September’s Roundup of links takes you to a new edition of a favorite book, an opportunity to put pen to paper, and another favorite episode from the New Yorker Fiction Podcast.
#AmReading
A few years ago, I bought a copy of Tell It Slant by Brenda Miller and Suzanne Paola, a must-have if you write creative nonfiction, especially if you love flash nonfiction.
I bought the e-book first, wanting to immediately start reading. Later, I took the book out on loan from the library, because I like to see much-loved books in print. Finally, I ordered my own copy, but not before I accidentally marked up a passage in the library’s copy.
Whoops. Talk about writer’s remorse.
Anyway, when the 3rd edition of Tell It Slant came out, I wasn’t sure I wanted to buy a whole new version (I hadn’t yet marked up my 2nd edition in full). But after reading an excerpt on Jane Friedman’s site and discovering that this updated text includes new material, writing exercises, and an anthology of essays as examples of great work, I placed my order.
With chapters and exercises on character development and dialogue, on finding your story and choosing a structure, this book provides a mountain of resources for anyone, whether you write nonfiction or even fiction.
#AmWriting
I have more reasons, other than my own desire to learn more, in studying such a great book: I am gathering material.
In this 6-week course (November 2-December 14), we will still discuss principles of creativity and story, but we’ll tap into different books, you’ll find new lessons and videos for inspiration, and you’ll write from a fresh set of prompts.
Seats are limited and registrations are already coming in. Grab your spot today and join us! It’s a low-stakes, fun way to keep your pen moving during the fall months and early holidays.
Part of the fun in creating a course or redesigning one is the search for videos and podcasts that will kick off a week’s curriculum and spark a fire. I pull from several different sources, but one I continue to love and appreciate is the New Yorker Fiction Podcast.
I don’t always catch every episode, but recently I listened to Etgar Keret read Janet Frame’s “You Are Now Entering the Human Heart.”
The story itself is wonderful, but what adds to the experience is the conversation between Etgar Keret and Deborah Treisman about the story.
In this 45 minute podcast, Keret and Treisman discuss craft, but they also talk about the way life and writing come together. As Keret says:
There is something about [Frame’s] writing, she needs to write to survive. . . . By finalizing the story, she will be able to feel less a stranger to herself.
You’ll get a glimpse into Janet Frame’s process as seen through the eyes of another author, as well as hear a little about Keret’s process. I’ve listened to the episode twice, and there’s still more I can learn.
“I’ve let myself just run on like that. I’ve decided that saying something is better than saying something perfectly. Maybe I’ll go back and make it better. Maybe I won’t.”
*Inspired by Jan Wilberg’s post, “Addicted” (read hers in full HERE), I wanted to use the quote above as a writing prompt.
In letters. On the phone. Face to face. I ask too many questions. I want to know all the details, the trajectory, the plan of action. I’ve let myself just run on like that. Maybe I am predicting every possible scenario, maybe I am collecting story. Mark me anxious or curious or well-rounded in thought, but never mark me without words.
In conversation with my father after my grandmother–his mother–passes away, I sit across from him, the span of his desk and piles of her papers between us. I wonder aloud about her growing up, his growing up. I learn that she had another sibling who died very young, his name left off of the family tree until years later when my grandmother or her sister or…(a detail I have forgotten now) wanted to acknowledge a baby brother, a missing piece to the puzzle of family. I learn that my father played the steel guitar when he was young–in a band! I have never known him to be musical, other than being a fan of Willie Nelson and the old greats. Perhaps because the house was quiet, perhaps because a death makes us more willing, I’ve let myself just run on like that, asking questions, uncovering answers, and he has too.
My daughter goes without her phone one afternoon, and I panic. Well, first I get angry, sure that she is ignoring my text messages–I’m here. Where are you? Hello?, not taking my calls. THEN, my mind turns to the worst. I call another parent, circle the block several times. When answers finally come and she is just down the street, she gets into the car and I let loose with words. Questions. Assumptions. She is learning the art of communication. So am I. Still, I’ve let myself just run on like that, repeating myself for emphasis, falling into a lecture, hands in the air, until finally she stops me. I can see in her eyes she has had enough of my going on. And so have I. We drive in silence, through an intersection, we round a corner, we climb a hill. I lose sight of where I am. Fear got the best of me, I say. At home, we move to separate spaces. Later, I take her to dinner, knowing a change of scenery (and a change of topic) will bring us both back. I tell her about my yoga class that day, how the teacher talked about transitions between poses, how they are so hard but so important. We tend to rush through them, just wanting to get to the other side, and we miss so much. We don’t even think about the steps we must take to get from a warrior pose to a standing pose, tall and strong with arms out like a sunflower. Gaze lifted. Hearts open. Breathe in, breathe out.
“When everyone in the house is finally asleep, I step outside. It is fall in the Midwest and sometimes that means the air is made of silk. My feet bare on the concrete driveway, the night feels good against my skin. Almost like a secret human touch.”
~ from “Tell Me Something I Don’t Know” in We Will Tell You Otherwise.
The gift of stories, fiction or non, is in finding connections: the writer connecting with the reader by creating relatable characters, and the reader rediscovering self as she views the world through the eyes of these characters.
Beth Mayer’s We Will Tell You Otherwise (just released from Black Lawrence Press), is a collection of short stories about the human spirit and our need for strong connections.
From a father and son brought closer by the death of a stranger, to a mother who takes over the itinerary of a failing family vacation to save her own spirit and that of her kids, to a young wannabe psychic who provides temporary promise in her prediction, Mayer offers readers a close look at the intimacy and ties created in conversations and in correspondence.
Winner of the Hudson Prize (2017), We Will Tell You Otherwise is called “slyly ironic and often sardonic” by David Haynes (A Star in the Face of the Sky), who also says is “these stories kept me smiling all the way through.”
Beth Mayer stopped by during Short Story Month in May, and I’m thrilled to host her again, this time for an author interview. I’m also hosting a giveaway! ENTER HERE by Tuesday, August 27th, for a chance to win a copy of Mayer’s new collection (courtesy of Caitlin Hamilton Marketing & Publicity and Black Lawrence Press).
Now, welcome Beth Mayer!
Christi Craig (CC): In your guest post on my blog during Short Story Month, you talk about the complexity in crafting short stories and say, “I have grown to understand how, when I give myself permission, a short story determines itself.” How did this collection come together? Did you have a plan from the beginning or did the whole of the book fall into place organically?
Beth Mayer: I’ve been writing short stories for a long time. Once I got serious about my first collection, I knew I was getting close when it was a finalist in a few book contests. Looking back, I see now before this book was really done, I was busy getting better, revising, writing new stories, and refining my vision. With a lot of patience and faithful work, this collection determined itself and I love where we ended up.
CC: “Darling, Won’t You Tell Me True?” is a story about Mr. James Harrington, who begins a correspondence with his mother’s caretaker, Miss Christopher, after his mother dies. Through James’ letters only (we never read a word that Miss Christopher writes), we see a relationship unfold, a budding romance, and the pieces of the entire story are present in his responses as he writes such things he might never say aloud face to face. Your story is fiction, sure, but there’s always truth in fiction. What is it about the intimacy of letters that allows us as humans to open up in ways we could not otherwise?
Beth: I am fascinated by old letters, documents, recipes with notes on them. My old postcard collection—ones with writing on them that I found in antique shops—reveals how the stuff of life can be shared through personal correspondence. Think the crops were good; the baby died; I am back from war and still sweet on you, if you’ll have me.
As a reader, and writer, I find fictional epistolary of all kinds quite engaging. Humans, I suppose, think that letters allow us to craft our messages. Perhaps time and distance allow us to feel less vulnerable since we aren’t face-to-face with how our message is received. And isn’t it interesting that in 2019 we are again writing back and forth—albeit digitally and with immediacy—about the most mundane and intimate matters?
CC: On your website, you write about winning the Loft Mentor Series in fiction and the power of working with a mentor. How has that experience affected your work on short stories and continued to inspire you as an author?
Beth: To begin, the chance to be expected and required to regularly show up to the Loft in Minneapolis—which is a beautiful space—felt good. That time was pivotal for me. It had been a while since I had finished my MFA and landed my teaching position, so I made a conscious decision to really use my program year to renew my commitment to my writing and to my life as a writer. Several of the new stories I wrote challenged me in the best possible ways, because I was ready to be challenged. Those same stories informed my collection as a whole and are now part of my first book. From my year in the program, I have lasting friendships and am now even more committed to helping my own students or mentees discover what it is they are aiming to do on the page.
CC: What are you reading these days?
Beth: The Best American Science Fiction and Fantasy 2017, Edited by Charles Yu, Little Fires Everywhere by Celeste Ng, The Best We Could Do: An Illustrated Memoir by Thi Bui, Parable of the Sower by Octavia Butler.
CC: Being from Minneapolis, I imagine your summers are as short and sweet as those in Wisconsin. What’s your favorite summer activity that not only feeds your need for play for also fuels your creativity?
Beth: The best summer for me comes with time for thinking and dreaming. Time to take in ideas and images makes me happy and helps spark my own imagination. My husband and I like to have coffee out on our patio and walk our spoiled little dog. I love to spend time at the lake place that my extended family shares in Wisconsin. And as a teacher, reading whatever strikes and interests me is one of my greatest summer pleasures.
BETH MAYER’S fiction has appeared in The Threepenny Review, The Sun Magazine, and The Midway Review. She was afiction finalist for The Missouri Review’s Jeffrey E. Smith Editors’ Prize (2016), her work recognized among “Other Distinguished Stories” by Best American Mystery Stories (2010), and her stories anthologized in both American Fiction (New Rivers) and New Stories from the Midwest (Ohio University). Mayer holds an MFA in creative writing from Hamline University. She currently teaches English at Century College in Minnesota, where she lives with her family and impossibly faithful dog.
DON’T FORGET! Enter the giveaway by Tuesday, August 27th, for a chance to win a copy of We Will Tell You Otherwise.
