Just keep right on thinking about whatever project you were hoping to do next, only maybe try to think about it in the form of 1 or 2 clear and concise proposal pages…

Step 2: 3-4 weeks before the deadline, read the guidelines for the grant you want to try for and make sure you are still eligible. Read over all the requirements and figure out what you need to do. For one of my first apps, I skipped step 1, and was far closer to the deadline than 3-4 weeks when I started to process, and became quickly overwhelmed by the various requirements. So I went and took a bath.

Luckily, I had a good and organized friend staying with me, who printed out the guidelines and, when I returned, read them aloud to me and helped me find all the constituent pieces (I’m sure this is exactly what she wanted to do with her weekend.)

Do whatever the guidelines say. Format the pages the way they want, take things off your resume that they claim are extraneous, use the right colour of ink, etc. A lot of these things don’t matter, but it’s really hard to say which so it’s necessary to DO THEM ALL. If you format the headers wrong and your name appears on something that’s supposed to be blind ajudicated, it will be thrown out. If you double-side the pages when they ask you not to, so that the app can’t be photocopied easily, it’ll be thrown out. These are dumb reasons not to get a grant. Don’t think outside the box when filling out forms; keep the creativity strictly in the work, which is where it matters. Again, if confused, call!!

Step 3: 3ish weeks ahead of deadline: Write your proposal. This is the hardest part (though some grants don’t even call for this), but it’s also actually a useful exercise, as it forces you to articulate what exactly you are trying to do (anyone who has ever been interviewed knows this is difficult even after the thing is print!)

The esteemed writer who helped me with another app (eventually I started doing them on my own, I swear) said he never spent more than 2 hours on one of these, and while we can’t all be that chilled out, I really think we should try. Mr. Munro says he takes about 2 days for the whole process, which seems about accurate, though I doubt you’ll want to take a whole weekend away from whatever writing/real life stuff you’ve got on to do it all at once.

Write the proposal over a week or so. Say what you are doing and want to do, as clearly and smoothly as possible. If it’s a highly theoretical project, sure, make references that are important to you, but if it isn’t, don’t invent them. Tell yourself it’s about the quality of the work, over and over and over. Even if you end up with a highly politicized jury, you have no way of knowing that in advance; you can’t make them like your work, you can only make your work good.

Step 4: as soon as you finish the proposal Get a kind friend to proof everything–the forms you’ve filled out, the resumes, publication lists, anything that has words on it (except the actual work sample; see below). You don’t need a fellow writer necessarily, just someone with a keen eye, good grammar, and an investment in you getting the metaphorical spinach out of your teeth. When they read the proposal, encourage them to mention any sentences that don’t makes sense/aren’t clear–you never know what your fervered brain might have done at this stressful point in the process.

Step 5: whenever you need to Take a little break and think of other things. Really really try not to let the grant app take over your life, or go in the slot where actual writing is supposed to go.

Pep talk: Think about how lucky we are to be writers writing grant applications. Dance, visual art, and musical profressionals have to write them just like we do, only their chosen profession is *not* putting their ideas down on paper in the best possible way. It could be so much worse–imagine having to sing your application, or paint it.

Step 6: a few days before you send the whole thing out Take the best [however many pages you need] from the project as started, or of a past project that is similar in style, and format them according to the specifications of the application. This should be stuff that’s been previously edited and proofread–I would strongly suggest that you not add that to the sundry grant-app pressures–it should be ready-to-go materials taht have been previously submitted it for publication or were actually published or just stuff you have already gotten to a point where you are happy with it. Of course, there’s no reason you *can’t* be editing now, or even writing new materials if you feel you need to, but if that’s your plan backdate the whole process a whole lot weeks, and brace yourself for the extra stress.

Step 7: at least a week before the deadline if you are mailing it Package everything up in an appropriate new envelope (just this once: spring for exactly the right size instead of trying to cut down/tape together/recycle an envelope), address it carefully, and take it to the post office to be weighed and stamped. If you are a tense type (ie., me) you’ll probably need to pay a lot of money to have a mailing option with a tracking number–suck it up and save the receipt for tax season, since it is a professional expense.

Pep talk #2 Try to think of grant applying as part of the job description of being a writer (unless you don’t believe in grants, in which case, why have you read so far in this post?) When I fretted about it not being worth all that time and energy for a grant that I probably wouldn’t get since I was just starting and I should just get on with the project anyway, my mom pointed out that since I was *going* to do the project anyway, and work very hard on it, it would be silly not to even suggest to anyone that I get paid a bit for all that work. No one, I don’t think, is entitled to a grant just for working hard, but we are certainly all entitled to ask.

Exception to pep talk Don’t apply for grants if it will eat up all the time you have for writing. If you are that pressed for time that regular adherence to the grant application schedule would make you more a grant-applier than a writer, it’s obvious which one has got to go. It’s the work that matters.

Step 8: after mailing app, for about 4-6 months Forget it. Go write something. Apply for a different grant. Talk to your loved ones. Look at kittens!

Step 9: 4-6 months later An envelope comes in the mail. We’ve all been trained by *The Facts of Life* to think that thick envelopes mean acceptance and thin mean rejection, but there’s often a lot of extraneous forms in there, so you’ll have to open it to know, probably standing in the foyer of your building, with a pizza guy glaring at the back of your head.

If you get rejected, feel surprised and a bit sad…say to yourself (and others if they ask) “Huh, I thought that was a pretty good application. Well, can’t win’em all.” Then go file the letter, or log it in your spreadsheet, or make it into a paper airplane, or whatever it is you do. Get someone who likes you to buy you a drink.

Pep talk #3 Canada Council funds about 20% of grant applications, and Toronto Arts Council perhaps 22-24% (I don’t have other stats, but feel free to extrapolate or share). That’s because that’s what they have the money for, not because all the other apps they get are unworthy, or even that the committees think they are. I’ve never sat a committee myself, nor even known anyone who has well enough to ask more than general questions, but I firmly believe they weed out all the bad ideas, bad writing, and crazy writers, and then put the good sane materials in a hat, out of which they draw names until they run out of money. Believe that you were in the hat, ok? Rejection doesn’t mean it was a bad project; it means this wasn’t your year. Feel surprised and a bit sad, and put it behind you. It’s the work that matters.

Note: if you have information that contradicts my theory, sure, let me know; if you have a *theory* that contradicts my theory, please keep it to yourself and allow me to remain relatively Rose-coloured.

If you get accepted, feel surprised and extremely thrilled. Hop about for a bit (you should probably leave the foyer now, and let the poor pizza guy in.) Tell someone who likes you (and buy him/her a drink); toast yourself and your good work and good luck. Examine all the paperwork they’ve sent you so that you know how to a) get your money, b) file your taxes, and c) fill the Final Reports that are months away from being due, at which point you will have lost every piece of paper telling you how or where to send them or what to say. Or, erm, not, because you are not as dopey as some of us.

Ok, now get back to work. And for heaven’s sake, don’t put that you’ve received a grant in your author bio, unless it’s in print with the work that the grant actually funded, and the granters are being credited–otherwise, that’s like putting your salary on your resume. Getting paid is nice but it’s–wait for it–the work that matters.

Good luck, everybody! And if you find something erroneous, confusing, or missing in this post, please get in touch!

Keep the faith
RR

September 24th, 2009

To the semi-colon, a respectful love note

The Rose-coloured Mafia has become aware (thank you, Mark!) that today is National Punctuation Day! When asked what my favourite punctuation is (yes, this is what authors talk about…some authors), I would have to say nervously, the semi-colon.

“Nervously” because the semi-c is a notoriously “advanced” bit of punctuation, one I’ve only learned to use properly (I hope) in the past few years. It’s got subtly and gradations, nuance and force. Let me explain.

Usage 1: to divide items in a list when there are commas (or conjunctions) within the individual list items. Confused already? I understand. Ok:

As we all know, if you have more than two simple things you are listing in a sentence, you mark them off with commas (eg., “The period, exclamation point, and question mark are all terminal punctuation.”) [Note: the comma before the “and” is optional, but that’s another post.] But if they are items that themselves contain lists, a reader might get confused, so you use commas for the lists internal to the items, and semi-colons for the larger list (eg., “My favourite suppers are mac and cheese; tomato, ham, and swiss omelettes; and turkey, bacon, and avocado sandwiches).

Usage 2: to link two independent clauses and imply the relationship between them. Independent clauses are clauses that *could* stand alone as sentences, but they don’t have to. For example, “Philip is married to Nina. I hate Nina.” is just an enumeration of facts, some of them unhappy. But, “Philip is married to Nina; I hate Nina,” implies that their is a causal link between these two facts–perhaps I hate Nina because she is married to Philip. Perhaps I love Philip. Perhaps inherent in this grammatical example is a great novel.

The relationship has to be pretty obvious and self-contained for the semi-colon to make sense. You can’t just match up any two sentences and sometime later explain the link: “Philip is married to Nina; I like pie” is a bad semi-colon use, even if it comes out 30 pages later that I am planning to murder Nina with a poison pie…

Usage 3: to link two independent clauses if a transition is used between them. Transition words–properly called “conjunctive adverbs” for reasons that are a little confusing–are ones like however, therefore, moreover. These words make the link between clauses explicit, yet because they are not conjunctions we still need that semi-c. For example, “Nina is devouring the pie; therefore, she’ll soon be dead.”

***

Something I tried and tried to tell the first-year Effective Writing students I TA’d for is that a full life–and deathless prose–can be lived WITHOUT the semicolon. Yes, it adds nuance to a sentence, but only if you use it properly; otherwise, it looks stupid, same as any other error. This is higher-end punctuation, but only in the sense that unlike the comma and the period, you don’t *have* to use it, and probably will only really need it for complicated ideas. But it doesn’t *make* an idea complicated. There no such thing, really as a 50-cent word, or 50-cent punctuation: there’s just 50-cent ideas and the best way for an individual author to express them. But my students kept sticking semi-colons in after “and” anyway.

Up in the club
RR

September 18th, 2009

Suggestions

There is *so much* going on of late that is awesome that the only way I can imagine anyone going wrong is if they were to sit home in the dark and not read anything. But if you are looking for suggestions…

1) Leon Rooke!! Everyone thing the man does is astounding, but specifically:

a. His new book, The Last Shot, promises to be thrilling. I have to admit I haven’t opened it yet, as I only attended the warm and wonderous launch last night, but such was the buzz in the room that I’m pretty sure I’m right about this.

b. His festival, The Eden Mills Writers’ Festival, which Leon and his late wife Connie started over 20 years ago, and which continues to surprise and delight and extremely talented authors to read there. This Sunday afternoon, by the river outside Guelph. I’m bringing muffins, a sitting-on-the-ground blanket, and book-buying funds–see you there?

c. His art exhibit, Peculiar Practices, at the The Bookshelf in Guelph, which runs until this Sunday. I have no idea what to expect, but am excited anyway!

2) If for some reason you can’t be in the Guelph/Eden Mills regions but you can be in the Sharon region, maybe try the Words Alive Festival in Sharon, Ontario, also with a bevy of talented readers, and (I’m told) a beautiful setting… If I weren’t already booked!

3) In preparation for hearing her read at the aforementioned Eden Mills, I have been joyously reading Saleema Nawaz’s beautiful story collection Mother Superior. I’m only halfway, and still have no idea what the cover art means, but I already know that this is one of the best new books I’ve read in a while.

4) Online: Alex Boyd has a new blog, Kathrine Nabity is doing a wonderful history of how she wrote and published her first novel, and *I* have an author page on GoodReads!!

5) I’ll be reading in Ottawa on October 17, 5pm, at the Manx Pub as part of the Plan 99 reading series. I am very excited.

6) You can go read some good stories at the University of Toronto alumni Short Story contest readers’ choice site. If you are yourself an alumnus, you can even vote for your favourite. (completely equitable hint)

I am very excited about everything in the universe right now, except that it is cold out and I am not feeling well. So, thank goodness for literature! As usual!

Precious precious precious
RR

September 17th, 2009

Professional Interviews (5): Jamie, Project Manager

The fifth in my series of interviews with people about their jobs, an attempt for me to both learn to interview and learn about people’s jobs. This one was the first phone interview, which presents its own challenges, of lack of facial expressions and gestures, but not too much of a handicap, I don’t think (maybe Jamie is just exceptionally expressive, I’m not sure). Anyway, I’m in bold, J’s in Roman, and I hope you find this all as interesting as I do.

***

What is your job description on paper? Ie., What did they hire you to do?

I guess manage documents and staff. Manage staff, maintain documents. Maintain the integrity of a set of documents. (what does that mean?) It’s business-speak–it’s making sure that the documents are in order, checking if there’s a relationship between the documents…because often if you are dealing with 500 000 documents, their order has probably been tampered with because of moving, because of coming from many sources. I have to make sure, with this team of people, that these documents are…I don’t know…organized properly. It can be very tedious.

What do you actually do?

I deal with the documents at the ground level, I hire people, I make sure that the staff is aware of what’s going on and, because we’re in front of a computer for 8 hours, I try to be as conscious as I can of the general happiness of the staff. That can be anything from health problems to their infighting, how they deal with one another. That’s why I said I’m managing the staff as well as dealing with these documents.

Can you do a day for me? Like, hour by hour?

I’ve been wondering that myself for the last week! A typical day is at my desk, viewing documents, seeing if there’s a relationship, cataloguing, one ear open to the environment of the office. Making sure that whatever’s happening in the office is communicated back to my supervisor. I’m kind of in the middle, between the bosses and the regular staff.

Lately I’ve been dealing with something else, so I haven’t been looking at the documents. But there’s always part of me that is worrying that people are talking too much, or we’re not producing enough numbers… When we were on a deadline, I made sure I was there cataloguing the documents with everyone else on the weekends. Like, I don’t have my own office, I’m in the mix with everyone else.

Are you responsible for disciplinary issues?

Yes. But I don’t— Like, we work in an office building where we should be wearing business casual, which is a rule I prefer to ignore, and then sometimes people take it to a new level of informality, and show up in really questionable clothing choices for the environment but I would prefer that people dress to make themselves comfortable because it can be difficult being in an office all day. Why make it any harder?

I hate discipline. I’m passive aggressive, so that makes it very difficult. Last week I spoke to someone that was being too loud. The person wasn’t being loud in that moment, so an argument could be made that I should have waited for an example of the problem to say something, but I saw a moment to go over and I said “Ok, you have to watch the volume of your voice. I’m sorry if you feel picked on.” And the person’s response was “Yeah, I do feel picked on.” And then this person went on to list four other staff that needed to be disciplined even more. Which I find humourous, that one person would be willing to sell out all the other people in the office? And for what? Vindication of poor behaviours maybe?

I see problems in the office and I try to think is this just how people deal with the every day or something that we need to deal with. We can’t help ourselves, people, humans. I probably ignore more than most people would. Eventually though you don’t have a choice, once you call yourself project manager and have hired people, you have to go up to people and say, “Do not cut your toenails at work, please. That’s disgusting ” The thing I want to say, “Get your head out of your ass,” but I don’t say, because if you’re verbally abusive people usually aren’t going to listen to you. But because we work in an open environment, 13 people in a room, its not impossible that a toenail could fly in the air and hit someone in the eye.

What is the part of your job you are best at?

Wow, I don’t know. What would someone say to that?

Like, in your job interview, the thing you said you could contribute to the company, the thing that you are good at offering.

Interpersonal skills. I love it, I know there are lots of people who would rather work at home, but I love the social aspect of work. And I don’t mean talking about watching “American Idol” last night, I mean collaborating with people, the process of work. Most of my relationships even with my close friends involve work. I don’t think I have a close friend right now that I don’t have a job with.

…I just like work, I like my social relationships being about work. This conversation I take a great amount of pleasure in because it’s for your blog, there’s something to it.

I spend more time at work than I do at home, most people do, so where do I live?

Why not just go home and say, this isn’t my problem?

I suppose, the easiest thing…if it’s not done, I’d be the first person to be asked why it wasn’t finished. I’d be asked, what were people doing that it wasn’t done? I helped hire the staff, made sure that they can do things within the parameters of the deadline.

I’ve really come to this by accident. I don’t have a law degree and there are people there who are lawyers and it would be really really cool if I had a law degree too I’m sure, but that just isn’t going to happen. Anyway, that’s my day job. My nights are filled up editing a film about a person with a porn addiction. And I’d really like that to be my focus. Not to porn addiction, ideally it would be to make films and write. Right now I’m taking the Kafka approach, to work all day and write all night. I’m trying to eliminate distractions around me and to just write and make these films.

It’s the day job question–can you get any glow from your job? You care about your job and are good at it, so can you feel proud of it the way you do about a solid piece of writing?

I need money to exist. I’ll reduce it to the basics first. I like to live a certain way, and a person has to have a job, that’s almost always true. The things I’m writing right now, they don’t pay. I have to have a job, I like the people I work with, and I actually take pleasure in the work. In having 5 calls to make and making sure things are getting done. It’s the process, and that’s what I take pleasure in with the writing, the process of the drafts of stories is the day to day stuff to me, which I enjoy doing. I know that mundane work day kills people inside, but I don’t have that feeling after 6 years. That might be because I’m in a position that has some power to it, or because I work for someone who’s very freethinking and opening minded. My boss, he really does have a creative mind. And that helps. I’m not really sure if I worked somewhere else, if I’d have the same passion. But then, I equally I enjoyed working at a pizza place for years.

What do you do at lunchtime?

Um…bitch. If I’m with the one or two coworkers that are my confidants, we’ll take a break to go out of the office to talk about the office. Sometimes I’m playing basketball. I’m obsessed with the middleaged weight-gain, I’m terrified of it, so I’m getting some exercise. If I could do it the way I’d like it, I’d be by myself. I used to go to this place that no one else went, it served this disgusting pasta with bbq sauce and this chicken…well, it wasn’t good. But it’s a space where I don’t have to worry about meeting anyone.

When you meet people at parties and they ask what you do, how do you describe it one sentence? What follow-up questions do they ask, if any?

“I’m in litigation and at night I’m collaborating on a documentary about a porn addict.” I never tell people I’m a writer. “Documentary about a porn addict” is easier than writer because it’s more complete, people get that. People ask what you write and you say surreal noirs, they might not get that, and they say, what’s that like? Most times at parties, people give you maybe 5 minutes, so I try to reduce it quickly to its main points. It’s a short form to say “I do this but I also do that.” You’re looking for the description that people nod at and move on. This is cynical, but people don’t have the time in their lives to put into that many other people, they’re too busy with their own lives.

Who would you warn away from this career path–who is absolutely not suited for this job?

I would have assumed that I would have been not suited for my job, and I seem to like it so…who knows?

***
Some of Jamie Popowich’s writing can be found here.

RR

September 7th, 2009

Writing books are delicious

For various reasons, mostly having to do with yestereve’s writing not going very well, I went to bed last night with Anne Lamott’s Bird by Bird. This morning I got up and did some chores and necessary writing, and then I read 50 more pages of the book and am now in quite a good mood.

Lamott’s book does what all the best writing books do, which is to remind me of how hard writing is and that my failures are common but there are ways back to the right track, and indeed, I already know how to do whatever I need to do. There’s even a chapter called “Shitty First Drafts”–hooray, I already write those. I read the chapter with cheered validation in my heart. Yes, I can, at some point, take this failing incoherent story where characters change names and there is a half page description of a parking lot, and turn it into a strong, affecting story that someone might not be angry at me if they had to read it!! Hooray!! Any minute now, I get right back to work on said story.

Ok, so the above was a little sarcastic, and Lamott’s book doesn’t deserve that–the first 50 pages anyway are very honest and bracing and encouraging, and also written by an extremely talented funny writer. But the position writing books hold in my life is a little like banana cake–a delicious dessert masquerading as a healthy snack. You have to consume both the books and the cake with discretion. If you have banana cake for breakfast instead of a bowl of oatmeal because, hey, it’s *fruit*! you are in trouble. Just like reading writing books instead of writing can get to be a big problem–they are so validating and encouraging, and so entertaining to read, it can get to be a habit that goes in the slot where actual work should go. If on the other hand, you eat banana cake for dessert instead of chocolate cake, you are very slightly ahead–hey, at least it’s fruit. I try to stick to reading writing-advice books when I’ve run out of steam on the writing, as a leisure activity in place of, say, playing internet Scrabble, napping, or baking a cake (although all these things have their places). It’s not writing, but it’s better *for* writing than something completely disconnected from the practice.

So, here, a few lovely writing books I recommend you read sometime when you want a treat with a little substance:

—Writing Down the Bones by Natalie Goldberg. When I was first given this book, at 12, I thought it was silly, but I’ve probably read this book half a dozen times since and it gets smarter every time. Lots of very simple, *slightly* hippyish, Zen Buddhism flavoured advice on just writing writing writing–in restaurants, with friends, in notebooks, by yourself, while travelling–just shut off your inner editor (Goldberg calls it the “monkey mind,” not sure why) and do it.
—How Stories Mean, edited by John Metcalf and J. R. Struthers This is a collection of essays for both readers and writers of short stories, about both how writers do what they do and why. Worth the price of admission just for Clark Blaise’s twin pieces on how to write beginnings and how to write endings, but you could also cheerfully read this book without wanting to write a word, and come out the end a better reader of stories. That said, there’s no, “rah rah, you can do it” stuff–just lots of insight into process and product. To continue with the cake metaphor, this one wouldn’t have any frosting.
—Writers’ Gym, edited by Eliza Clark A much lighter version of the last book, a mix of writing exercises, tips, interviews and mini-essays on how stuff works. Lots of fun to read, and certainly in the right mode of writing practicality, but this one’s largely frosting.
—What If? Writing Exercises for Fiction Writers by Anne Bernays and Pamela Painter This one is all exercises, but with extensive explanations and discussions of each one. I have done a few of these and they were the necessary combination of fun/interesting/useful, but mainly (is it bad to admit this?) I like to read about the exercises without doing them. Many in this book are quite specific, and often for writers in the early stages of a project, so to find the one that’s useful for me to do often takes a while. But it is interesting to read about the others, and be reminded of those skills they are trying to teach.

This is just a taste–I have half a dozen more on my shelf, and in the world they are legion. No substitute for anything–not writing fiction nor reading it–but a worthwhile indulgence nonetheless. I’m really looking forward to the rest of *Bird by Bird*, as well as getting on with this story…really soon.

Bon appetit!

I need a telescope not a telephone
RR

September 3rd, 2009

Another excerpt for deletion

I actually forgot I wrote this scene–I had a plan but it got away from me and Akalena never appears again in the story. When I began rereading it, I was all “What the…oh, yeah. This.” and had to cut the whole scene. This is why it takes me so long to finish anything.

***

The breakfast special was a McMuffin derivative. Kate cut the egg rectangles out of the cookie sheets of egg baked the night before and folded them onto the muffin bottoms. A gorgeous Ukrainian girl, Akalena, was picking out the right slice or slices of peameal bacon for each sandwich, adding up to 2 ounces. She was so blindingly blond and silent, her clothing so wildly incorrect—high-waisted belted jeans and tucked in sleeveless blouses—that Kate and Sarah had assumed her fresh from immigration and bereft of language. But then it turned out later that Akalena had lived in Etobicoke all her life and her mom too, and she went to Martingrove and she just considered “ugly boring girls” like Sarah and Kate not worth talking to. Akalena put the bacon pieces on the egg slab, before Sarah slapped on the cheese and muffintop, and wrapped the whole disgusting mess in Saran.

Through and through and through
RR

August 21st, 2009

Spellchecked

I am doing the spellcheck on a story, and these are the words I’ve clicked “ignore” on. I wonder what clues they give as to the nature of the story:

uncatered
minifridge
Lavalife
colours
Coke
FedEx’d
admins
midconversation
dj
nothinger
orthodics
Prius
maritalness
bellish
clearish
one-night-standish
lingerie’d
unmuscled
fleshshaping
unerotic
clinkless

In some ways, that’s pretty much the whole story in miniature, in slang and neologisms. Weird.

She wears her overcoat for the coming of the nuclear winter
RR

August 15th, 2009

Book Birthday

My book, *Once*, launched on September 15, 2008, which was certainly one of my favourite days in history. I’m celebrating my book’s birthday a month early for a couple reasons. One is an actual human birthday to celebrate this September 15, and another is that another book is launching on that day. Back and Forth by Marta Chudolinska, a name and a project that might be familiar because my own book cover (see top right of this page) is an image taken from Marta’s book. I am very glad she and I will be sharing a launch date.

Also, I had planned to move forward from doing all my readings from *Once* after a year, but I find myself a little eager on that front. With this early birthday, my next reading, on August 19 can be included in my new year of new readings. Not that I’ll refuse to read from *Once* if asked–or indeed, if inspired–but in general, I’m excited to do other readings after (most of) a year of *Once*.

Oh, but what a year.

Six or so months before *Once*’s debut, I was talking on the phone about some publication matter with the book’s editor, John Metcalf. It was early on a Sunday morning and I somehow wandered from the topic at handonto the various insoluble problems with my life. My tone may have veered towards self-pitying. John assured me that publishing a book would improve my outlook on my life as well as my life itself, and that I should somehow arrange to not entirely lose hope until the thing was in the world. I had accomplished something, and once I was able to hold it in my hand, I would feel it.

When I remained forlorn and unconvinced, John wound up making and mailing me an inspriational poster featuring an Impressionist art postcard of a child being held firmly by the hand, captioned “pre-book Rebecca” and one of a beautiful Impressionist lady lounging contentedly, “post-book Rebecca,” which is taped to my coat-closet door to this day.

I don’t know if I’ve fully grown up this year, but I truly have some amazing moments, and been more thrillingly rewarded than I ever thought possible for something I would really have done anyway. And the freedom that came with the book was the freedom, and encouragement, to do so much.

I read in a rainstorm. And on the radio. And to teenagers, UofT alumni, people in 7 cities, my high-school creative writing teacher, people stained with walnut juice, people with kids to get home to, people who weren’t listening, packed houses, almost empty rooms, writers I adore, my family, and people who didn’t care at all. I followed a slam poet, rave art, writers I adore, and lunch.

I was given lunch, dinner, breakfast, drinks I didn’t want, masses of cheese (why cheese, always, at the readings?), the spare bedroom, this really delicious kosher cookie, souvenir coffee mugs, mints, notepads, a fountain pen, flowers, poetry journals, a map of Winnipeg, hugs, and a pizza made out of Playdough. Also, occasionally, payment for readings.

Once, my status as a writer got me invited to an extremely fancy party. The invitation specified that I was not to bring an escort. “Ah, they want people to get to know each other,” I thought, and, at the appointed time, I got as dressed up as I am capable of, went across town, had my named checked at the door and entered the fanciest, most enormous party I’d ever seen. There were likely 1000 people there, and not one of them talked to me except the bartenders. I saw some stunning fashion, eavesdropped and some fascinating conversations, had one drink, several impressive canapes (cream soup in a shot glass!), and started the trek back across town after 20 minutes.

I signed books like a star! I got to meet artists and writers and musicians and booksellers and publishers. Once a friend went on a (ultimately unsuccessful) blind date and the last book the guy had read was mine. Once a friend of a friend’s wife (unknown to me) got my book for Christmas. Once, someone struck up an (interesting) conversation with me because he recognized me from a past reading. Once, I got interviewed on CBC’s Sunday Edition, and strangers Facebook’d me to say they’d liked it.

When people were snide in that oh-really-a-writer? way, or even some other non-writing way, I took great great pleasure in not telling them one thing about *Once* or its reception. Good news is deserved only by good people.

*Once* got reviewed across the country–not everywhere, but enough that I was dazzled and that occasionally, when someone saw my book they would say, “Oh, I’ve heard of this.” And better, reviewers often seemed to understand whatever it was I was trying to do: I couldn’t always believe the praise or even the criticism, but I was so thrilled when they described the work in words I would have used. Also, the idea of someone caring enough to read my work thoughtfully and then try to offer an estimation of what was going on was deeply deeply rewarding. And, ok, let’s be honest here: the other best thing about positive reviews was, for me, reading them aloud over the phone to my parents. Good people deserve good news.

I got hit on, gently mocked, toasted, ignored, lost, hugged by strangers, soaked in the rain, locked out of the reading space, and tangled up in my own feet. People told me that certain stories in my book *must* be about my own life, that certain stories were in fact about them (the reader). that several stories were far better than the rest, that every story was brilliant, that they didn’t really like it that much, that they didn’t get time to finish it, that the book is very different from me personally, that the book is exactly like me personally, that they don’t really like any short stories so I shouldn’t take it personally, that it should have won the GG, that I would have a hard time topping it, that they’d lost their copies, and that they always knew I could do it.

I had my portrait painted, was the subject of a slideshow, was on the radio (twice), was interviewed about writing and childhood and beer and Jewishness and inspiration, got to teach teenagers to write stories, got to speak on panels, introduce another author, judge writing contests, attend fancy parties, was filmed and tape-recorded and photographed, and had reason enough to wear all my nicest clothes at least a few times each.

I wrote a book. A year later I sort of believe it, and modesty is all well and good but I am so proud of *Once* I can’t even tell you. After a year of readings and three (ish) of writings, I still enjoy reading my own work and think that maybe I really did manage to do something good and interesting with the short story form that I love so much.

I’m writing another book, and it’s hard and messy and confusing and full of backwards turns and really some days nearly impossible. But I do get to sit down at my desk with the knowledge of the above, which is an inestimable gift to my confidence, patience and ambition. Yet another thing I’m grateful for.

I am also grateful to everyone who read the book or a story from it in a journal or in workshop, who came out to see me read, who offered a kind or (constructively) critical word, or said I looked just fine and no one could see my misbuttoned sweater behind the podium. When and if I get this second book published, I’ll get to do another acknowledgements page, thank goodness–I’ll owe even more thanks by then.

Happy birthday, *Once*. May you have many more on library and book-buyers’ shelves.

Not only real but beautiful
RR