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Read it while it’s hot. A friend of mine recently described the feeling you get when seeing something like this – she compared it to those dreams where you show up to school wearing a garbage sack or something meanwhile everyone else is dressed and staring at you. Now I understand what she means, because that’s a bit how it feels to read your first review. Actually, hold on. I recently had a dream in which I’m pulled over by the police with a trunk full of drugs. In the dream I’m thinking, “how did all these drugs get into my car? I don’t even do drugs.” The officers on scene decide to give me a test that’ll decide whether they arrest me or not. The test is an actual, 10-question multiple choice test. And I can’t understand the questions. Yes, I think that comes close to reading your first review.

Read the Review

Ruth Padel, not Derek Walcott, for the position of Oxford Professor of Poetry. Sorry Derek. Guess you shouldn’t have let that student file sexual harassment accusations when you were teaching at Harvard all those years ago. (I don’t know what I mean by that.)

Guardian Story

Had the chance to meet Walcott several years ago when he visited my university. Ever since reading this story in The New Yorker about what a nice guy he is, I’ve always tried to resist all the bad stories. Nonetheless, I got to witness the Nobel baby in action first person when a friend of mine “accosted” him after a panel. She had a question about his interpretation about Eliot’s “The Wasteland.” And he had…to go. He chuckled and said, “Go fetch my coat.” She simply didn’t know what to do. She laughed along with him and kept shaking her head. ‘You’re coat?” she said and he nodded. “Yes, go get it.” Too bad he didn’t slap her on the rump for good measure. (Yes, that is sarcasm.)

In a recent NY Times blog, technology and textbook writer Peter Wayner says, “I’m not going to write more books if the revenues will be wiped out by pirates.” In his introspective rant, he explains how easy it’s gotten the last couple of years to make entire books available online for free. I’ve got several things to say in response.

First, I feel Wayner’s pain – but not as much as he feels it, not yet at least. If you go by many literary novelists and publishers, them Internets is hurting us writers, whether we be academics or struggling pros. Nine out of ten stories I read about the impact of technology on publishing say that e-sellers, the Kindle, and piracy are bleeding the market and have been responsible for the shut down of hundreds of independent bookstores. That’s sad. But the picture is obviously more complex than anyone to date has illustrated.

Second, is it up to authors, bookstores, and publishers to learn how to stop piracy? Yes, and there are more ways than I’d realized. Reading the comments and responses to Wayner’s blog post has made me realize just how possible it is to combat piracy in all forms. Clever, clever stuff. But nobody’s going to do it for us. We must learn. The Authors Guild, from whom I get pretty frequent emails updating me on what I’ll briefly call “The Kindle Situation,” has been working on this front.

Third, I agree that it’s “hard to sue the students who read my books, even though I think the prices are a huge bargain.” But shame on him for even suggesting that option. I also don’t fully agree with his implication that “While $50 seems like a lot to pay for a book, the universities can charge up to $5,000 for a course that often touches upon half of the material in a book.” I’ve been a student. I am a student. And I’m a teacher. This fall I’ll take a course with 13 books that I can’t find much cheaper than $20. Odds are I’ll pay at least $200 for books this semester – and that’s nothing compared to what undergraduates enrolled in five courses shell out. It’s a tired argument, yes, but what do we expect from a growing student population that works 20 hours a week or more while slogging through their BA or BS? Speaking as a teacher, I’d frankly be happy if my students bothered to illegally download as many books to read as they’re tempted to download movies and music. Last semester I also worked as a writing center consultant, and I was pretty disappointed to find out how many students try to skid through big lecture courses without ever considering that they should buy-or read-the required texts.

Fourth, sadly, is that I can’t echo Wayner’s threat to stop writing books if piracy wipes out the revenue. Probably I don’t have full-blown hypergraphia – but many novelists have a bad habit of writing for free or for very little money. Why? Reasons vary from noble to selfish. But I’d assume that most writers share the notion that writing is “fun,” if not also pretty “abrasive.” Writers churn out dozens of books, stories, essays, and poems that’ll never see the light of day. I have a feeling that even Wayner doesn’t mean what he says. Can the act of writing a textbook or instruction manual or dictionary be as pleasant, adventurous, and wild as writing a play? Go ask Samuel Johnson. I don’t know. But, personally, I’ve always wanted to write or edit a textbook. Think I’ll start now.

Yes, this is about writing. I’ve been on a Chris Cornell kick for some reason the past couple of weeks, probably because I’ve discovered youtube as a great way to find bootlegs and recordings of shows in places like Toronto. I’ve also stumbled across an interesting interview during which Cornell explains how he has taken to writing (see?) song lyrics on a blackberry.

There’s a nice few seconds near the end of this video for old school Soundgarden fans, as Cornell explains how and when he wrote the song and lyrics for “Black Hole Sun.” I won’t spoil it here. Follow the link. Suffice to say it reminded me of how Marquez got the idea for A Hundred Years of Solitude.

Cornell on Blackberry

No kidding. If someone tapped me to ghost-write the memoir Palin just signed a deal for, I’d take the job without a second thought. I would turn her life story into a massive, Finnegan-esque saga full of rapture, passion, and political intrigue, and sports, and wildlife. I vow that, should Sarah C. Palin pick me to write her memoir, I will create a wondrous tapestry of words and images of such complexity that professors will puzzle over its ambiguities and paradoxes for decades – if not centuries. Library shelves will groan under the weight of scholarly books devoted to what shall be called Palin Fire.

According to the official reports, the former VP pick won’t fess up as to how much she’ll rake in from her advance + royalties. There’s at least two reasons for this – she’s been promised a lot more than Obama was for his memoir, or a lot less.

Either way, I’m game and I want to make that public. To make my candidacy official, I’d like to propose some sample first sentences for the memoir:

“It was a dark and stormy and really, really cold night.”

“It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single white Anglo-Saxon Protestant male in possession of a good fortune, but questionable health, must be in want of a good running mate.”

“A screaming comes across the Alaskan sky. It has happened before, but there is nothing to compare it to now that I own this nifty automatic.”

“We were somewhere around Moosehead on the edge of the Canadian wilderness when the holy spirit began to take hold. I remember saying something like ‘I feel a bit light headed; maybe you should ski…’ And suddenly there was a terrible roar all around us and the sky was full of what looked to be giant angels.”

I would offer to ghost-write Obama’s memoir, but I don’t think he’ll need quite as much help.

Palin Story

News just arrived that Through the Pale Door was named a finalist for the 2009 Next Generation Indie Book Awards. That means we’ve earned a little street cred and recognition at the upcoming Book Expo of America in New York. I’m already drinking my celebratory cup of coffee. The list of finalist should be posted in a few days on their website:

Indie Book Awards

I would be drinking champagne, except I already had a couple of drinks before finding out. In other news, my apartment people did some major work on the upstairs floor today so I might be able to write in peace now. (Does someone have some wood to knock on?)

.Eternal Gaze
The work and life story of Alberto Giacometti had a huge impact on me when writing and re-writing the book, so I was happy to watch this short animated film by Sam Chen.

I stumbled on him when reading a New Yorker piece by John Updike (RIP). I don’t remember much about the article but I remember the first time looking at his sculptures. I’m not sure when exactly they worked their way into the story, but they had an especially big impact on my conceptualization of Sarah and Monday, the psychotic artist mother.

Now that grades are entered, final papers are done, and the pollen is flying, it’s the perfect time to swallow some meds and get down to some serious writing. The Pirate’s Alley Faulkner Society has extended their usual deadline for us lazy writers to June first. Apparently 60 of us whiny snots called and begged them to push it back, and what insane person would turn down that many potential submissions?

Faulkner Wisdom Contest

Now that the last week of the semester has arrived, I’m building a summer reading list when I should be writing papers and/or grading. Meeting the folks from Press 53 in Winston-Salem, I’ve added a few to an already-long list (http://www.press53.com/). Here’s what I have so far: The Art of Tim Burton (yes, that IS reading), Neil Gaiman’s Neverwhere, finish American Gods, George Singleton’s Work Shirts for Madmen, Ron Rash’s Serena, John Ehle’s The Land Breakers, Golda Fried’s Neville is my Darling, and more to come.

Here’s my nerd reading list: Kristeva’s Nations without Nationalism, Fraser’s Scales of Justice, Mike Rose’s new book, Yancey’s Delivering Composition, etc.

All Friday and Saturday I walked around and chatted with writers and editors, running home now and then to write a seminar paper and grabbing a few hours’ sleep each trip. I listened to stories about elephants hanged for homicides and stories of overpaid college presidents and stories about the Civil Rights movement. I gave away half a dozen copies of the book and found out exactly all of the creativity that goes on at UNCG.

Memories flooded back from Greensboro Review’s literary magazine and press festival a couple of years ago, the first one they ever hosted. Back then I was working for Yemassee and predicting that my thesis, which became this novel, would wind up in slush piles in some of New York’s finest literary agencies and publishing houses. (There’s a scene in Franzen’s The Corrections in which a NY literary agent’s daughter decorates the back of a slush pile mss. with crayons.) I’d just suffered a tremendous breakup. After sitting all afternoon at our booth at UNCG, my fellows and I went “tearing it up” in college town Greensboro. I remember almost starting a conversation with a cute girl and muttering to myself, “Oh, just forget it” as I returned to my table with a depressingly soggy slice of pizza.

In three years, both the festival and I have rebounded – doubling in size (the festival, not me). But sadly, I heard the Backward City Review had folded due to creative differences. A few of the journals I’d hoped to see–Sewanee Review and Chattahoochee Review, weren’t present this time around.

Boy. Sunday afternoon has now turned into Monday morning. After a marathon of work, I felt oddly compelled at 3 a.m. to watch all of Barton Fink online. I’d never seen it. Now I know exactly what not to do as a writer. In fact, after finishing the film, I’m so terrified that I’ll swear here and now: I will always listen to the common man. Always! Really! Or, wait, the next man who claims to be common and has “stories to tell,” I’ll run screaming into the hills. Yes, that’s the moral of this movie. John Goodman + mysterious package = run. I think. Z’ounds, I hope he’s got enough sense not to open that box on the beach.