Hey K,
I've been sort of waiting to write until I had something good to tell you. Tired of the same old complaints. Well, there's a lot of good in my life, those things like family, friends, having a place to live, a good book now and then. But nothing to actually blog about. So how about you? Any good news from you or anyone else?

Oh, Thrity Umrigar's novel, The Weight of Heaven, is coming out in April, and is getting wonderful pre-pub reviews! So I guess there still is a publishing world, and good books coming out. I'm wishing Thrity the best of luck with this one.

So really, any good news to share?

Peace,
Sarah

book group

Hi K,

I'm going to be running a book discussion group at Loganberry Books. Harriet asked me if I would be interested in doing this, and without much thought, I going to be on the 4th Thursday of each month--Survivor night, and I never miss Survivor, but I guess the idea of talking about books, surrounded by books, in this lovely bookstore, just seemed like a fun thing to do, and I can tape Survivor. Harriet and I talked about what kind of group this would be, and we both agreed we would chose "not new" books--it is a used and rare bookstore! There are so many books I've missed anyway, and so many I love and want to talk about with other book lovers. Just a few weeks ago Harriet turned me on to 84 Charing Cross Road by Helene Hanff, and we figured that would be a good place to start this group--a fun, sweet, short book about a woman who loves books, and her correspondence with a bookseller in London. Harriet knows all sorts of stuff about this book and the author, so she'll be there to share what she knows. You can read about the book group on the Loganberry blog. Maybe you can come? It would be great if my friends came. We could have fun. And I know you could suggest a few books we should read.

Talk later,
Peace,
Sarah

toe in the water

Hi K,


Did you read that thing in TIME, about the future of publishing? It's pretty interesting. It's called Books Unbound, by Lev Grossman. There's a lot to talk about after you read this, but the reason I'm mentioning it now is that I've certainly been afraid of putting my writing out on the web, for a lot of reasons--one, that it hasn't been professionally edited, two, that no one's actually asked for it, and three, that I'm vain and hoped that what I write will be published on paper, and I'll even get paid for it. It does seem, according to Lev Grossman, that many writers are not going to be making money in the same way they used to. So I guess it's a bit like blogging. I ought to give it a try.

And, along with that, I've always been afraid to send my poetry out because it's really personal, and it's not great poetry, I just write it for me. (Many of my stories come out of my poems.)

Anyway, I now climb ladders at work (yep, really, no kidding, who would of thunk it, me being afraid, big time, of heights--any heights), so I'm going to push myself here, too, and post a poem. Nothing to it but to do it. (That's what I say with each step up those ladders--holding books no less.) So here goes.


August 27th, 1966
1
Sleeping in the slat-wood barn
I wake to a chipmunk on my chest,
a trembling, fur-covered heart.
I scream and he scurries off.
I’m twelve and there’s nothing I can do
about chipmunks.

2
Last month my father hitched a rope
to a high branch,
made us a swing.
I push off, pull back, pump.
The woods applaud.
This is easy.
This I can do.

3
My mother cooks cabbage soup,
my father’s favorite.
Upstairs, he coughs that cough,
as if he were cutting down a tree,
or a forest. Chop, chop, chop, chop, chop.

4
I sleep in the barn again,
pretend there’s three feet of snow outside,
a wolf pacing the roof,
my parents dead, not dying.
I will kill bears to survive.

I practice being alone.
In time, I’ll be perfect.

a wrench

Students often ask what to do when they get stuck writing a story. They’ve got a few characters, a time period, place, and a situation, but nothing much is happening. There are all sorts of answers I can give, but one of them is the wrench theory. Sometimes you just have to throw a wrench into the machinery that is just plowing along, taking you only where you expect it to take you, like a large clock, ticking away. Throw a wrench into the gears and sparks fly, smoke billows out, maybe even something catches on fire. People come running. Someone has to do something. Nothing is ever the same. I read about this in some how-to book on writing. It said, "Have a tree fall on someone. See who comes running." I used that advice, and you can see the tree falling in THE REHEARSAL. My characters did things that I didn’t expect–and this is the important part, that after you throw a good sized wrench in, watch and see what your characters do. And hope they surprise you.

I remind my students that this is basically how life works. You’re sailing along, dealing with stuff, handling it somehow, although it may not always be easy. Then you get that phone call, or a drunk driver slams into your car, or the guy at work you hardly know tells you some horrible secret, or your daughter ends up in the Medical Intensive Care Unit (you thought she just had the flu) and it turns out she has sudden onset Type 1 Diabetes, and she’ll have to give herself insulin shots every day for the rest of her life, and you are afraid of needles, and can’t imagine how she is going to deal with this, and everyone cries, and then, oh my god, she figures out how to do all this amazing stuff, checking blood sugars, giving herself shots, measuring carbohydrates, giving up most simple sugars, and hardly a week has passed, but life has changed, and you’ve found out that your daughter, who you know so well, can still completely surprise you.

Literary fiction is character driven. It’s about the characters. The plot is how a character deals with a problem, or problems. Plot devices are the war, the tornado, the tree falling, the diabetes, the problems. Sometimes we have to do bad things to our characters to see who they really are, and what the plot is about. And the fun part is when they surprise us.

And yes, it’s been a rough few weeks here, but my daughter is an amazing young woman. I’ll get back to fiction soon. Right now I’m just wondering where the hell that wrench came from–not the most productive question though. Things just happen, right out of the blue. As a writer, you get to be the wrench thrower. As a human being, you can get hit pretty hard. I am so lucky to be able to say she’ll be fine. Sometimes that’s not what people can say. My heart goes out to them.

Peace and all good things, such as health and happiness.
Sarah

Good news!

Hi K,

I have good news, and these days, with all the doom and gloom, I'm just going to sing a little, enjoy a good moment in my life. My story, "Swimming with Dolphins" in Chautauqua, 20th Anniversary of the Chautauqua Writers' Center has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize. How lovely to know the editors think it's such a good story. This certainly helps me to keep my butt in the seat, my fingers tapping away.

As a matter of fact, that's what I'm going to do right now. Work on that that final draft (I hope!) of the next novel. . .

Peace and all good things,
Sarah

Dear K,

We keep talking about the publishing industry and then get depressed and have to change the subject to happier things. There are, thankfully, happier things in both our lives. But shit... I'm afraid I'm going to depress you again. I found this story while searching for news about the publishing house where my novel is supposedly being read. Go take a look at this. http://www.wowowow.com/books/sara-nelson-houghton-mifflin-harcourt-stop-presses-148411

What do you think about them apples?

Peace,
Sarah

new job

Dear K,
Hello again. Lot’s of excuses for not writing sooner. One of them, though, I get to blame on Neal, who suggested a few novels to read. I got Beauty, by Sherri S. Tepper, and I’m loving it. So thanks to Neal for that. It’s a retelling of Sleeping Beauty and the story completely pulls me in (as well as the writing), and I find I’m making more time to read again. It’s amazing the time you can find to read when a book won’t let you go.

Also, I’m writing again. A couple essays, the next novel, book reviews. Can’t say what triggered it, but I’m glad it’s back again. And I’ve started another job. (I’m one, obviously, who pieces together my life. Sometimes I wonder if a nine to five job would be easier–I’d be in one place all day, get a steady paycheck, etc, but I just can’t see myself doing that.) Anyway, I’m going to work part time at Loganberry Books. I went there a few weeks ago and "I’d love to work here," slipped out of my mouth, and I realized I meant it. Harriet, who owns the place, actually took me at my word, called me up, interviewed me (that was not easy–she had a test I had to take, and I freeze on tests), then called and said she’d like to give me try. I imagine I’ll shelve books, sell books, take care of books, all in this lovely bookstore, somewhere around 15 hours a week. Stop in if you can. I’ll be there Wednesday, Friday and Saturday afternoons.

So now I’m teaching at JCU, Hiram (coming up), Antioch’s low residency program, have a few private students, am working at a bookstore, and writing. It’s not as much as it sounds–I still have the best life, writing this now in my PJ’s, loving all I do–and then there’s Ron, loving me and helping in all ways. And I write more the less time I have. Don’t know why. You ever find you do that? Write more when free time actually gets tighter? I wonder what that’s all about.
Anyway, off to read a bit of Beauty. I’m with Neal–I highly recommend it.

Peace,
Sarah

sorry

Dear K,
I am ashamed. Something in my emotional core yelled duck and cover, and I have. I have never played chicken like this before. I believed I was tougher than any adversary. Words and will power. Friends and good karma. These things would get me through. And they did. You know that. And really, I’m okay, safe and sound and loved. But I can find peace now only in a small space I’ve found for myself. I apologize for this, because it’s wrong not to fight the need to duck and cover–if I’m not in the actual way of harm. But so much I love is. Which makes it even worse I’m not up and fighting, but allow me this, please, for a little. It’s just my turn, and I’m taking it. There are so many people out there speaking up about the world and politics, in wise and passionate ways. I can’t add to that, and I never meant this blog to do that anyway. It was supposed to be about writing and reading. So here: I just read The Talented Mr. Ripley by Patricia Highsmith. A page-turner. A fascinating story that pulled me into a make-believe world. I need more page-turners. God, remember reading Shogun for the first time? The Stand? If you have any suggestions, let me know. I want a big fat book.

Peace and all good things,
and love, always that,
Sarah

what's up

Dear K,

Sorry I haven't written to you for a while. Lot's of excuses, but the one that's really stopping me from even the simple task of sitting at my computer and typing is the state of publishing and what's happening with fiction these days. Not that's there's not great books out there being published, but . . . hell you know what I'm taking about. You read Publishers Lunch, too, and Publishers Weekly. It's scary, just like everything is these days--politics, economics, the environment. . . I want to stay in bed, or live in the woods. I can hardly breathe when I read the news.

But we can't stay in bed all day or hide in the woods--although the novel I'm working on, when I work on it, is exactly about someone who has decided to hide, literally, in the woods. But the real me is out and about, taking in what is good in the world, like the two great literary events in town last week, The Lit's Writers & Their Friends Event, and The Anisfield Wolf Book Awards. And I'm teaching at The Western Reserve Writers' Conference this coming Saturday, and then I'm doing a really cool gig at The Cleveland Clinic, talking about my art to patients, their families, and the people who work there. The Clinic has set up a program with The Cleveland Arts Prize to bring past prize winners in to talk about their art. I'll let you know how that goes. Just wanted to say hi, let you know I'm still around.

Peace and all good things,
Sarah

what is creative nonfiction?

Dear K,

Since I’m teaching Creative Nonfiction now at JCU, I thought I'd look up some of the words I wanted to talk about on the first day of class, just to see how they were "officially" defined. I went to Dictionary.com. Some of the definitions made me less sure about what the words themselves really meant, and I always hate it when they use a version of the word to define the word. But as I went along, one word lead to another. It became a circular/maze kind of game that had some appeal to me, to see how enlightened and confused I could get at the same time. I printed up this list and gave it to my students. It seemed a good way to start a conversation about this class, which is really an art class offered through the English department. I wanted to give them some warning that it wouldn’t be like most of the other classes they might be taking, where there’s a right answer and a wrong answer. What I found by looking up the definitions was a good way to begin this conversation. So I thought I'd show you it, too, since this is the kind of stuff we talk about. I didn't get to "Truth" yet, although it certainly did come up in the classroom conversation.

Creative Nonfiction: Your search for 'Creative Nonfiction' did not match any dictionary results.

Fiction: 1) Something invented by the imagination. 2) An invented story.

Nonfiction: 1) Narrative prose dealing with or offering opinions or conjectures upon facts and reality. 2) Literature or cinema that is not fictional.

Literature: Writings in which expression and form, in connection with ideas of permanent and universal interest, are characteristic or essential features, as poetry, novels, history, biography, and essays.

Story: A narrative, either true or fictitious, in prose or verse, designed to interest, amuse, or instruct the hearer or reader; tale.

Narrative: 1) A story or account of events, experiences, or the like, whether true or fictitious. 2) A book, literary work, etc., containing such a story. 3) The art, technique, or process of narrating.

Subjective: 1) Existing in the mind; belonging to the thinking subject rather than to the object of thought (opposed to objective). 2) Pertaining to or characteristic of an individual; personal; individual: a subjective evaluation. 3) Placing excessive emphasis on one's own moods, attitudes, opinions, etc.; unduly egocentric.

Objective: 1) Something that one's efforts or actions are intended to attain or accomplish; purpose; goal; target: the objective of a military attack; the objective of a fund-raising drive. 2) Not influenced by personal feelings, interpretations, or prejudice; based on facts; unbiased: an objective opinion. 3) Intent upon or dealing with things external to the mind rather than with thoughts or feelings, as a person or a book.

Art: 1) The quality, production, expression, or realm, according to aesthetic principles, of what is beautiful, appealing, or of more than ordinary significance. 2) The class of objects subject to aesthetic criteria.

Aesthetic: Pertaining to, involving, or concerned with pure emotion and sensation as opposed to pure intellectuality.