Mailbag

This is an excerpt from the first letter my grandfather sent to my grandmother, dated August 23, 1942.


"Guess you think maybe I was handing you some kind of a line about writing you, but you see I couldn't wait until tomorrow to write you. Listen really you kinda swept me off my feet. You have been on my mind every minute since you left last night."

Swoon. They've been married 66 years now. Kinda makes me want to write a love letter with a fountain pen.

stylized version of an obsolete file

I don't want to spend the rest of my time
lookin' for the words I'm never going to find.
Read them in a book and apply them to your life,
but how can I be as pretty as she writes?

[[she don't want to spend the rest of her heart -
waste it on a job and never get a start.
part of her says she should be herself,
and part of her says she should be with someone else]]

It'll be hard, but I know I'm all right.

Part of Me is safe
(and Part of Me is lies)
So be mine tonight.

To Kill a Mockingbird Tuesday

by Harper Lee
I did this one backwards. I watched the movie, then read the book. In my defense, I saw the movie for the first time at about age six. I remember the whole family in the living room, with me sprawled out in front of the TV, probably dozing during the middle court scenes and waking up with the final resolution. I've watched it countless times since then, and find it to be the best, almost to-the-letter representation of a book that I've ever encountered. I'm glad I waited to read the book, because I doubt would have appreciated the writing.

Lee has this style of writing that is so Southern, but so...not. I can't describe how she makes you feel like you're in the South without depending on the dialect. You can feel the slow pace and the dusty roads, you can hear the neighbors gossiping on the porch and lowering their voices to whispers as you walk by. She accomplishes all this and more without employing an excessive amount of y'alls, ya hears, ain'ts, and other Southern phrases that are often overused to try and set the scene.

And the characters, wow. I think having the movie in the back of my mind as I read kind of shaped the book for me, but even minor characters I couldn't picture as clearly, like Calpurnia and the townspeople, still stepped from the pages. I fell head over heels for Atticus. So smart and reserved, a good father, an honest man. *swoon* Plus, Gregory Peck was quite the dish! Jem is a really realistic pre-teen boy, if I remember my brother at that age. (Ok, ok, you got me. I had a crush on Jem too.) Scout is the typical tomboy, trying to hold on to her brother as long as she can, if I remember me at that age.

My brother and I have that exact same Sears Portrait Studio™ pose.
Scout reminds me of Ramona Quimby, and for a long time I wanted to be each of them. Good role models.

Ramona Quimby, from the starched dress to the socks that won't stay up.
I think it also says something about the characters and the writing (as much as the power of the story itself) that I could read it and still feel the punch in certain scenes, still cry in certain scenes, still get my hopes up, even though I already knew what was going to happen. This is a novel where the fun is in reading it, not knowing it.

I can see why it won so many awards - it's timeless. And it applies to many different cultures - a co-worker saw me reading it and told me that his friend's son in Australia was reading it for class. Apparently Tom Robinson's trial parallels the aborigine struggles down under. And the desk-girl at the tattoo shop was reading it today! She said it was too slow for her, she wished "the kid would hurry up and get shot, already!" ...Anyway... I'm going to have to reconfigure my top three now; this is definitely a book that I will re-read every year.

Manuscript Monday

The Time: 8.09a
The Setting: My cube

*work phone ringing*
Allison: Yes sir?
Bossman: Who wrote To Kill a Mockingbird?
Allison: Harper Lee.
Bossman: Where was he from?
Allison: It's a she. From Alabama.
Bossman: Oh gross, no wonder why I didn't like it. A female writer?
*two men giggling through the speakerphone before he hangs up*

Not the best thing to hear when you're submitting work as a *ahem* female writer. Did you catch that? Submitting work? Me? Yup, my baby spreadsheet is growing. It doesn't look as barren now.

At lunch I venture out to mail a few print submissions; most were online, either via email or upload. There is something so satisfying about printing out your own work, stapling the pages, proofreading your cover letter one last time before sealing up the large manilla envelope.

Remember to include a SASE for a prompt rejection!
Then you're waiting in line at the post office and suddenly, you feel like a dumbass. Maybe it's the harsh sunlight that makes everything too real, maybe it's the guy standing a littletooclose behind you, making you cover the addresses casually with your arm and scoot up to the petite old lady in front of you. By the time the postage is put on the packets, you're really dying to ask, "Can I have my $3.66 back?" But you swallow the words and step back out into the humidity saying, "You never know until you try," over and over again like a mantra.

Wipeout

I used to feel kind of ripped off that I didn't have a "normal," cable-laden childhood. I missed out on Nikelodeon's Double Dare, and though my brother and I always had a good time mocking the early '90s American Gladiators, I still felt incomplete.

Not anymore. I have found my grown-up yet delightfully immature equivalent of Double Dare:

How did I live so long without this? Why did I live so long without this? My boss and a coworker told me about the show the other day. As they described the obstacle course (apparently the World's Largest™), I felt like I was watching a tennis match. They finished each other's sentences, often interrupting each other.
"Remember that fat lady in the hot pants?!" *maniacal laughter from the other*
"What about that guy who made his body into a moose!" *a diagram was drawn to explain*
"How about that chick with the annoying laugh; she laughed after everything!" *cue two grown men imitating the giggles of a drunk pre-teen*
"You're making this up!" I scolded them. They're notorious jokers; I was sure they were pulling my leg.

They were not. And after watching all the episodes I could find online, I am smitten. I can't remember the last time I laughed this hard.

The show is hosted by a John who used to be on Talk Soup and a John who used to be on SportsCenter. Together, their narration is reminiscent of the old UPN classic, "Blind Date." They make up mocking nicknames for each contestant, and use them throughout the entire show. Their smart ass comments are always perfectly timed, and their puns are deliciously un-funny. It's perfection in the form of a one-hour reality show.

True, there is no green slime, but there are the hilarious and bouncy Big Balls:

The whole course is set up over water and/or mud. Other obstacles include:
- the Sucker Punch - a wall of boxing gloves that will randomly hit your head, shoulders, and groin as you shimmy past on a thin ledge
- the Dizzy Dummy - a cylinder that spins you around for awhile, then releases you to complete another challenge
- the Hurdles, which sometimes have a circle on top you have to crawl through, and always lurch up and down
- the Drawbridge, which you have to climb up, but it drops at varying speeds and times, usually throwing the contestant
- the Bull, or sometimes Rocket - a mechanical bull (painted like a lady bug...) or rocket on a rotating platform that the contestant must stay on, often getting sprayed with water or foam as a distraction
- the Scary-Go-Round, the Catapult, the Gears of Doom, and the Gauntlet, just to name a few more and leave you guessing as to their purpose

My favorite is The Sweeper. The contestants stand on high platforms while a hurdle swings around. They have to jump over it the first time, but then the hosts turns on the "gyro" function, which makes the Sweeper rotate in a circle, meaning the contestants have to watch and decide if they should jump or duck to avoid getting hit into the water.

That's really hard to explain. Here, the hosts' kick-ass sportscaster-type drawings can describe it better than I can.

The contestants are everyday people in street clothes. According to a website I stumbled across, they're doing casting right. now. Which made me wonder... What would I do for $50,000? (Oh, right, did I leave that out? These people are making fools of themselves for a chance to win fifty grand. Kinda crucial to the whole thing...)

I don't think I'd go on this show. First off, it's hard work! It's a really intense obstacle course, as hilarious as it may sound. Second, I don't want those two Johns taking jabs at me! I know I'd be an easy target. Third, broadcast on TV? No thank you. I have an irrational fear of being on TV.

For $50,000 I would, however, take Jill Wagner's job and interview contestants, then stand at the end of the course and make smart remarks. And, at my own expense, I would take a trip to the course and play around on it as a vacation, with no cameras around.

EDIT: I forgot to mention, I watched these episodes online via Fancast. They keep a handful of the most recent up. My favorite is the couples episode - double the humiliation! Or perhaps I'm just a sucker for romance...

Stranger than...

This might make me sound a bit off, so I'd like to preface by saying I am the most down-to-earth person I know. I don't believe in spirits, ghosts, or the paranormal. Though I sometimes get the feeling of déjà vu, I don't necessarily buy into it. I don't believe in fate. Hell, I don't even dare to have high hopes - I'm no optimist. Coincidences... okay, I'll bite. I get a kick out of a good coincidence.

So. Here we go:

Two of my stories have come true.

Seriously. Not the entire story. But enough.

ONE. I wrote the first draft for Bausch's workshop, summer 2008. A character in the story was based on someone I knew in real life, true, but the rest was purely fiction. My roommate read it; she knew who the character was supposed to be. Then she read the second, greatly expanded draft later that fall. She was with me when my life began to parallel the story - I was NOT making it up or exaggerating; she acknowledged it, too. It was like this person read my story and decided to play the best joke ever on me. As things progressed, my life thankfully did not follow the story's plot line, but still - strange.

TWO. The story I wrote last week - again, characters are loosely based on people I know in real life (as always), but the action is pure fiction. This morning stuff was happening at such an early hour, and I was sleeping so heavily that I wasn't sure if I was dreaming or actually hearing things. [[There was the storm, the hushed voices.]] My boss has read the story; when I got to work I told him what happened. "Be careful what you write..." he warned.

I'm sure he was joking. And it's not like every story I write is coming true. Characters aren't tracking me down and coming to my office pleading with me to keep them alive. I'm pretty sure the only life I narrate is my own. Still, it's unsettling. Like having pieces of a dream come true. Except the things coming true aren't necessarily good or bad. They just happen. And it's not like I set myself up for them - I don't write something about these people/characters that has to either go one way or another. They are random freak connections - or maybe just coincidences. THAT, I can swallow.

I wanna know more than your brain

One of my favorite things about workshop is how people will read into your story waaaay more than you ever intended. Personally, I have never read that much into fiction. Sure, some lines are gorgeous and poignant and strike deep, and relate to real life on another level, but I've never tried to find meaning in fiction. Until I had to. It's amazing what some people will come up with. I remember reading "Constant Pain in Tuscaloosa" by Barry Hannah in my first fiction workshop. I didn't find it that earth-shattering, but the boys in my class (and they were all boys) were very passionate about it. The narrator riding his motorcycle around the block twice to watch the black guy eating a banana meant the narrator was gay. No, it meant he was homophobic. No, it was a jab at the black guy, calling him a monkey. WOW. I just thought the narrator was amazed at how much the guy was enjoying the banana, maybe wistful he never found pleasure in something so simple, especially in public. Wrong, wrong, wrong. Everything means something else.

Hidden meanings can be a good thing when your story is being workshopped. Sometimes it's hilarious to hear what people read into this story you whipped up. Sometimes it puts things into perspective, and you realize the point of the story is actually x, not y. Sometimes it helps you see where else the story could go, how other people interpreted certain aspects.

I gave copies of the story I wrote yesterday to my boss and art manager today. They always ask to read my stuff, and so they've pretty much followed through my creative writing degree. I like getting their opinions first, because I can print out the story in the morning and have comments in the afternoon. My art manager is always very encouraging. I was a little worried the story had no purpose, no drive, but she gave a really great interpretation, and I was like Yeah, that's what I wanted it to be about! I have some ideas on how to tweak it to make that clearer, now.

I stayed a bit late to get a package ready, and when I went to my boss' office for the shipping label he was reading my story. I started grinning like an idiot. I know I gave him a copy to read, but it was so cool to see someone reading my work and looking so engrossed in it! When I went back for more packing supplies, he said "I love this, this is perfect," and read me a sentence. Then his phone rang and he listened for a second. "Oh, right, yeah I'm on my way now." He was late picking his wife up! (They carpool.) Then he sat there and finished the story before leaving to get her. Impressive. I can't wait to hear his feedback tomorrow. While my art manager is encouraging (but maybe lying?), my boss is brutally honest. He always provides good suggestions for changes - several of which I made to the stories I applied to MFA programs with. And here I am, getting ready to go... haha.

I think I'm ready to start seriously submitting. I mean, I have my spreadsheet ready to go. It's so empty.

My new favorite thing to do when I have a spare moment at work is submit fake texts to Texts From Last Night. I am so hilarious that they actually get approved, though the comments they receive don't keep me amused very long.

Hit Hard

Hit Hard: A Story of Hitting Rock Bottom at the Top by Joey Kramer
with William Patrick and Keith Garde
Joey Kramer's book is all about him - surprise surprise, right? It's an autobiography, of course it's about him! But it's about his struggles through life, it's not just a name-dropping, I'm a kick-ass rock star type of book.

Joey Kramer tells you everything. He tells you about frequently crying like a baby as a grown man, he tells you about shitting his pants because he was so strung out, he tells you about the guilt he feels for missing out on his son's childhood because of drugs. He shoulders some of the blame for his marriage ending, instead of pushing it off onto his ex-wife, who wouldn't be able to defend herself.

One of the most emotional parts was when he went to see his abusive father, who was wasting away from Alzheimer's.
     "His face was like a mask. The disease had taken everything, even his ability to smile or talk. This big strong guy, this soldier who had stormed the beaches at Normandy to fight the Nazis was now helpless, stiff and hunched over, his muscles wasted away from not being used. It broke my heart, and I thought, This is the raging monster who had terrorized me when I was growing up?"

Throughout the book, Joey delves deeply into the complicated relationship with his dad, even sharing the letter he wrote after his father's death, forgiving him. I won't lie - I bawled uncontrollably during those sections. My heart went out to Joey for what he went through with his father, but then I was so proud and inspired that he forgave his dad.

Joey's battle with depression is very common, but it's always hard to believe that other people know how you're feeling. "...this depression was just one big hole, and I was right at the edge, looking down into the darkness, and the darkness had a gravitational pull all its own. I didn't want to go down there, and yet I couldn't pull away."

The book is about Aerosmith too, of course - he is the drummer. But it's not bragging about what he had, lost, and got back. It's about trying to define himself in another way: "'Who are you, Joey Kramer? Who are you without Aerosmith?' I was forty-five years old, and it was time for me to have an answer."

It's not a self-help book, but there are a lot of nuggets of advice in there that I had to make note of. Here are a couple:
+ "I was learning to recognize that the minute I assumed something about what someone else was thinking or feeling about me and I got into defending against that assumption, not only was I giving life to a committee of enemies in my head, but I was the 'chairman' of that committee. Maybe most important, I began to hear the concept that we are not what other people feel about us or think about us."
+ "...that okay feeling has to be independent of how others might try to make me feel. ... The trick for me is having the right kind of boundaries - knowing which feelings belong to me and which are yours."

Disclaimer: Yes, I love Joey Kramer. But I'm not biased - I hate musicians that complain they never ever wanted to be famous, that they just wanted to play music - even when all they wrote about in their journals was how to book more shows, how to get in with this agent, how to get more public exposure (coughKurtCobaincough). I hate celebrities who use their fame to bring attention to themselves for any little thing, as a soapbox to force their views on the public.
     It's easy to read a review from someone who is biased and think it's all bullshit. And true, maybe you wouldn't like this book, and maybe you think Aerosmith is a shitty, money-grubbing band. That's fine. But this is an honest story, and a powerful one, and it's clear to see the point of the book is not to make Joey look cool. I know he made money from signing the book deal, writing the manuscript, and from each copy sold. But I honestly think that he wanted to get his story out there.
     "You don't have to be a rock star to crash and burn. The details of our stories may be different, but as humans, our pain is the same. ... I tried to convey a story that - while uniquely mine - is so relatable that it serves to deliver a universal message of hope and the process of healing."

And that's refreshing to hear from any celebrity.