- Photo stolen from my mother
- Cloth pads!
- Everyone gets an A
- Blackbird project at Emerson College
- A great book for parents & teachers
- Interview on Angela Slatter’s blog
- Clotherings and other silky prose
- Craving Omega (an ode to tahini)
- The allure of old velvet
- Publication day for Shadows And Tall Trees 7!
- Arnold Adoff and Tracy Staggers: Poet And One Woman Band
- Bernadette Murphy
- Candace Kearns Read
- Chris Tebbetts
- Climbing Poetree
- Cyndi Pauwels
- Diane Baumer
- Divyam Chaya Bernstein
- Elaine Gale
- Fred Marchant
- Gayle Brandeis
- Have Son, Will Travel (Holly Hudson)
- Jim Krusoe (Wikipedia)
- Kristin Walrod
- Lynda Barry (The Nearsighted Monkey)
- Marly Youmans
- Mothers of Invention
- Museum of Jurassic Technology
- Page Meets Stage
- Robert Freeman Wexler
- Sanity Creek Sock Monkeys
- Tara Ison
- Taylor Mali
- The Eyeball Kid
- Urban Baby Bonnets
- Vines, Wines, and Lines (Mark Rich)
- Whitney Bell
Tag Archives: fiction
Today is publication day for Shadows And Tall Trees 7 from Undertow Publications! You can support small press publishing and read some weird stuff by shopping here, and you can also find it on (that gargantuan online book seller). Gorgeous cover art and weird words inside, whichever edition you choose.
(My story in the anthology, called “Curb Day,” was inspired in great part by Junk Week in Yellow Springs, which is coming up next week…so it’s timely if you live in my little town.)
Today’s reward for grading student work: Get up and go to the mailbox and see that Shadows And Tall Trees 7 has arrived. Turn to page 205 and see the story you wrote!
Today, I feel like I gave birth to a 13- or 16-year-old (depending on when you consider the moment of literary conception) because I finished my novel. Finished as in finished; it’s packed and ready to go out into the world for the first time…evicted from living merely in my mind, where it had loving and helpful visitors, including a marvelous muse, editor, and doula (my husband, Robert Wexler) but where the novel has lived too long.
My original note for the concept (a tornado girl loses her memory and can see the memories of others) is dated 2001. The first page of the handwritten draft is dated 2004.
So however you count, it’s been a long time.
I’m grateful to the novel’s loving and helpful visitors. I’m exhausted and pleased and a little shocked to be vacated by its presence.
I don’t recall writing this, but apparently I did:
If a person could climb up a ladder to the sky, and look down at the Eight Mile Suspended Carnival, the person would see a sort of living beast, its spine the Tower of Misfortune, its arms the tents, its legs the rides, wheels, gears, its blood the wine and food and excrement that flowed through the bodies of carnies and guests, the air in the beast’s lungs breathed by the humans who worked and wandered inside the cave of the beast’s body. Its head the hotel, its mouth and ass the doorway into and out of its corrugated skin of wonder.
Yellow Springs area readers: If you need some Weird Fiction to temporarily escape this Weird Reality, just take a walk downtown and purchase a copy of Year’s Best Weird Fiction vol. 3 at Dark Star Books! There are 3 copies for sale, so act quickly! (Yes, this post is self-serving because I have a story between those covers, but the other stories are seriously FABULOUS.)
I’m thrilled to announce that my short story “Curb Day” was accepted for Shadows and Tall Trees 7, forthcoming from Undertow Publications. It’s particularly exciting to me because, as I blogged here, in writing this piece, I adapted a process from Lynda Barry‘s process…and it was such fun to dig through compost from last spring’s embryonic essay about junk week and turn it into a story. I’m grateful to Michael Kelly at Undertow for accepting the results. Shadows and Tall Trees 7 will be available in March 2017.
(When I woke up, I knew today felt weird…now I recall why.)
It’s the official release day for Year’s Best Weird Fiction, vol. 3. Thanks again to Michael Kelly and Simon Strantzas for including my story in this shimmering anthology! Check it out here.
When the actual world isn’t weird enough…this anthology might be. Year’s Best Weird Fiction volume 3 is now available (and it’s lovely)! Still, again, eternally grateful that my story (“Rabbit, Cat, Girl”) was chosen for this anthology. For more information, go to Undertow Publications.
After writing the short story I blogged about here, I tried another Lynda Barry-inspired approach. Looking at a problematic paragraph in my almost-finished novel (a reader had noticed some point of view shifts and was pulled out of the story), rather than my usual method (just working on the paragraph by pruning where I could, or cutting it, or moving it) I thought I’d try handwriting it (double-spacing with extra lines like Lynda Barry had us do) to see what would happen. When I felt like speeding up, I slowed down the making of shapes and focused on the curves of the cursive. By doing that, I was able to get outside the oppressive overmind that usually does this level of editing in my work, and realized where the shifts happened in the paragraph, what I needed to omit. The white space between lines was crucial. Turns out the second part of the problematic paragraph is maybe a better fit for my “new” novel (which I have barely started) but at any rate, it was a great procedure! I don’t think I would have noticed, had I not used this approach, with the slow handwriting, and the extra spaces in between lines. (In WRITING THE UNTHINKABLE at Omega, Lynda Barry said that sometimes all you need is some white space.) Then I retyped the newly cleaved passages from the handwriting, and pasted the parts I was keeping back into their respective novel files.
Retyping was important: though many of the sentences had not changed much, it felt like changing the linens. It refreshed the writing.
So cool! In this back and forth between handwriting and typing and handwriting, I’ve met a sort of wall of water where there are two separate worlds, but this process is a portal between them. And it goes both ways! Freaking magical.
(Thank you, Professor Andretti!)