Junot Diaz rocks!

Well, tonight I visited NYC to see Junot Diaz read from his Pulitzer-prize winning book "The Brief Wonderous Life of Oscar Wao," at the Solas Bar on 9th Street. The place was packed, packed, PACKED! And after listening to Mr. Diaz and then meeting him afterwards for the book-signing, I can understand why.

First off, he is one of the most down-to-earth people I've ever met and he's quite the funny guy, which I think that can be reasonably assumed after reading his work. When he was reading, his voice was very animated, so there was no droning to lull the audience to sleep. It was also quite the experience to hear how the author intended the words to sound, too.

After the reading, he took questions from the audience. The Q&A part was kind of hard to hear because Solas was small and very crowded, but there were some things that made it through. For example, he thinks that how America teaches its children to read is completely wrong. (He's originally from the Dominican Republic and came to the U.S. in 1976.) The reason is that he believes reading is like developing a muscle. As an example, he said the American method is like if someone who had never physically exercised before approached a group of jocks and said they had a interest in exercise. The jocks would respond with something along the lines of "well, that's great! Tomorrow we go on a 14-mile run." Then they would force that person to run it and if they didn't successfully, they would fail. Mr. Diaz said that his best friend, who is Japanese, said that most of Japan's literacy rate can be attributed to comic books. That comment got a laugh, but he said that kidding aside, that it was true. His theory for successfully teaching children to read is to start simple and gradually build that reading muscle, and also that the material should be interesting to the students.

After the Q&A part, he signed copies of his book. Mr. Diaz was very warm and friendly and took the time to speak with everyone, as well as autograph the books. He also allowed pictures to be taken with his fans. Yes, the wait was ridiculous, but it was worth it. How often does one get to be that close to a Pulitzer Prize winner? Hopefully, breathing some of the same air will help my writing!

If some of you are interested in going to a reading, the following is a link to his website that has his touring dates and locations: http://www.junotdiaz.com/tour.html I strongly recommend that you go. One thing though -- he curses a lot, so if you are easily offended...well, maybe you could put that aside for an evening.

Cool info

I'm not sure if everyone or anyone knows who Junot Diaz is, but he is going to be giving a reading this coming Monday, November 24 at 7:30 p.m. at the Solas Bar in NYC. There is no admission fee. Here's a link for more info: http://www.noslander.com/stmarksbookshopreadings.html Hope to see some of you there!

A Really Big "Whew!"

So…I’m always a bit afraid at the beginning of a semester when I see an assigned novel on the syllabus. It’s not that I do not like to read. I love to read. In fact, I used to get in trouble all through school for reading in class (my stuff, not what the teacher assigned), I love the smell of bookstores and wish I could bottle it, and I get very anxious if I’m getting to the end of a book and there is no back-up literature at hand. Sorry, going off on a tangent – my point is that in one of my other classes I saw a *yikes!* novel on the syllabus and let out a sigh of resignation. But surprisingly, I really like the book…and I’m having trouble putting it down.

It’s Harbor by Lorraine Adams. The complex story is about an illegal immigrant from Algeria who stows away on a ship to get into the United States via Boston. The author’s imagery is superb in that I get a full sense of where the characters are from the mood, smells, sounds and physical descriptions. Harbor is also told from the point of view of the main character and the style is such that the reader is experiencing simultaneously what the character is experiencing; the reader only knows what the character knows at that moment. Adams captures that fear, anxiousness, and excitement of someone coming to a new land with hopes of a better life. There is a thread of mystery through out the story as I am trying to figure out what is the main character’s purpose here in the U.S. Is he looking for refuge, or is he a terrorist? Was he initially here for a terrorist plan but is having second thoughts? In the meantime, there are plenty of other things going on and the relationships are complex between the various characters: illegal and legal immigrants, relatives, security and government officials, criminals, husbands, wives, and lovers. Adams also seems to have very good insight on the isolation of a foreigner, as well as the assimilation process.

So, I cannot believe I’m actually saying this, but I’m recommending a book that was actually assigned in a class!

You think it woulda happened sooner...

I have always loved to read. But, when the question was posed about what book saved my life, I was at a loss. This was weird because I have read so many books -- I mean when there were difficult times in my life, I escaped into a book. However, I cannot recall any one specific book. Also, in a literal sense, I don't think I was ever in a position where a book saved my life, like my Webster's Unabridged Dictionary stopped a stray bullet from hitting my forehead. So, I just kept on thinking...and it finally hit me -- WHAMMO! I'm not sure if this counts, but the book that saved my life is my journal, which is still a work-in-progress and helps to save me a little each time I crack it open to make an entry. Let me explain: Back in February of this year, my mom was diagnosed with Stage IV pancreatic cancer and, well, the whole situation was surreal seeming to have come out of left field. The doctors gave her six months. I was reeling from that news, as well as from some other things happening in my life. I felt that I was going to explode and I started shutting down because I didn't want to deal with anything. About a week later, a close friend gave me a beautiful journal and told me to write, it will help with what I'm dealing with. I'm thinking, "I write all the time..." but there is something different about putting the pen to paper literally. Of course, computers make things easier sometimes, and maybe faster...but I couldn't track my writing process (all the scribbles, arrows, carrots, etc.); I couldn't bring my computer anywhere I felt like; and, I couldn't doodle during thinking with a computer. My friend said that the journal was meant to be a therapeutic tool and it is. Who knew there was someone out there who understood me better than myself? I started writing thoughts, then some poems and eventually started what I hope will morph into a novel. I lost my mom in July and when I'm alone at night and the grief gets a little too much to bear and I can't sleep no matter what, that journal keeps me company and helps me work through it. My journal is my buoy.

Hunter S. Thompson

I know that the topic of "politics" is kind of a no-no, but with the upcoming election and everyone a political pundit, it's a topic that is hard to escape. BUT this is going somewhere regarding writing, people, don't worry! A friend of mine recently recommended that I read the works of Hunter S. Thompson because the author has a unique writing style that I might find entertaining. (There are some of you who have heard of the movie "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas" starring Johnny Depp -- it's about Thompson.) Now personally, I'm not a big fan of non-fiction, but I trust my friend's opinion, so I picked up two books: Better Than Sex: Confessions of a Political Junkie Trapped Like a Rat in Mr. Bill's Neighborhood and Fear and Loathing in America: The Brutal Odyssey of and Outlaw Journalist (The Gonzo Letters, Volume II). I began the Better Than Sex book and I haven't been able to put it down. It follows Thompson's experience during the campaign of the '92 election and it's a doozy. Thompson's sometimes crude, almost always humorous, and his analogies are "out there," but it is informative (albeit biased) regarding the happenings during a big-time political campaign that We The People aren't typically privy to. I cannot wait to finish this book and continue on with Thompson's other works. On a tangent, a question that is sometimes thrown out there to people are "name three people you would like to have lunch with." There are different variations on this query, such as the number of people or that the people can be alive or dead. Anyway, the point I'm trying to make is Hunter S. Thompson I have added to my list. Unfortunately, he would be on the "dead" list thanks to a self-inflicted gunshot wound back in 2005.

When is it overkill?

Okay, so the topic today is how does a writer know when to stop with the details in a story. What is reasonable to assume your readers know? This is a subject I'm constantly struggling with in my own writing. From an artist's viewpoint, I want to paint as clear a picture as possible to my audience of what is happening in the story -- a mental movie, if you will. But there are instances when I am reviewing my work and I'm like, "Dang! I'm like that person who won't shut up at a party!" I believe that everyone knows someone who is so intent on describing the minutae that they lose their audience, whether it be out of boredom or because he or she has strayed so far off topic, they have no idea what the hell the point is anymore. When reviewing some of my pieces, it is hard for me to figure out what is relevant and what isn't to the story. I mean, I KNOW what I want to say, I can SEE the story/movie playing in my head, but I'm afraid of ASSUMING that the reader knows what I'm talking about. So I end up in Overkill Land. The only solution I have come up with is when I finish writing something, I hand it off to a friend for review, preferably to someone I haven't been brainstorming with because they know what my intentions are in a story. Also, the value of workshopping can not be underrated either. What I would like to know is for all of those professional writers out there, do they struggle with this issue also? Or do they hand off their work for review to either friends or editors in order to find out if they need to add or subtract from their stories? It would help to know what the Chosen Ones think on this topic of details.

Muse Online

Sometimes inspiration doesn't visit me when I need it. That pressure of "oh you have to write an 8-page story due in, hmm, two days" sometimes sparks some ideas, but more often it just creates an incoherent whirlwind in my head, ideas flashing by like the occasional cow or maybe pick-up truck in a tornado -- saw enough to know what the object it, but it is gone before you can get any specifics. So, when I visited Big Window and saw all the writing exercise ideas, it was a huge relief. Hopefully, I will never have to suffer through another Writer's Block again! (yeah, right HAHA!) Below are just a few of my favorites:

http://theothermother.typepad.com/bigwindow/2008/08/im-a-blur.html -- Try this while riding on a train, subway, bus, or car. At a high speed, the familiar suddenly becomes the unfamiliar. Try writing while riding. Capture the blur. Warning: it is illegal to try this writing exercise while driving in the state of California.
I suffer from motion sickness, so I'm usually staring out the window in a moving car, train, etc. I thought this was a cool idea because trying to write about the little blurred peek of the new "surroundings", which is totally abstract, could create some great writing. Colors, the feeling I am experiencing about my destination and where I just left, the people traveling with me -- all into the mental melting pot dripping onto the page.


http://theothermother.typepad.com/bigwindow/2007/07/altering-alters.html -- Altering Alters All -- Dan has posted some great new work on his Altered Books blog.
I like that the poem is a piece of art when it is completed. There is no stress to this writing because the words are right there in front of you. Depending on what the tone of the poem you chose to highlight is, you can emphasize the effect with the use of color. I’m actually going to try this!

http://theothermother.typepad.com/bigwindow/2006/03/open_19.html -- Write a poem consisting solely of overheard conversation. (Source: Charles Bernstein, 66 Writing Experiments)
I love to people-watch. I also amuse myself with some of the conversations I overhear. I never thought to put it together into a poem, but I can see how this would be interesting. Especially when it's really crowded and people are moving fast all around you, like in a mall around Christmas time.

James Joyce

Okay, I'm going to admit it: I'm not a big James Joyce fan. My opinion of his work is (1) either I'm too ignorant to understand his genius, or (2) that he purposely made his work so confusing and no one wanted to admit that they didn't "get it", so they touted it to be some of the greatest writing of all time. Personally, I'm going with No. 1 because that many scholars can't be wrong. Anyway...that isn't really the assignment here, so forgive my digression.

In my research of James Joyce, I was surprised to find out that his family dealt with poverty. I always assumed (yes, I know where assuming often leads...) that he came from a wealthy family. He seems to have a good grasp of the elite, but then again, it was as if he was poking fun at them. I understand that his father was a tax collector, but because he aired some negative opinions in a poem, he ended up losing his job. Good for him, however, not when you have ten kids to feed. Which leads me to the next fact I learned: I was surprised to find out that James Joyce came from such a large family -- I always thought that a sense of lonliness pervaded his works. Why that led me to believe that he was an only child, I don't have a clue.

I wish I had known a little more background on James Joyce prior to my assigned readings in the past. I think I would have read into his stories a little more and maybe even enjoyed them a bit. Once all this craziness of the semester settles down, I'm going to have to give ol' Jimmy another chance...

Workshop Babble

I'm new to this blogging thing and I'm not sure what I'm supposed to be writing about. So, here goes another entry: You know, I feel it's always a bit of a crapshoot when it comes to a workshop environment. I think it all boils down to chemistry whether or not it's going to be (a) a productive class, and (b) it will not feel like an eternity. Last Thursday, I really found myself enjoying all of the stories and poems that my classmates shared. Even though I was riding the Caffiene Bus, I wasn't anxious to bolt out the door. There was a great variety of styles and the skill level was up there. Let's face it -- most people take night classes because they have to. Jobs, family, and sometimes more classes fill their daytime hours. Maturity and mutual respect I find in greater abundance in night classes, too. I like that our class seems to be lacking in the deluded-psuedo-artist department -- yes, you know the type. Try too hard to be obscure and figure they'll fool everyone into mistaking their nonsense work for genius? Obvious attempts to be "quirky"? Speak with an affected tone? Anyway, I think our class has that special chemistry which will make a productive semester fly by. Do I sound like a kiss-ass? I hope not. I'm just babbling about the first topic that came to mind: my feelings regarding where I spend my Thursday nights.

Abstraction poem

Generosity

My grandparents giving me “pin money.”
Spending it at Barnes & Noble on a rainy Saturday afternoon.
Getting rid of the chill after the bookstore stop by
relaxing amid bubbles in a claw-foot tub,
my book’s pages wilting slightly in the humid air.
Relaxed now, I sink into crisp clean sheets, cool to the touch,
smelling faintly of Tide detergent and bleach,
and I continue with my story all snuggled up and warm.
The hissing of the light rain outside my window slows my breath
and makes my book heavier in my hand.
The rising sun makes the inside of my eyelids go gradually from black to gray.
Swinging my legs off the side of the bed, I let my toes wiggle
a good morning to the plush pink carpet.
Reaching towards the scarf-covered ceiling my mom’s voice wafts up
the stairs, gently urging me to start my new day.

Abstraction Exercise

In class last week, we had to do an exercise which we were given words representing an abstract concept and then had three minutes to write down the images that came to mind. It was a fun and insightful exercise, to say the least. For example, the word "rage" was given and somehow I got from "rage" to a "commercial depicting a brightly colored tossed salad." It could have been that I hadn't eaten dinner before class, but it was weird knowing that my mind went drastically off on a tangent. This exercise is certainly one I will be using for any future poems I write; I will sometimes get stuck on an abstract concept and it is hard to get around all of the cliches. In the past, whenever I used a concrete image to describe an abstraction, it was usually by accident.

Stay tuned for the next posting, a poem created by using the abstraction exercise....

Wow, that was easier than expected!

This is my first attempt at creating and writing a blog. The process of setting it up went a little easier than I had anticipated! Now, if I can just lose this standing-in-front-of-everyone-in-my-underwear feeling, I might be able to think of something with substance to type.