A New Beginning!

It's been a little over a week since my last post, though, if you've noticed, I have been popping up in the comments sections of other blogs--often multiple times--over the last two weeks, time probably better spent working on my novel, but I do have a few days coming up when I will be able to work on that exclusively, provided that my housemates (okay, I'm thinking of one in particular) doesn't invite a bunch of his friends over and make all sorts of noise.  To be fair, he's not that loud.  Unfortunately, he's still the loudest person in the house.

But I digress.  The main thing that has been keeping me from posting, besides my frequent visits to other bloggers' blogs, concerns what happened after I quit my bakery/barista job two weeks ago.  I should point out that I am not making up the contents of this post.  You'll see why I make a point of mentioning this once you've read what I've written below.

The Monday after I quit my job (as I noted in this post), I started U.S. Census training.  Yup, I am one of the "forty-million strong" who applied for and were hired to be enumerators (a fancy way of saying that we count people who didn't send back their census forms).  Knowing that this job was coming up softened the blow of quitting a permanent position, no matter how shitty the pay, but I knew that I needed to find another job within the four to six weeks in which I would be enumerating.

As it turned out, the job found me.

One of my housemates had told me about an ESL school a short bus ride away from where I live.  I had gone there in February to see if they needed anybody, but they didn't.  Still, I had met with the director and had emailed him my resume, after discussing what kind of qualifications I would bring to the job (three years teaching English in Japan).  I had later seen an ad for a combined ESL teacher/ administrative position, and while I wasn't crazy about the administrative part, I sent in my resume a second time, back on March 4th.

Now, the final week of April, as I head into my training session on Wednesday the 28th, I notice that I missed a phone call.  I check my voicemail.

It's the director of the school.  There's an opening.

I don't have training on Thursday, which is convenient for two reasons.  1.) I can schedule an interview for the opening, and 2.) the downtown census office needs to retake my fingerprints.  So, on the same day, I get fingerprinted and interviewed.

The interview goes pretty well, but it's not the greatest interview I've ever done.  The director of the school tells me he'll try and let me know by Friday.  I thank him and send out a thank you email, figuring there's not enough time to send out a card.  He emails me back and asks for contact information for a reference that I gave him in letter form, though I told him during the interview (but maybe he was focused on the paper I was giving him) that her contact information is no longer good (unless the director wants to call the company in Japan).  I give him several options in trying to contact her or the company.

Friday ends with no further word.

Saturday and Sunday end in similar fashion.  Since the school is closed on the weekend, I'm bracing myself for news on Monday, though I keep checking my phone, checking my email account.  When I hear nothing on Monday, I think that maybe I screwed up with the references.  But I know the director is checking on them, so that's a good thing, right?  Maybe I came in second.  But he did contact me, out of hundreds of applications that they get when there's an opening, so there's hope, right?

I get a call Tuesday morning.









I got the job.






As of right now, I am only teaching one class that lasts roughly two hours (two fifty-minute sessions, separated by a ten-minute break).  The term ends on May 21st.  On May 24th, I am scheduled to test some of the students.  Based on their scores, they will be placed into classes, and teachers will be called and told their schedules, which will not fluctuate for the entire four-week term (so if, say, an entire class quits, the teacher still gets paid for that class).

So, from May 25th on, things will start getting very busy, as I am required to work at least twenty-hours for the census each week, plus four to six classes for the ESL position.  And did I mention that SIFF starts on May 20th, for which I will be volunteering?

The census could last anywhere from four to six weeks.  Right now, it's looking like it'll take six weeks, which will bring me to the middle of June (SIFF ends on June 13th, which will be six weeks and a day from when I started enumerating--they don't count training as part of the six weeks, though I did get paid for it).  So, for the three weeks that SIFF is running, I will have very little free time, unless the census takes less than six weeks to complete.  Luckily, for my ESL job, one Monday a term, the students go on a field trip, so I will get a day off (even if I have to enumerate at night) this upcoming Monday, as well as the day after SIFF (and hopefully, my enumerating) ends.  Unless I want to go on the field trip, that is.  But I think I'll take my breaks when I can.

Little free time also means not much time to post blog entries, read blog posts, work on my novel, or read.  As I said, I will have free time up until May 25th, when the first day of classes for the new term starts, but then, for the next three weeks, I will be super busy.  I still should have some free time later at night for a quick post here and there, and I should have mornings free on weekends, so I won't completely disappear from view.  But if you don't hear from me for a while, you'll know why.

I do find it interesting, though, that all of these good things started happening after I quit my job.  Guess it was a good decision, after all. :-)

A New Beginning?

No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.
-Eleanor Roosevelt

I kept repeating that quote after I came home tonight from work.  No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.  No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.  No one can make you feel inferior....no one....

I quit my job today.  Usually, when one leaves a job, it is customary to give the company two weeks notice (and in Japan, a whole month).  I have followed this courtesy at all of my jobs...those that allowed me to stay on long enough to do so, that is.

All but this one.

I had taken next week off for U.S. Census training, and since the schedules are done one week previous, I figured now was the best time to quit, since they had already scheduled me out for next week.  I also thought that I had read in the company handbook that during the first ninety days, an employee could quit at any time and for any reason, a power usually reserved for the employer in regards to the employee.  So I quit, effective today.  Unfortunately, I was told that I read that part wrong, and that the penalty is that this company may never hire me back.

I had two main reasons for quitting immediately.  One was that I didn't want to announce my departure, and then have to put up with two weeks of people asking why, of looking at the disappointment in people's faces, of fumbling for an answer that makes my decision clear without placing blame for my departure on any one person.  In other words, I wanted to leave quietly, without people knowing that I was leaving until right before I was gone.  Well, I bungled that, as this immediate departure will probably cause more problems than giving my two week notice would have.  Oh well.  It can't be undone.

The second reason was that the job sucked.  Physically, mentally, emotionally, I might have been able to squeeze out another week (I had next week off, so I only needed one more), but it was a struggle just to make it to the weekend.  I stayed an hour over my scheduled end time every night this week, usually for an hour or so (last night, I only stayed 30 minutes over).  Tonight was the only night that I put everything out on the floor (I worked in a bakery department), and I stayed 1 hour 15 minutes over!

Then there was the training.  Originally, I was trained to be a barista.  Then the construction of the coffee shop was delayed.  I was moved over to the bakery without having been certified for the barista position.  I was officially trained a total of sixteen hours in the bakery (they kept saying I was a trainee, but every night that I worked at the bakery, except one, I was alone for all but an hour or half hour at the beginning of my shift, and the one in which I was only alone for the last hour was worse, because the person I worked with baked so much that I couldn't put all of it out on the shelves in the hour that remained).  In fact, though I was trained for the morning shift, the first time I was put in the bakery by myself was for a night shift, and there was no overlap with the person who worked the earlier shift.

Finally, the job itself just wasn't for me.  I should have said that when questioned by the manager on duty as to why I wanted to leave immediately (so much for leaving unnoticed, huh?).  I am not a fast worker, except as a cashier.  I prefer jobs that aren't so hectic.  This job was more or less a shot in the dark, and it got me to the point where I could take the census job, without a gap in pay, but it wasn't a job that one would associate with me.  For people who can do that kind of job, good for them.  They probably had proper training.

Failure is the opportunity to begin again more intelligently.
-Henry Ford

This quote is on my desk, though I had to search the Internet to see who said it.  I've been looking at this quote throughout most of the day.  If quitting is a type of failure, then indeed, it is giving me an opportunity to begin again.

Did I make the right decision?  I don't know.  I should be able to find something within the four weeks that I am working the census job, and hopefully something that will actually cover my expenses, rather than just put a dent in them, as my recent job did ($8.65 an hour).  The only reason to hang onto that job for a little longer was its benefits, but why join a union, with union dues, if I'm only going to work at there for a few months at most?

Years from now, I'm hoping that I'll look back at this decision as similar to Jack London's decision to continue writing stories over working a steady job at the post office, and not as a step that leads to my having to leave Seattle due to lack of funds and lack of work (though that's being a bit dramatic).  Due to my quick exit, I know that the company I worked for won't hire me again.  At least my checks are still being sent to my barista training store as opposed to the one in which I worked at the bakery, and at least I shop at a different grocery store than the one that I worked at.  But I shouldn't be this depressed less than two days before my birthday.  I should remember the quote by Eleanor Roosevelt, and realize that today I fulfilled one of my favorite quotes:

Always do what you are afraid to do.   -Ralph Waldo Emerson

Maybe this is a turning point in my fortunes.  As Aaron Eckhart said in The Dark Knight, "The night is darkest just before the dawn."

Here's to the dawn.




Author's Note: This post was written on Friday night and posted just after midnight on Saturday.  So when I write "today," I'm writing about Friday.

Writers' Meat

Last night marks the first time that I shared any part of my novel with other human beings.  My parents have not seen any part of it.  My friends have not seen any part of it.  My reading of the first two pages of my novel was a world premier event.

It took place at a Writer's Meetup that I belong to, the first meetup for this group I have been able to attend (and that wasn't canceled).  Seven other people shared parts of their stories that night.  All are incredible writers.  I felt my piece did not measure up to their brilliance.  And yet mine was discussed by the others as much as any of the other pieces were.  My child did not falter in his first introduction to the world.  I must not falter in finishing this novel.

The host of this event asked me, since I told them I have been working on it for eight years writing and many more years planning, if I ever worried that I wouldn't finish it.  The answer is "yes."  My other fear is that I thrust it out into the world before it's ready, just to get it out there.  But, at some point past the due date, birth must be induced.  This year the inducing process begins.

The meetup followed a French theme: we ate blood sausage and drank red wine, sampled Israeli cous-cous and indulged in some sort of massive pie with plums in it.  There was also absinthe to try (the legal stuff, not the stuff that'll make you cut off your ear and mail it to a prostitute).  The legal stuff, however, is still quite potent: one of the bottles I picked up was 62% alcohol.  I meant to try some, but the process of drinking it was so complicated that I couldn't be bothered.  It involves gizmos and sugar and cold water and measuring, which should be followed for the full effect, but which can be tiresome to set up.  Also, who knows how powerfully it would affect me.  I mean, 62%!  I often top out at two beers.

Blood sausage is meant to be eaten with horse radish, which I didn't know the first time I tried it.  I ate my second sausage with horse radish, however, and it made it that much better.  Here's what my plate looked like, sans cous-cous, horse radish, and the awesome pie:

I felt energized after last night's meetup, and still do.  I needed that energy, too, as it has been sagging as of late.  Job hunting with a crappy Internet connection will do that to you.  Of course, the view out the host's front window, which encompasses Lake Washington and several mountains (the Cascades?), didn't hurt.  Now I wish I had taken a photo of that view, rather than of this nasty-looking (but rather tasty) blood sausage.

Is this the beginning of the story proper?  Something tells me this is going to be quite a year.

Correction:  Actual absinthe has been legal in the U.S. since 2007 (thanks, desk calendar!), so this was the stuff that, if drunk in sufficient quantities, could cause you to cut off your ear and mail it to a prostitute.

Effortful Writing

Sometimes I try too hard when I write.  I read other comments on blogs and try to be as witty as them, or as poignant, or as observant, and end up sounding, instead, like I'm full of it.  The arts are strange in that, if you can see the effort involved in a completed piece, whether it be a painting, or a symphony, or a novel, it loses its desired effect.  The last movement of Mozart's Symphony No. 41 sounds effortless, but how difficult it would be for someone not of Mozart's stature to have written that!  Same goes for the complicated harmonies and mixture of notes in Tristan und Isolde, but when played together, they sound as if they all belong.  The familiar mixed with the new; inevitability mixed with surprise.  The greatest works know how to mix these elements together into a complete and awesome whole.  For the rest, you can see the patches, but not the quilt.

Now, of course, much effort goes into sounding effortless, but if you force the words when writing, they refuse to do your bidding.  The words, the sentences, must flow naturally from the pen, from the keyboard.  If they do not, they sound like a child banging keys on a piano, instead of Beethoven's Appassionata Sonata.

I've also noticed another trend that worries me: I always respond to other people's life stories with stories of my own.  It's how I relate to others, and it's not unusual, but it makes me sound as if I am wresting away attention from them and placing it on me, rather than emphasizing their unique experiences.  I read those comments of mine and wince.  And, somehow, their experiences always seem to relate to some experience I had in Japan (more in conversations than in writing, but it does happen in writing, as well).  Well, it was my last great adventure, it continues to have a powerful impact on my life, and it didn't happen that long ago.  Still, I feel sometimes as if I alienate people when I compare their everyday existence to something that happened to me on the other side of the world--as if I can't relate their day-to-day experiences to my own.

Writing is transparent; it often reveals things that even the author wants to stay hidden.  Having read my London diary entries recently (in their entirety), I noticed how often I wrote down that I tried to get a picture with other people.  How needy I sound in those entries!  Am I needy still?  Is that what continues to plague me in my comments--a need for everyone to notice me, to appreciate me, to want to be seen with me?  I don't know.

Flannery O'Connor once wrote (or said), "I write to discover what I know."  I would add that I also write to discover who I am.  In fact, this blog is nothing more or less than my thinking aloud.  Sometimes my thoughts are complete, and can be read with clarity.  Other times they are half-formed, and fumble around in the dark, looking for the light.  Whether in embryonic form or in mature form, however, my thoughts are always searching, searching, for what lies beyond my comprehension, what lies within, and how to make everything I come across look as effortless as breathing.

Musings of the Witching Hour

It's after midnight in Seattle.  Rainy but warm the past few days.  Still need a winter coat at night, but sometimes can get by with less during the day.  And here I sit, on a rare occasion when I have good connectivity with my WiFi, wondering what my place in the world is.

Recently, I've been reading The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath, in addition to a collection of short stories by Haruki Murakami entitled Blind Willow, Sleeping Woman.  I remember the title story came out when I was in Japan.  I often feel that part of me is still over there, and can't find its way back, while the other part of me is stuck here, and can't find its way back to Japan.  As for the journals, they comfort me in the knowledge that such a talented writer had the same doubts that I have, and wondered some of the same things that I wonder.  Less comforting is the knowledge that Plath killed herself at the same age I am now, and did far more before that age--in terms of writing and publishing--than I have done.

I also finished a book on reflexology, which was another curiosity of mine while over in Japan.  I do miss those foot massages.  They are offered here in Seattle, but I don't have the paycheck in Seattle that I had in Japan.  In fact, at the moment, I have no paycheck.  I'm hoping that'll change soon.

What else can I muse about?  Oh right, my place in the world.  I am reminded of a quote I read by George Bernard Shaw.  If I remember correctly, it went like this: "Reasonable men conform to the world.  Unreasonable men have the world conform to them.  Therefore it is unreasonable men who change the world."  Unfortunately, I can't say that I am that unreasonable.  Maybe I will surprise myself in my writing.  Maybe I will become unreasonable there.

The most difficult fact about the future is that it's not the present.  I know what happens in the present.  I don't know what happens in the future.  All plans can go for nought, or something unexpected and better might come along.  Or I may meet someone who makes all of my future dreams meaningless without her.  Or I meet nobody like that, and trudge ahead on my lonely way.  Hemingway wrote, "Man can be destroyed, but not defeated."  I think I understand what he meant when he wrote those words.  I often feel crushed, broken, pounded into the dirt, yet I get up again, though my body be in fragments, and continue my quest, no matter how foolish it may be.  Perhaps all artists must be a little bit like Don Quixote, and dream things which are not there out of objects which are.  "To dream the impossible dream/ To fight the unbeatable foe...."  That foe is life.  That foe is death.  We never survive the one; we never escape the other.  Even Ozymandias crumbles and fades into memory, where he can no longer do any harm to the living.

One of my friends is trying to get me a government job as a technical writer/proposal writer/editor.  She says it's a tremendous opportunity.  I can't help thinking that, when the government of the U.S. is but a distant memory, when this administration has been consigned to ancient history books, my novels, poems, plays, short stories, essays, and the like will live on, much more important, and much more lasting, than any work done for any government.  Good for money, yes, but creative writing is the more tremendous opportunity, the more important task.

My Updated Computer/Seattle Status

Before I get to the best movies of the decade (which I hope to post this weekend), I thought I should let everyone know what's going on in regards to my computer, this blog, and my life in Seattle.

First off, recently my parents sent my computer to me from Connecticut, as well as my printer.  That's the good news.  The bad news is that, while one of my housemates now has Internet access, he doesn't want to share his connection with anyone else, needing all of the bandwidth for himself.  Of course, I need very little, since I download almost nothing (the occasional Steam update notwithstanding).  You would think that my usage would barely cut into his speed, but whatever.  I should be getting a WiFi adapter for my computer soon, which I can use to search for a signal.  In the meantime, I'll be using library computers for Internet access.  Luckily, I found a different library near where I live with up-to-date Internet browsers (not so the library I was going to before), so now I can post AND leave comments on my blog.  Eventually, though, I hope to go in with several other people in my house to split the cost of Internet, so that I can post from home.  Unfortunately, that means I'll need to buy a router, but I believe there is a mail-in rebate that should cover most or all of its cost.

That brings me to my next point: I have no money coming in right now.  My seasonal job has ended, so, once again, I must search for a job out here in Seattle.  It is, in fact, what I should be doing right now, instead of posting this blog.  I also want to get back into teaching English to foreign students (and tutoring American students that need the help).  For that purpose, I have posted two or three fliers on campus offering my services for one-on-one lessons, and one of my housemates (who also teaches students, though usually in Spanish) has suggested posting in coffee shops, as well.  In addition, I ordered (and received) fifty business cards, so now I can pass them out not only to prospective students, but also to people in my meetup groups, hoping that one of them knows someone who is looking for someone like me to work for them.  I have also given a bunch of the cards to one of my housemates, who is Korean, and might know people looking for private English lessons.

Finally, during my down time I've been watching a lot of old movies and working on a short story--actually, more than one.  Once I finish the rough draft of the one that I'm currently working on, I hope to return to my novel (now that I have my printer, and bought some paper, editing it becomes possible).  The way I see it, I need to simultaneously job hunt and write, and in both cases, I need to put myself out there more and become more well known.  In politics, it's called "building the base."  In the arts, it's called "survival."

So, this coming weekend (the 23rd and 24th), I hope to post my best movies of the decade list on this blog, after which, my posts will have less to do with movies, and more to do with the thoughts inside of my head, my struggles within Seattle, and the people I hope to meet to make my literary dreams--and my permanent residency in Seattle--possible.

I'm Back! (Sort Of)

So, here's the deal: my computer is back in Connecticut.  When I was staying with my brothers' friends, they let me use their computer.  The place I moved to doesn't have Internet (though it may soon).  It also doesn't have a computer.  But, I am able to use the Internet at the library (which is where I am now).  Yet another reason to love libraries. :-)  Since the computers are often taken, however, this greatly limits how much time I can spend on them to check email, write this blog, etc., and in the grand scheme of things, checking my email (and my bills) is more important that reading blogs or writing posts.  My brother and I are working on a solution to this problem, so hopefully we can come to one before the New Year.  I'll let you all know what develops.

Until then, I will be sporadically adding posts and commenting on other people's blogs, though the posts will be less frequent and the comments will be fewer (I may, in fact, not comment much at all).  On the bright side, not being on the Internet all the time allows me to read and write more often.  On the negative side, my novel sits in wait on my flash drive until I can get to a computer to work on it some more (I've already gone through it on paper), which means that most of my writing will be focused on short stories for the short term.

Anyway, I hope to have these issues resolved soon, as I will also need the Internet to job search.  Until next time!

A Tale of Two Theaters

After my orientation on Tuesday for my seasonal job, and my long and boring training on Wednesday, I got to enter my world again on Thursday and Friday--the world of theater, of movies, of art.

Thursday I joined the SRO (Seattle Repertory Organization) annual meeting.  They are a volunteer organization that helps out at the Seattle Repertory Theater.  Mostly composed of older members of society (the youngest members of the SRO are about double my age), they were a fun group to spend a morning with, and I was introduced around by one of its members, who works (volunteers?) in the HR department.  After the meeting, I also got to meet Fran Kao (pronounced "Gao"), the Public Programs Manager, who had mentioned this meeting to me on the phone.  So now we have faces to go with our voices.

At the meeting, I got to sit with some "fellow Italians" (funny how they can pick me out in a crowd).  Most of the agenda covered business as usual, including an introduction of guests brought to the meeting (though I brought myself, I was introduced by the same woman who had personally introduced me to others in the group).  What was different about the meeting was, at times, the humor projected into it.  Nothing so represented this humor as when the Operations Manager, Johnny Mac (John R. McNamara), came into the meeting speaking with a British accent and dressed like someone from Shakespeare's time.  Many references to his codpiece and what was underneath it, as he passed around his "satchel" for donations, which would go to the interns.  These people were whipping out tens and twenties, whereas if I had given money, it would have been a couple ones.  As I didn't know what it was for (until afterwards), and as I hadn't brought much money with me, I did not contribute.  This may also be because I am the most frugal person on the planet, though I always give money to the Salvation Army.

The only other noteworthy thing about the meeting was an announcement that one member of the theater staff (Daniel Sullivan, perhaps, since he's the artistic consultant?) was hoping to implement a program that would allow the theater to work closely with up and coming playwrights.  Oh really?  I'll have to keep my eyes open and my ear close to the ground on that one.

Anyway, once the meeting was adjourned, there was a little break before three actors from the show "Opus" joined us to talk about the play.  They were introduced by one of the interns, who had worked with them on this play, before introducing themselves.  When one of them said he was originally from Connecticut, the ladies to either side of me nudged me with their elbows.

Together, these two actors (and one actress) were a riot.  Very lively, with some very funny stories.  Afterwards, two of them sat amongst us (the third one left), but unfortunately, not at my table.  If I hadn't gone to the bathroom right after they were done, I would've had a chance to introduce myself while they were still sitting at the front of the room.  Oh well.

After waiting a long time, I got to talk to Fran Kao after the meeting was over (this was our first face-to-face, mentioned earlier).  I mainly wanted to ask her about another program I had heard about, called the crew, who had pre- and post-show parties, seeing the play in between.  She told me that the crew was mainly for subscribers, though I could buy individual tickets for each event, too, and directed me to the box office.  The woman there was very helpful and told me what my best options were (too bad I wasn't under 25--monster discounts!).  After thinking it over and checking the website, I decided not to join the crew or get a subscription until I have a more regular job, as I imagine that most of the crew events are on Friday and Saturday nights, when I might be working.  Still, it depends on my hours after Christmas--whether I get hired for regular store hours, or I find a job elsewhere.  Might be best to get in with the fringe theaters, where I can volunteer on stage painting and such, instead of front office monetary issues (though I wouldn't mind working the gift shop).

On Friday, I went to the second theater in this title--a movie theater.  Called the Egyptian Theater, it originally was a Masonic Temple.  Now it shows movies on a large screen in a spacious auditorium (I felt like I was outside--that's how high the ceilings are).  Ever better, the SIFF (Seattle International Film Festival) is shown there (not to be confused with the year-round SIFF cinema).  So, now I can see art films, something I could not easily see at movie theaters near my home in Connecticut (well, I could've seen them in Hartford, but I never felt good about driving through Hartford at night).

Friday night, I saw An Education, which was a very good film, though I wondered, as I left the theater, what the message of the movie was supposed to be.  Maybe there wasn't one.  Maybe it was just a case of the heroine having lived through an experience and grown as a result.  Not that it mattered much, as the acting by Carey Mulligan and Alfred Molina (as her father) were great.  In fact, the acting all around was good, but those two stood out.  You can read a review here.

What impressed me the most, though (besides the beauty of the theater--I wish there were pictures online of its interior!) was the audience reaction.  I saw a matinee, so the crowd was small.  Even so, I noticed that when the previews began, some people were whispering, but I could hardly hear them.  Yes, they were actually whispering so as not to be heard by their neighbors.  Then, when the film began, a smattering of laughter at appropriate moments, but no talking.  Even more impressive, when the film ended and the credits began to role, people didn't pop out of their seats and head for the exits.  They actually sat for a while and watched, and while not everyone stayed until the end, I didn't feel that there was a mad dash to leave the theater.  And, since this movie attracted the young, the old, and those in between, having such a respectful audience bodes well for my future cinematic adventures in this city.

After the movie, as I took the bus home, I saw, for the first time, Seattle lit up at night, and as the bus passed downtown, I observed, with childlike joy, the trees adorned with lights for the upcoming Christmas season.

Some Changes to My Blog

My poetry book

Please check out the side bar to see some of the extra features that I have added to this website, including a search option, an easier way to subscribe to my blog, and links to blogs to which I have currently subscribed.  Also, a poetry annual being released by Wild Leaf Press will include three of my poems.  The book will be available through their website starting October 15th.

Finally, if you still wish to purchase Digging Up the Past: Poetry from High School (1994-97), you can now do so directly (see sidebar, near the bottom).  Please do not send any money to my P.O. Box (previously linked), as it will soon expire.  You may want to act soon, however, as I don't plan on printing any more copies once my current batch runs out, and I have less than twenty copies left to sell.  Of course, if I get an explosion of people hitting the "to buy" button, I may reconsider. :-)

Roger and Me (no, not the movie)

Maybe I should have written this blog entry yesterday, but reflecting for one day on the euphoria of the moment has given me more perspective on the matter, perspective that I lacked yesterday. After all, didn't Wordsworth describe poetry as "emotion recollected in tranquility" in his Preface to Lyrical Ballads (see paragraph 26)? I think the same can be said for other forms of literature, of art, as well.

Who knew that putting my novel aside for a week (as mentioned in my previous entry) would fire up my creative juices on my blog? Yet that was but one catalyst. The other was praise. Praise from none other than Roger Ebert.

I have followed Ebert's blog the longest of any of the blogs I read on a regular basis, though I've only commented on it a handful of times. I haven't commented more because I either have had nothing to say, or because other people's comments say all I have wanted to say, and then some. Since Ebert's comment about my blog, however, I've realized two things:

1.) I feel more like I'm part of an online community now. His blog on blogs (where he replies to my comment, nineteen down from the top, which I've posted under my real name) made me not only notice the names of people who scatter comments throughout his blogs, but feel CONNECTED to them, since they are indulging in their passions in a way similar to my own (and, of course, now I can check out and comment on their blogs, and vice versa). I have linked to two of the blogs he mentions since yesterday, one by a thirteen-year-old who writes better film reviews than some professional reviewers I've read (not Ebert, of course ;-)), and a Canadian woman who writes such gorgeous, giving prose that it makes my writing look like feeble attempts by a chimpanzee. Actually, that's going a bit too far, but she's very good.

2.) I feel like my blog matters. Of course, my friends have left comments from time to time, which also validate this blog, as have other people whom I don't know, but to have a Pulitzer-Prize winning critic tell me that, if only I had commented on one of the last few blogs he had posted, he would have included my blog IN HIS BLOG, well, that's a whole new level of validation. Wonderful, surreal, and just plain awesome. Suffice it to say, from now on, I will be commenting on his blog (and others) more often.

Here are the links to the two blogs I mentioned:

The Flick Pick Monster

Etheriel~Musings

And, of course:

Roger Ebert's Journal

Update on the Novel 3

Before I forget, I want to update all of you on my novel.

My novel is split into two parts. Last week, I printed out the final pages of Part Two, meaning that I have completed all rudimentary work on my second/third draft (click here to see why there's confusion on which draft it is I'm working on). I have set it aside for the week, but hope to go back to it next week, when I shall be reading through all of Part Two several times. The first time, I will underline parts that may need revision. The second time, I will make revisions as I read. Then, I will read all of Part Two again, with my revisions. After that, I shall incorporate those revisions into my hard drive copy, making further changes as I see fit. Once that is done, I will print out the entire novel....and set it aside for several months, during which time I hope to write a series of short stories, poems, and various other short works.

I do not know how many revisions my novel will end up going through before it's completed, but I do know that these revisions will not be the last ones I make. I also know that, with every round of revisions, I get closer and closer to finishing the novel. When that happens, when the novel has reached a form that I feel is complete, I shall set it aside once more, come back to it, and see if I feel the same. If I do, then I shall start sharing parts of it with my readers online, and the whole of it with several people I know. Based on my filtering of my acquaintances' feedback, the final round of revisions shall begin. Once those revisions have been incorporated into the book, the search begins for an agent. And soon after, hopefully, my dreams of literary grandeur start to become reality.

And the Winner Is....

I have decided to submit "Akiba Maid" in the Long River Run poetry journal. I only got two responses to my possible entries, one of which hated "Akiba Maid" (made the reader want to take a shower), one of which really liked it. Since, as a writer, my job is to exert a powerful reaction from my readers, whether it be negative or positive, I felt I had to go with this poem for inclusion in the journal. Besides, "Time is a Jealous Mistress" is a better poem for poetry contests. Not to say that "Akiba Maid" won't win any contests, but "Time is a Jealous Mistress" appeals more to the heartstrings than "Akiba Maid" does.

Anyway, I have revised the poem a little, and while it hasn't changed the meaning significantly, I think it has clarified the relationship between the patrons and the maids:

Akiba Maid

She walks through the streets

With its shouting hawkers,

Video game music,

And otaku stalkers.

She arrives for work

Dressed in white lace,

Frilly undergarments,

Black shoes, a cute face,

To cheer up customers

After a long day

Of work, or whatever

It is that they play.

Sometimes she performs,

Sometimes she serves drinks,

Sometimes she just talks

To faces turned pink,

Flushed with excitement

Interacting with a girl

Who's not on a screen,

In a book, or magazine.

Yet created by men

Out of 2-D girls,

These women exist

In a real fantasy world.

The original poem, as well as "Time is a Jealous Mistress," can be found in my previous blog, which should appear below this one.

A Bit of a Dilemma

I'm having trouble deciding on a poem to submit to Long River Run, a members-only journal of the Connecticut Poetry Society. Here's my first choice:

Akiba Maid

She walks through the streets

With its shouting hawkers,

Video game music,

And otaku stalkers.

She arrives for work

Dressed in white lace,

Frilly undergarments,

Black shoes, and a face

That cheers up customers

After long days

Of work, or whatever

It is that they play.

Sometimes she performs,

Sometimes she serves drinks,

Sometimes she just talks

To faces turned pink,

Flushed with excitement

At talking to a girl

Who's not on a screen,

In a book, or magazine,

Yet created by men

Out of similar girls.

These women exist

In a real fantasy world.

I can still edit this poem more, if need be, though that might make a case for sending in an earlier, more "finished" poem, instead. Recently, one of my high school classmates lost his mother to cancer, which made me think about submitting this poem, instead:

Time is a Jealous Mistress

Time is a jealous mistress

That always gets its way,

Whether it be tomorrow,

Or whether it be today.

It doesn't give without receiving,

And it receives far more than it gives,

Yet as it passes, wounds heal,

And Life continues to live.

In typing that to the computer, I actually found two verb tense mistakes, which I have corrected, and which, in fact, give the poem more punch. Since anything I send in will be accepted, however, should I be sending in my best poetry, or should I be sending in poetry that I may not be able to get published elsewhere (not that I've had any luck so far)?

My third option is to submit a poem that would be included in my college poetry collection, so as to create interest in the project when it's finished. In that case, I have a plethora of poems to choose from. My only limit is length (40 lines or less) and subject matter (can't be "offensive," though I'm not sure if that means it can't be racist or sexist, or it can't be "objectionable"--hopefully the former, but being that most of the Connecticut Poetry Society members are over forty and female, I probably won't be sending in any of my sexually-charged poetry, anyway, as innocuous as it is).

So really, I have three problems: 1.) Which of my poems are "finished" enough to be submitted? 2.) Should I submit a poem that would have less of a chance of winning a contest, or should I submit a poem of high quality? 3.) Should I use this opportunity to promote a collection that hasn't been published yet by submitting a poem that can only include a promotional plug if it's been included in a collection that's already been published?

All submissions are being accepted in electronic form, and while I have until the end of the month to send out my submission, I'd like to do so by Friday, if possible. So, what do all of you out in the blog-o-sphere think?

Distractions

The last two weeks have been filled with distractions for my writing and me. Some have been caused by circumstances beyond my control. Some have been caused by my own doings.

The former consisted of my dear nieces, who--up until last night--were staying at my parents' home, along with my sister, her husband, and their dog. The girls liked playing with some of the objects on my desk, but since they are boisterous girls (they are children, after all), any writing I did had to be done before they got home from preschool. Before my sister and brother-in-law went back to work (they work in school systems), I could do little work while they were home. Besides the girls, I also was helping my brother-in-law move items from our house to his new one almost every day after school. Friday I was given a reprieve, but I decided to spend it relaxing, since yesterday was THE BIG MOVE to their new house.

The latter consisted of my not writing during those aforementioned hours, when the house was quiet and nobody was home. I also went out a couple of times during the week, in order to get a break from the high energy level within this house, which has not been seen since my siblings and I were young children.

Despite both kinds of distractions, I did work much of Wednesday on my novel, though the time spent on it that day made up for sporadic work done on it throughout the week. I find that the closer one gets to the end of a draft, the harder it is to write, because now all of the loose ends must be tied up, and the whole must be brought to a satisfactory conclusion. Readers will not forgive a writer for a bad ending, even if the rest of the book is well-written. The hard part is surrendering myself to the ending that the book wants.

I decided when writing the current version of the story that I didn't want a conventional ending, and I still don't. I can't, however, force the ending to be unconventional, just because I wish it. I have certain parameters in which I can work, but the parameters seem to exist between awesome and unbelievable versus believable and boring.

At least now that I have time to write, unrestricted by bedtimes, play times, and such, I should be able to finish off this draft in two weeks or less. Then, I must print it out, revise it again, put the revisions on the computer, and revise it while putting in revisions. After that, I can print out the entire work, put it aside, and work on some short stories.

Update on the Novel 2

Since I wrote so much for my mid-week blog, today I thought I'd write a quick update on my novel.

As I approach the climax, work has been slow, especially since I still haven't figured out how to write in a plausible ending, based on the personalities and behaviors of my characters, nor what that ending should be. The past few days, I have written two or three pages worth of material, only to have to delete most of that progress by the time my writing session is over, leaving me with a few paragraphs, at most, by bedtime. I believe Oscar Wilde said it best when he described writing in this manner:

"I was working on the proof of one of my poems all the morning, and took out a comma. In the afternoon I put it back again."

The writing process is slow and can occur in fits and starts. One's progress in the morning can be negated by one's progress at night. Besides these observations, this quote points out how meticulous one has to be when revising. But one also needs a forum in which to try out new things and not have to worry about tidying up the wording or the grammar to perfection--a place where one is allowed to fail easily is also a place that allows one to succeed easily.

This blog isn't such a place, since I am writing partly for me and partly for my audience. Since my goal here is to communicate to my readers--which lies at the core of all literature--I can't write sloppy grammatical sentences or let spelling errors slip by, whereas when I write in my diary, only I have to be able to read and understand what I write. Even there, if I write terrible sentences or spell words strangely, then I will lose the meaning of what I wrote over time, as I rely more and more on the words to fill in the gaps of my memory, rather than the other way around. Still, this blog is a place where I can iron out rough edges, without having to make them smooth as glass.

As for my novel, I hope to finish my current revision in two months, if not sooner. I have gotten to the point where I'm ready to move on to short stories and poetry, instead of having this novel hog all of my writing time during the week.

Until next time.

Update on the Novel

It feels like I've been working on my first novel forever, and maybe I have.

I first came up with the idea for it in sixth grade (1990) after writing a short story for class and feeling that I could expand it into a novel. I outlined it during my high school years, which is when I got most of my book ideas and began writing them down. I mention it in my London diary entries (2000), as I had a dream that influenced the direction the novel would take. I'm not sure, however, if this and other ideas really took, as the novel was completely rewritten while I was in Japan (and during the first few months after I returned home) without referencing them.

I started writing the first draft of the novel in 2002 or 2003. I had my dad print it out about a year or so before I went to Japan, though I stopped editing it several months before I left, if not earlier, unhappy with some forced episodes in the novel that, if extracted, would leave me with little story, but, if included, would not flow naturally from the story. The rewritten first draft took a little over a year to write, mainly because I only had an hour a night to work on it in Japan, if that long. I wrote most of part one over there, and the rest of the novel (including all of part two) after returning home.

I did take several months off between finishing the first/second draft (the one I started in Japan) and starting the second/third draft, which is when I began putting it on the computer. I have finished the second/third draft of part one of the novel, but have hit a snag in writing part two. I found two episodes which I need (and which the story needs) sounding forced upon the characters, so I have to figure out a way for things to happen in the story naturally, but in a way that allows for these two key episodes to take place. Right now, if everyone acts like they're supposed to, and I don't create events that force their hand, there will be no climax.

I feel that soon, I will again be putting off the novel for a time, so that I may return to it later with fresh eyes. I hope to finish the second/third draft, at least, before I do that, which is why right now, I am outlining the novel as is, up to the point that sounds forced. I also plan on making a timeline (thanks, Wesleyan Writers Conference). I might put the climax on the timeline as well and figure out how to build to it from what I have. After all, the only rule in writing that I follow is to do whatever works. By outlining the entire novel up until that point, I should be able to see where the novel is going, which will also help me in constructing my climax. Most of it is good; I just have to figure out how to get the main character to be there without having him act against his character, nor the other characters in the novel acting against theirs. Trust me, it's more difficult than it sounds.

So, I hope that I can take a break from the novel within a month or two. I have a short story idea that I'd like to work on, and I can use the break time to almost exclusively look for a job and a place to live. One of my friends wants me to live near her in the D.C. area, but unless someone's willing to put me up for a few months rent-free (I'd pay for food and utilities), I'll have to find a job first. Then again, finding a job in an area far from where one lives is more difficult than finding one near where one lives, especially concerning interviews, where transportation becomes an issue. We really need a good public transportation system in this country. Otherwise, I'm moving back to Japan.

Wesleyan Writers Conference One-Day Event, Part Two

For those of you who haven't read the first part of this entry, click here.

Last time, I wrote about the classes I attended at the Wesleyan Writers Conference One-Day Event. In this blog, I'll continue with the two panels I attended, dinner, and the Padraic Colum Evening, which ended the one-day session.

World Music Hall

We had a half-hour break between the poetry class and our next event, held at World Music Hall. That event was a panel entitled "Blogs and Digital Media." The three people on the panel were Ron Hogan, Kit Reed, and Alexander Chee--who had taught the novel-writing class in the morning. The topic was "Authorial Presence Online," though the part that most interested me concerned how to gain readers. As of this writing, I have only three people who have linked to my blog, and while I know of at least one other person who has bookmarked the page, that's not a large total. Then again, I only started this blog a month or so ago, so I hope that by following their advice (send out a mass email--check; put links on facebook every time you write a new entry--check), I'll eventually get more followers.

They also talked a little bit about their blogs (except for Kit, who doesn't have any--though she used to be part of one of the early web communities, and maybe still is) and gave examples of good blogs to check out. Though, as Alex pointed out, you shouldn't read other blogs when creating your own blog. I think he meant that you shouldn't read other blogs looking for ideas on what to do for your blog. Basically, blogs should show the personality of the author and be about something the author is passionate about. That's why I hope to include more writing pieces in this blog, so that I'm not discussing the writing process all the time. Once I start publishing poems in magazines and start looking for an agent, I should also have more to write about. But, since this is an interactive format, feel free to comment on what's in this blog and what you feel should be in this blog. I might tell you to go to hell, or I might tell you that your idea is a good one.

Back to the conference. More advice was to be engaged with other blogs and to link up to blogs you like (asking for permission first, of course). So, I will try to comment more on the blogs I read, too. This also leads into something that was said in the next panel, held at the Center for the Arts Cinema.

Center for the Arts Cinema

That panel was called "Publishing Today and Advice for Writers." On the stage sat Abigail Holstein (editor), Julie Barer (agent), Ravi Shankar (webzine publisher and teacher of the poetry class in the morning), Lexy Bloom (editor), Josh Henkin (writer), and Johnny Temple (publisher). Johnny gave the opening remarks, detailing how he went from Wesleyan graduate to being in a rock and roll band to a small press book publisher (he publishes Akashic Books, whose motto is "Reverse-Gentrification of the Literary World"). Since he had to leave in the middle of the discussion that followed, he left brochures for Akashic Books at the table where he sat. Thumbing through mine, I think I am too average to belong in his catalog of eclecticism (and yes, I made up that last word).

This panel included much great information, so I'll try to include the best nuggets here. When giving their introductions, the editors said that they look at voice and characters when deciding whether or not to publish a book. I don't remember if Julie (agent) agreed with them, but I'm guessing she did. Speaking of Julie, she said the best thing we can do to support new writers is to go out and buy hardcover books by them. After all, if we don't buy their books, why should we think that people will buy ours, when the time comes? Just like commenting on other blogs keeps us engaged in that world, buying books keeps us engaged in the literary world.

I should mention that Lexy is Josh's editor, so part of the focus, and what could be seen clearly between them, is the author/editor relationship. Writing may be a difficult business, publishing even more so, but it comforted me to see how well this editor and this author got along. In fact, all of the women on the panel were young and energetic, and if these two editors and one agent are representative of the publishing world as a whole, authors are in very good hands. Once they break through, of course.

Speaking of which, Julie (agent) mentioned that new authors only get one chance to impress an agent, so make sure the book is DONE before sending it out. She also clarified something pointed out in On Writing, which concerns taking a break between the writing of the first and second draft of a novel. She said to take off several weeks or several months between each draft, so that you can return to it fresh. So, when is the book done? According to her, when you've worked on it so much that you're sick of it. I think a better way to think of it is how Josh (writer) alluded to it--when you know your novel inside and out, it's done. At that point, everything in the book that should be in there is in there, and everything that shouldn't be in there, isn't (my opinion).

Since there was so much good advice given, I'll only include one more piece of advice here, given by Josh, and one that is critical. In regards to not sending out your novel too early (before you know it), he said to be open to change, but not to change something just because someone--whether it be an agent or an editor--tells you to. In his case, he changed all but 10 or 15 percent of his latest novel from the proposal to its revised form (following Lexy's letter about what she thought he should change in the novel), but he did it because he felt it needed to be changed. As he pointed out, if you split the word "revision" into its components, it means "to see something anew."

After the panel was over, we had a chance to talk one-on-one with all of the panel guests--minus, Johnny. We also could buy books by Ravi (a poetry book called Instrumentality) and Josh (who has written two books to date, the latest being Matrimony). I looked at Matrimony, but was turned off by discovering that some of it takes place in a writing workshop (the Iowa Writers Workshop, according to amazon.com). No thanks. I don't need to read about struggling writers. Looking at several poems in Instrumentality, however, I was struck at how good the language was. I turned it over. $16. Putting it back on the table, I decided to think about it.

I got to talk to Ravi first, even though I was originally in line to talk to Julie. I introduced myself, he introduced hisself, and we shook hands. He publishes poetry on the webzine Drunken Boat, but since they're working on the annual right now, they're not taking submissions. He told me they would start taking submissions again in August. I showed him my poetry book (I had brought a copy). He looked at the back and saw that I had gone to JMU. He had gone to UVa.

In response to my questions about first books of poetry and themes (I told him what I had in mind for my next collection of poetry), he said the first book of poetry is usually the 50 best poems by the poet. As for themes, they can be loose themes, since poems don't have to be placed in the context of a strict narrative. I told him I might buy his book, then got back in line for Julie.

I introduced myself to Julie, but we did not shake hands. Maybe she was waiting for me to put my hand out. Anyway, minor detail, though it did give me pause. My main question for her had to do with advice I had been given years before about working in only one genre or related genres. Since my ideas for stories come in all different genres (though mainly fantasy), I asked her if the advice I had been given was true, and how could I follow it when I don't think in terms of genre first, story second? Well, she disagreed with that assessment. She felt it was good for writers to expand into different genres. For a second novel, as long as it's good, it doesn't matter what genre it's written in, according to her. That led to a different question that I was originally going to ask her, which was, if that's the case, than how does one get an agent, since agents only handle certain genres. She said that my first novel should be most representative of the genre in which I would do the most writing. Then, for the next novel, I could tell my agent, "I'd like to try something a little bit different."

I originally was going to ask her if it were true that poets didn't need agents, but I forgot the question at the time, and so ended our conversation. Instead, I went back to the table where Instrumentality was being sold. The guy selling them, however, was packing up. When I asked him if I could see a copy of the book, however, he took one out for me. He also said that he'd be at the event that night, if I needed more time to decide. He didn't know if Ravi would be there, though (he was), and since my whole purpose was to get him to sign the book for me, I decided to buy it then. I then went back to Ravi and got him to sign it. He also wrote quite a lengthy message on it, since he knew I was a poet, too, basically wishing me luck and hoping to "see you in print."

I had no questions for the editors, so I began heading out. It was at that point that I realized I was no longer carrying my umbrella. I looked in my bag. Not there. I looked under the seats near the row I had sat in (I had sat front and center for the panel, unlike the out-of-the-way places I had sat for my previous classes). Not there. Thinking I might have left it in the bathroom (I went before the panel began), I went there to check. Nothing. I knew that I couldn't go outside without it. What to do? I ended up coming back into the auditorium and looking again. It's a dark umbrella; perhaps I just hadn't seen it.

I had just about given up when, going up the aisle on the righthand side, I saw an umbrella lying across a chair. It was far from where I was sitting, not being among any of the seats near where I had sat, and not even in the same row. In any case, it was my umbrella.

Usdan University Center

While I didn't bite off any plasticware at dinnertime, I did find myself alone--the only one to have a table to himself. Much fewer people ate dinner than had eaten lunch. While waiting for the dinner lines to open (we had a large break between the end of the last panel and dinnertime), I poured myself some tea, letting it cool on the table once I went up to get dinner, since it had almost burned my hands off while transporting it there (they had plastic cups, not styrofoam). I had cold cuts with bread, some tofu stuff, salad, and maybe some other items, as well. I guess Wesleyan is very Asian and health-conscious in their food choices.

Anyway, once I had finished dinner, I debated which table I should join. Since there was about an hour-and-a-half wait between dinnertime and the final event of the evening, it wasn't a question of whether or not I should sit with people at another table, but who I should ask. I finally decided on a table with two guys and two girls, all of whom look to be of college age (though they had looked older from afar). Basically, I filled a gap. There were several college-age students at the conference (and younger?), with the next age group being people in their late thirties/early forties. I saw no one there who looked to be in their late twenties or early thirties, though I might have missed them.

The group I sat with discussed the demerits of Twilight (no plot, vampires "sparkle"), how Twitter should work (not there to tell people about mundane happenings in your life), and other topics. I had a good discussion with the woman sitting next to me about the craft of writing and such. Oh, and to all you Twilight fans out there, I have not read the book or the series--I'm just passing along what I heard. The ones who were criticizing it, however, had read the book, and one of them had seen the movie.

So, onto the last event of the night: The Padraic Colum Event. Still not sure what it means, but all of us went back to the World Music Hall and got to hear Andre Aciman read from his new, still unpublished novel (it will be out on Valentine's Day next year). He said that the book had been unpublished last year when he came to Wesleyan, too.

The book follows a boy and girl who are in between relationships, and the eight days and nights that they spend together. Andre skipped around in his readings from the novel, but I couldn't tell when the skips occurred, and found myself zoning out at times, hypnotized by the words and his delivery. I plan on reading it when it comes it--it sounds very good. Wonder if I should ask for an advance because I'm helping to promote his book ;-) Oh wait, my audience is in single digits. Darn :-(

After the reading, all of the books that had been sold during the conference were out on a table (though I didn't see Matrimony there), right next to a punch bowl, fruit, and some cheese and crackers. I didn't talk much to anyone after the reading, beyond saying, "Excuse me," when I bumped into someone. I looked at Andre's books, but none of them grabbed me as strongly as his soon-to-be-published book had. The one that came the closest was Call Me by Your Name, his only novel for sale (and possibly his only novel). One could also purchase his memoirs and a collection of essays. And, they were all two dollars cheaper than the poetry book I had just bought, and much thicker. But I refrained. I also saw autographed copies of books by authors who had appeared earlier in the week, including some from Amy Bloom. Finally, an author I've heard of...though still haven't read.

What more is there to tell? After I snacked for a little bit, I went back to the parking lot and went home. Unfortunately, the street was one way, which I only discovered upon pulling out of the parking lot. Going the other way would have been so much easier. So, I ended up taking lots of K-turns on dark roads, crossed the border into the next town, pulled into a hotel parking lot to check my map, stopped in the middle of roads with no cars on them to check my map, pulled into yet another parking lot to check my map, got into wrong lanes and had to turn around, went the wrong direction on the right street, and finally, was able to follow my directions to Rte. 9, after which the rest of the ride home was fine, minus the pouring rain I hit upon reaching Hartford. Good thing I put in ten dollars worth of gas; I used up about fifteen.

Wesleyan Writers Conference One-Day Event, Part One

I woke up early on Thursday morning to drive to the Wesleyan Writers Conference One-Day Event. I brought with me my "man-purse," a black bag I had purchased in Japan, which has a main compartment, two side pockets, a handle that comes undone in order to access the main compartment, and a shoulder strap. In my bag, I carried a folder that included a partial map of Middletown, directions to and from Wesleyan, my emailed itinerary, and a campus map that was printed from the Wesleyan website. In addition, the bag carried two pencils, a pen, an eraser, a hand pencil sharpener, my moleskin notepad, extra tissues, cough drops, and tic tacs in the side pockets; and an umbrella, one copy of Digging Up the Past, a notebook, a camera, and two bottles of flavored water in the main pocket, where they shared space with the folder.

It was a rainy and dreary day, which contributed to stop-and-go action on I-84 W. Surprisingly, once I turned onto I-91 S, traffic was fine.

I got from my house to I-84 to I-91 to Rte. 9 all right, but I turned off of Rte. 9 too soon, and ended up wandering the streets of Middletown until, after turning down Church Street near what appeared to be the center of town, I pulled over in...a church parking lot.

I discovered that somehow, I was now south of Wesleyan, instead of north. Looking at the map right now, I'm not sure how I passed Wesleyan without noticing it, unless I went down some side street not on the map. In any case, I had just passed Union Green, so I realized that the best strategy would be to continue down Church Street and then take a right onto High Street. Soon after following these directions, the campus came into sight.

Upon finding the university, I now came across my second problem: where to park? Somehow, the parking lot I had found so easily on my map, right off of High Street, was nowhere to be seen. All of the one-way streets off of High Street didn't help matters. Finally, I found some groundskeepers and asked one of them where I was supposed to go. He didn't know where the conference was, and when I told him it was being held in the Writer's Conference (Building?), he didn't know where that building was, either. So, I showed him my scaled-down and hard to read campus map. I had highlighted the building I had to go to. He gave me directions to that building, but the only parking I found there was for faculty, and the building itself looked lifeless. I think I looped around again (thanks, one-way streets) before pulling into a parking lot where a woman, probably a teacher, was getting out of her car. I asked her where the Writers Conference was being held. She didn't know. She asked if I had the name of the building. When I told her at the Writers Conference, she asked if I had a name with me. That's when I thought of my itinerary. So, instead of showing her my map, I dug into my bag and found the three pieces of paper that listed that day's events. On there, it said I had to be at the Usdan University Center. Well, she knew where that was, and it wasn't the building I had highlighted on my map. Following her directions, I found the place easily, and with ample parking for visitors.

Usdan University Center

Unfortunately, I missed out on breakfast, since I arrived on the third floor at 8:50, and the first class started at 9 am, in a different building. But, I had eaten breakfast at home, so I really only missed out on having some tea. The woman manning the table on the third floor gave me my packet of stuff and told me where the classes were being held. More importantly, she told me where lunch and dinner would be served.

Sitting on a chair, I went through my materials and found the schedule of events, as well as my name tag (I put that on). I didn't have time to go through all of the materials in detail, so after flipping through everything, I stuffed them back in my folder, placed the folder in the bag I had brought with me, and headed off to my first class, which was held in Room 001 (a lecture hall) in the Public Affairs Center.

Public Affairs Center

My first class was on the novel, being taught by Alexander Chee. He was late. His assistant began class, but he came in soon after. I believe he said he had car trouble that morning.

As one person put it later during lunch, Alex looks like he just woke up and is disorganized, but then he'll come up with such nuggets of good advice. I would emphasize the "looks like" part, for he keeps on task, even if the structure of his lesson plan isn't apparent. It's kind of like listening to Debussy; he is working in meter, but you can't tell it's there.

Anyway, of the three classes that I took (I'm not including the seminars or panels), this one was the most beneficial to me. Of course, if I had gone to the full conference, I would've had five classes on the novel, instead of one. On this particular day, he discussed the climax and ending. Since the ending of the novel I've been working on has been a nightmare (the possibilities are endless, though I may be close to a good ending now), I was relieved to hear him say that writing multiple endings to a novel was "a good exercise" in trying to decide how to end a book. As he said, "You're looking for the surprise that accords." In other words, it must follow what has happened before, and yet a reader shouldn't be able to see it coming from the first page. On the other hand, it must be what the book wants, which is why one should never force an ending onto a book just because one wants that ending.

More practical advice included keeping a timeline of the novel up until the ending, so that one can visualize everything that has happened up to that point. I was thinking of doing an outline so that I knew what happened in which chapter, but this might be even more helpful to the ending. I'll probably do both. Another bit of advice was to keep a list of characters (the main ones, at least) and where they appear in the novel.

Oh, and during the class, I had an idea for the ending of one of the few play ideas that has been bouncing around in my head. Yay moleskin notepad!

My second class, on short stories, was with the very structured, very rule-driven Roxana Robinson, though she mentioned that the class really covered all aspects of fiction. We were supposed to read a story for that class called "The Sock," but like trying to find the other half of a pair of socks, I couldn't find the story in my packet. During the discussion that ensued, I borrowed the story from one of the women sitting in my row. She (and I, for that matter) had sat in the same seats for previous class, too. Hard to read a story among the chatter of others, though. At lunchtime, I found a copy of the story near a board in the dining area, and since coming home, I've been able to read it under quieter circumstances.

I guess the most unique thing about the story is that it broke many of the rules that Roxana had been teaching the class for the previous three days. These rules include using beautiful language (as in language chosen carefully, not purple prose), clear voice (point-of-view), sympathetic characters (not necessarily good, but we can engage with them--though wouldn't that be empathetic more than sympathetic?), conflict (didn't Beckett disprove that with Waiting for Godot?), and change (some short of shift has to come in the story, which I would agree is essential for short stories, and important for novels, too).

Then, because people who had been there all week had writing assignments that carried over from one class to the next, some volunteers read what they had written for that day's assignment. In the past, they had written a dialogue between two people, as well as some other exercises that I can't remember. On that day, they were to have written about one of the characters they had previously written about doing something that he or she loves. The point was to show how language can convey the love a character has for a task, rather than telling the reader, "So-and-so loves doing this." (That just made me think of something. In the novel that I'm writing, two of my characters love playing in the swamp. I should rework those parts so that they convey the joy that they feel, instead of getting all metaphysical about why they like playing there.)

In fact, that was part of the criticism that Roxana, and others, had concerning some of the stories (though the discussion felt like that which takes place in a freshman level English class--many averted eyes, few volunteers). In other words, don't tell me that they love what they're doing, show it through the language. Oftentimes, it will come out as great concentration on the character's part, according to Roxana. Sudden mood changes from chaotic to calm also suggest how much the character loves what they do, as it did in one story read during that class.

Out of all the stories that I heard, several were very good, and one--about a woman caring for a mango tree--was phenomenal. Later, I got to share my praise of that short story with its author.

Usdan University Center (back), as seen from the Public Affairs Center

Next came lunch, back at the Usdan University Center. They had salad, cold cuts, rolls, and cake there, as well as some more unusual fare. I'm still not sure what it was, thought I tried some of it. It looked to be Western Asia fare, but not Indian. Not realizing that I could go up multiple times, or maybe not thinking of going up more than once, I tried to cram everything I wanted to eat onto one small plate-even dessert.

I initially sat alone, but I was joined by several people who knew each other, including the two women who had sat near me at both of my morning classes. They were all from Avon and Simsbury, which might explain why most of them seemed to work in the medical profession. They asked me a few questions, but most of the time, I listened to them. All of them were older than me, though the youngest could have been in her late thirties (since she had kids in high school, however, I would guess that she more likely was in her early forties).

As I was eating my cold cuts (with a fork, not in a bread roll), I heard a crunch. Now, nothing in a piece of roast beef should be crunchy, so I looked at my plastic fork. One of the ends had been bitten off. I guess I had bitten down too hard.

Instead of spitting out the piece of roast beef within my mouth, however, I located where the piece of plastic was within the piece of meat. Unfortunately, sometime between then and when I swallowed the rest of the meat, I must have swallowed the offending plastic. Since I don't have any internal bleeding issues at the moment, I can only assume that it passed out of my system safely.

The rain had let up a little before lunchtime, but now it was pouring outside. Heading back to the Public Affairs Center, I had to find Room 004 for my next class: poetry. Well, that proved difficult. I finally found it around a corner that appeared to end in a room, not another corridor, but the teacher for that class, Ravi Shankar (no, not the musician), was late. Very late. He apologized when he came in, thinking that the class was at 1:30, not 1:15, as it had been on all previous days. In addition to his being late, he also noticed that none of us had the packets that should have been waiting for us in the room. That led to him calling Anne Greene, the director of the conference. Also, he asked for a volunteer to pick up the packets.

While waiting, we discussed "alternate ways to organizing poems." In other words, poems can be organized by meter (pentameter) or stress (iambic, anapest, dactyl). Alternate ways include concrete poems (that look like the objects they're describing), and syllabics. Syllabic poetry organizes poems according to the number of syllables in each line, and can be as complex as rhyming patterns in determining how the poem is written. The most well-known syllabic form of poetry is haiku.

We were about to start an assignment at that point, but then the packets arrived. So, we had volunteers read some of the poems in the packet out loud, while the other ones could be read at our leisure. All of the poems were syllabic. We focused mainly on self-portrait poetry that compares oneself to another object (i.e. "Self-Portrait with Insomnia, Rocks, and Fireflies" by Stephen Cramer and "Self-Portrait as a Seismograph" by Cecily Parks), though we also read "The Thin Man" by Donald Justice and (my personal favorite) "Metaphors" by Sylvia Plath. I have to say, the two self-portrait poems were weird and difficult to understand (the seismograph one more than the other), yet Ravi seemed to agree with all of the assessments that came in from the students for each poem, which is necessary to encourage a discussion on poetry, but also made me wonder what one could say about a poem to which he wouldn't nod his head.

The assignment (which he encouraged one-day students to try, as well) was to write a self-portrait poem "composed with something" (that's what I wrote, but maybe I meant "compared with something"?). And, we were to write it in syllabics. I did write one, though on Friday as opposed to Thursday night. You can see it in my previous blog.

Next time, I'll discuss the panels that I went to, what happened at dinner, and something called the Padraic Colum Evening.

Click here to read Part Two.