There’s a new reading series at The Beer Diviner Taproom in Troy, NY on the last Sunday of every month. I am the guest presenter for March. The format involves a reading, discussion, and then the readers leads the audience in a writing exercise or two that is connected to her practice in some way. I’ll be reading a new story and possibly an excerpt from my book-length work in progress. Here is a link to the event page.
This will be a bit of a teaser for the next session of writing workshop I’m leading for The Arts Center of the Capital Region. That’s to start on Monday, April 3 and will run for eight weeks. It focuses on writing process in that we will be in it – a writing process. The works you create can give you short pieces, parts of longer works, and generally get you in the habit of reading and writing prolifically. I absolutely love these classes. UPDATE: This class is sold out.
Reading & Workshop
The Beer Diviner
Sunday, March 26 at 2:30 PM
461 Broadway, Troy, New York 12180
There is so much in this article I felt compelled to share without much comment save to say writers: read this.
“What does an artist do, mostly? She tweaks that which she’s already done. There are those moments when we sit before a blank page, but mostly we’re adjusting that which is already there. The writer revises, the painter touches up, the director edits, the musician overdubs. I write, “Jane came into the room and sat down on the blue couch,” read that, wince, cross out “came into the room” and “down” and “blue” (Why does she have to come into the room? Can someone sit UP on a couch? Why do we care if it’s blue?) and the sentence becomes “Jane sat on the couch – ” and suddenly, it’s better (Hemingwayesque, even!), although … why is it meaningful for Jane to sit on a couch? Do we really need that? And soon we have arrived, simply, at “Jane”, which at least doesn’t suck, and has the virtue of brevity.”
My aim is not for a Hemingway effect, but you get the picture. Here’s to getting your Janes.
A beautifully brief post to provide information on an upcoming reading. This weekend David Kirschenbaum and an amazing crew of writers is putting on the annual BoogFest of readings. I’ll be on the Sunday evening line-up at 6:15 PM reading from my current book in progress, HOW THE END WILL COME. Please come!
SUNDAY FEBRUARY 19, 5:30 P.M.
94 Avenue A at 6th St., NYC
5:30 p.m. T0ska (music)
5:45 p.m. Jay Besemer
6:00 p.m. Denize Lauture
6:15 p.m. Cara Benson
6:30 p.m. Diana Smith (music)
7:00 p.m. Nathaniel Siegel (play)
7:15 p.m. Pierre Joris and Nicole Peyrafitte, The Agony of Ingeborg Bachmann (play)
7:35 p.m. Buck Downs, Filthy Lucre (play)
7:50 p.m. Jeffrey Cyphers Wright
8:00 p.m. Jenny Perlin (film)
8:15 p.m Pavement, Slanted and Enchanted at 25
I run writing workshops at The Arts Center in Troy, NY a couple of times a year. As I always say to participants, this is such an opportunity to engage with each other in a way that foregrounds our humanity via our relationship with language. (Also, it gets me out of the house.) The next workshop starts in April. You can find more info about it and sign up here.
However! This Friday, January 27, participants from the last workshop will be reading at The Arts Center in the theater as part of Troy Night Out. Come support the writers! We’ll be there from 6 to 7:30 PM. Then you can check out the art (exhibit photo pictured below), wander the streets, grab some tasty vittles in downtown.
Here’s the list of readers:
Revision of ms. draft: check. Classes taught: check. Students, clients mentored: check. Short stories, reviews, non-fiction submitted, published, rejected, read, clicked, linked, ignored, liked, “liked”: check. Trying to save the world one word at a time: check.
“In the dark times
Will there also be singing?
Yes, there will also be singing.
About the dark times.”
Famously, this was written by German poet/playwright Bertolt Brecht during the crisis of Stalin’s purges and Hitler’s rise to power in the first half of the last century. Those were dark times, indeed. Is it hyperbolic to invoke this aphorism on the eve of 2017? I think not. Whatever one had hoped for from the 2016 US political season or the Brexit vote or PM Trudeau in Canada who just approved two oil pipelines, there can be no doubt we are facing unprecedented challenges as a society and as a species. The facts are thus: hate crimes are up and so is the global temperature. Clearly, these syndromes are far larger than the individual so it can seem overwhelming to know what to do on a daily basis. How to live. If to write and if so, what.
I’d love to tell you that I have the answer (as if there’s just one). What I have are more questions. Or is it that my assertions are more truly ambivalent? I have often wrestled with the endeavor of literary writing in a time of such urgency. Today is no different except in the scope or intensity of my ambivalence. That is to say, I am all the more convinced that writing is woefully inadequate and that for those of us who do it, we must.
Whether you view art as part of a resistance as Cathy Hong smartly argues, or you believe as Leslie Scalapino did that it can “go along with” rather than explicitly be a political act, our making can indeed have its part to play. While that seems dangerously close to an answer, it isn’t an easy one. I am not at all easy with the notion of art playing a part is what I mean. Even – perhaps especially – in service of _________, art can be an exploitative process. Adorno has been remembered for his declaration that making poetry after Auschwitz was barbaric. A little further exploration uncovers the context of this statement, which he himself later complicated. When taking into account the full essay within which that thought was proffered, we might read his dictum more in line with Audre Lorde’s you can’t dismantle the master’s house using the master’s tools.
We need to be, I think, particularly attuned to the ways in which we make. Dare I say the means of production? I’m not sure business as usual (which is part of Hong’s argument) will do us much good even if the content is, for lack of a better term, revolutionary. However, this is, after all, a time of tremendous transition, and acts of expediency as well as process are to be expected. We can decry Facebook on Facebook. One of these days, perhaps the many cracks we are making with our ball-peen hammers will do the trick.
I myself wrestle with discerning what is unproductive shame that would have me silent from what is right-sized self-criticism of an isolating individualism. To wait until my production is “pure” in motive and enactment will keep me from contributing my two bits. Maybe you, too. So I will continue to advocate for using the work itself to investigate its and my own complicity. To testify. Witness. Observe. Muddle. Meddle. Reflect. Agitate. Meditate. Recollect. Predict. Co-create.
I pivot here to two pieces I’ve written that published this week. One is creative nonfiction called Emerging Markets for the ever amazing Entropy Magazine. In this, I take to the street to meet Other and discover something in the reflection. Well, more than that is considered, but that’s a decent stab at it. I am buoyed by Entropy’s work and find its publishers to be extremely generous in their support of just causes and right writing. The second is Talking about Woman: A Review of La Femme de Gilles by Madeleine Bourdouxhe for 3:AM Magazine. I write about The Second Sex, female pleasure, sexism in politics, and the again timely subject of feminism. Melville House has reissued the work in their Neversink series. Bourdouxhe pulled this book from its original publishers in 1937 for their Nazi sympathies. I worked with ace editor Tristan Foster, and his suggestions made the review better. 3:AM is known for its acumen, smarts, and wit. The pub’s motto? “Whatever it is, we’re against it.”
I wonder what writers in the next century will make of our efforts in these times. Or should I say if.