Emerging Writers Network

National Short Story Month - Guest Post - John McNally

The following is a guest post from the wonderful John McNally, who was probably wondering if I was lying about SSM as he was the first author to send me his guest post, over a month ago now. I love this post. While I wasn't doing a lot of drinking while an undergraduate at the University of Michigan in the late 80's, I was spending a ton of time wandering the stacks of the Rackham Graduate Library looking at literary journals:

When I was an undergraduate at Southern Illinois University in the 1980s, I spent a lot of time drinking.  A lot of time.  But I also spent a lot of time writing, and while working on a story in Morris Library, I would wander the stacks, pulling literary magazines off shelves and piling them up around me, like a fortress around my legal pad and pen.  Whenever I was stuck on a story, I would pick up a magazine and start reading it.  At that time, I didn’t recognize any writer’s name; I was just trying to learn about writing short stories, and I was eager to start submitting to these strange magazines that came in a variety of shapes. I liked the typewriter font of The Wormwood Review, but they published only poetry, and I wasn’t a poet.  I liked the weird covers of The Mississippi Review and the stateliness of The Hudson Review.  There was even something appealing about the ugly orange covers of the old Virginia Quarterly Review.  A few magazines I became obsessed with, like Beloit Fiction Journal, whose first issues had just come out, and Sou’wester, published by SIU’s sister school in Edwardsville.  In other words, I loved them all – the slick-looking ones and the ugly ones alike, the perfect-bound and the saddle-stapled.  More importantly, I loved the thrill of discovering new stories. 

In Sou’wester, I remember reading the work of a relatively unknown writer named Robert Wexelblatt, who went on to publish a few books of fiction.  I discovered Kent Haruf’s beautiful and chilling “Private Debts/Public Holdings” in Grand Street, and I discovered Dan Chaon for the first time in Ploughshares when I read his story “Fraternity.” Andre Dubus often published in Crazyhorse, so I would return to that magazine again and again. Other writers I remember stumbling upon?  Eileen Pollack in an issue of Prairie Schooner with mice on its cover.  Elizabeth Jolley and Alice Munro in the old Grand Street.  Bob Shacochis in The Missouri Review.  Tom Perrotta in Columbia Magazine. I remember finding in TriQuarterly a story by David Ordan whose title changed the way I thought about titles: “Any Minute Mom Should Come Blasting through the Door.”  Wow!  I had to read it. I would make photocopies of my favorite stories and hand them out to friends who might like them, and I would make my own private anthologies of my favorite stories.

As I said, I drank a lot when I was an undergraduate, and I blew off a lot of classes, but one of my fondest memories of those years – and one of my fondest memories of trying to become a writer – was reading all of these great stories for the first time, finding them in the library stacks, and it felt like some kind of great secret that I knew about that my other classmates didn’t, and it was my secret key to unlocking what I was going to do for the rest of my life.  And so when my students now come to me and say, “Where should I send my work? Could you help me put together a list?” I tell them that they should be going to the library or looking for journals online, and that they should be reading, reading, reading, until they find magazines and journals for which they’d sacrifice something in their life to be in. 

 

 

John McNally is author of five works of fiction, including the story collections Troublemakers (U. of Iowa Press) and Ghosts of Chicago (Northwestern U. Press). He’s also author of The Creative Writer’s Survival Guide: Advice from an Unrepentant Novelist.  A book on craft – Vivid and Continuous: Essays and Exercises for Fiction Writers – will be published in the spring of 2013 by University of Iowa Press.

National Short Story Month - Guest Post by Pamela Ryder

A couple of recommendations from Pamela Ryder:

A German Picturesque (Knopf) by Jason Schwartz

One wonders what the world actually looks like to Jason Schwartz.  Is it a great gallery in which the most mundane of objects become luminous and mysterious, as they are on the page?  His sentences are not complex, nor are they bound in the usual contrivances of character and plot, and yet his fictions reveal the intricacies of living in a way that will chill you to the bone.  You’ll see.

 

Further Adventures in the Restless Universe (Dzanc) Stories by Dawn Raffel

She’s a sly one, this Raffel, weighing the most ordinary of situations with the often-missed gravity of human existence. “There’s so little time,” a departing mother tells her daughter. Indeed. Raffel’s stories have us linger in those moments that so quickly pass us by, so quickly we dismiss, and have us know the way of mother and daughter, sister and sister, husband and wife.  Her stories bear us away on sentences that “pummel us gently”, as Raffel would say, with a pure lack of sentiment and a nod to what we are most likely to miss.

 

Pamela Ryder is the author of Correction of Drift (FC2) and A Tendency to Be Gone (Dzanc Books).

National Short Story Month - On Zhu Wen via Roy Kesey

A guest post today from Roy Kesey about Zhu Wen:

The questions I most often ask myself are hard questions that do not have good answers such as Why did you just do that stupid painful expensive-to-fix thing? More fun is thinking about short stories for a month and then not exactly out of nowhere asking myself whom I most want to write another book of them.

 The rule (arbitrary, crucial): the person must still be alive.

 And so now here is today's answer: Zhu Wen.

 I hope that you have already read his collection I Love Dollars (brilliantly trans. Julia Lovell, Penguin, 2008), the one where he says things like:

 “Faces no longer mattered, in this kind of light.”

 and

 “It's a great life if you don't weaken. Or at least not as bad as you think it is.”

 and

 “Plan E was, in short, to wait for death.”

 and

  “Whenever I see a baby, my heart fills with pity. Why so late, unlucky child?”

 and

 “'Instant noodles,' he said. His monotone implied neither desire for dialogue nor admiration for my choice; he was just saying it, trying the words out: Instant noodles.”

 and

 “The plan was to soothe my nerves, but all I ended up with was a droopy scrotum.”

 If you haven't then you definitely should. The stories are set in a China getting richer but not better (with the implication that if it were getting poorer, or staying the same, it would also not be getting better). These days Zhu Wen is mostly making movies that win prizes in Europe. The films are each very good, almost as good as his stories, which are glitteringly smart and funny and sad, and it would be great if he'd write some more soon.

 

Roy Kesey's most recent book is the novel Pacazo (USA: Dzanc Books, 2011; UK & Commonwealth: Random House 2012), which The Times has praised as “big, intelligent and wonderfully original.” His previous books include the award-winning novella Nothing in the World, a historical guide to the Chinese city of Nanjing, and a short story collection called All Over, which made The L Magazine's “Best Books of the Decade” list. His short stories, essays, translations and poems have appeared in more than a hundred magazines and anthologies, including Best American Short Stories, The Robert Olen Butler Prize Anthology and New Sudden Fiction. He is the recipient of a 2010 prose fellowship from the National Endowment for the Arts, and currently lives in Peru with his wife and children.

Dzanc Books to Publish Robert Coover!

Dzanc Books just issued a Press Release--exciting news!                                                  

 

Dzanc Books to Publish Robert Coover

May 29, 2012 - Ann Arbor, MI—Dzanc Books is proud to announce that it will publish The Brunist Day of Wrath, the sequel to Robert Coover’s award-winning debut novel, The Origin of the Brunists, in September 2013. Dzanc Books will also publish an as yet untitled Coover short story collection in September 2014. The Dzanc rEprint Series will be publishing ten of Coover’s backlist titles to eBook form beginning in August 2012 and running on up through August 2013. Titles include the aforementioned award-winning The Origin of the Brunists; Pricksongs & Descants; The Public Burning; Spanking the Maid; Gerald's Party; A Night at the Movies, or You Must Remember  This; Whatever Happened to Gloomy Gus of the Chicago Bears; Pinocchio in Venice; John's Wife; and Ghost Town.

Robert Coover has published fourteen novels, three short story collections, and a collection of plays since The Origin of the Brunists received the The William Faulkner Foundation First Novel Award in 1966. At Brown University, where he has taught for over thirty years, he established the International Writers Project, a program that provides an annual fellowship and safe haven to endangered international writers who face harassment, imprisonment, and suppression of their work in their home countries.  In 1990-91, he launched the world's first hypertext fiction workshop, was one of the founders in 1999 of the Electronic Literature Organization, and in 2002 created CaveWriting, the first writing workshop in immersive virtual reality. Michiko Kakuntaini of The New York Times has said “Of all the postmodern writers, Robert Coover is probably the funniest and most malicious, mixing up broad social and political satire with vaudeville turns, lewd pratfalls, and clever word plays that make us rethink both the mechanics of the world and our relationship to it.” Coover has also received awards from the Lannan Foundation, American Academy of Arts and Letters, National Endowment of the Arts, and the Rea Lifetime Short Story Award.

Dzanc's Executive Director, Dan Wickett, said of the acquisition:  "We are thrilled to be able to bring out both new and past work from Robert Coover, a favorite author of ours here at Dzanc Books for many years. To be able to bring back many of his older works to a new readership is extremely exciting and to see him return to West Condon and the Brunists after all these years with a simply fantastic novel is something we’re very happy to be a part of."

This signing was made through Robert Coover’s agent, Georges Borchardt.

About Dzanc Books

Dzanc Books was created in 2006 to advance great writing and to impact communities nationally with our efforts to advance literary readership and our advocacy of creative writing workshops and readings. As a non-profit, 501(c)3 organization, Dzanc Books not only publishes literary fiction, but works in partnership with literary journals to advance their readership at every level. Dzanc is also fully committed to developing educational programs in schools.

For more information on Dzanc Books and its mission, imprints, books, authors, awards, and programs, please visit www.dzancbooks.org.

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National Short Story Month - The Last Film of Alan Smithee by Gabriel Blackwell

The opening paragraph of Gabriel Blackwell's story, "The Last Film of Alan Smithee," published in Conjunctions 58:

After all that, I chose the avatar that looked most like me: similar build, similar features. I gave him my name, Alan Smithee. I gave him glasses. I felt relatively certain that my wife would have recognized this, at least, as progress. There had been so many choices of what to be—round bodies, flat bodies, flabby bodies, tan, pale, or liver-spotted bodies, bodies with long arms or skinny legs, triangular noses, dimpled chins, jug ears, or thin lips. So many choices. Now it was done. Once, she had opened my cabinet in the kitchen and stood next to me, silent, while I looked in. Six identical rows, seven cans deep—three weeks’ worth of meals. She had opened my closet. Six blue Oxford shirts with left pockets; next to them, a row of plain-front khaki slacks. I had one gray suit that I never wore, though this was never remarked upon. There was no time in my schedule for a job. It took me hours to get dressed. I thought about what I had to do that day. I tried different combinations. I had long ago ceased to eat breakfast—by the time I was dressed, it was lunchtime. I stood in front of the open cabinet in the kitchen, scanning the rows. I could not allow lunchtime to pass in the same way as breakfast had, but I always bitterly regretted my choice, closing off as it did other, very possibly better, choices. Having fewer things to choose from had made these decisions somewhat easier, though of course the smaller differences in each item—of circumstance, of memory, of effect—meant that a high degree of care was still required. In the game, some of these choices had been made for me. I gave my avatar the khaki slacks. I gave my avatar the blue shirt. I gave my avatar the brown shoes. I chose the haircut that I had had since the age of eighteen. My wife had it styled once, the day we got married. I wore a tuxedo in our wedding photographs. People asked if it was me when they saw the photographs. I considered laughing. I considered who was speaking to me. I considered what they would want to hear. I considered answering seriously. I considered making a joke. I considered answering with a question of my own. I considered changing the subject. In time, they moved off.

for some reason has me thinking Blackwell was stumbling through some sort of writer's block. The numerous choices in what type of character to write about, or what setting for the story or really any of the innumerable possibilities when staring at that first blank page and how it would be possible to have those variables cause nearly nothing to get done. As the story progresses there does have a feel to it that Blackwell is writing a story that also describes the writing of a story. Whether or not that is the case, what I can say is that he's written an entertaining story that kept my attention from first word to the last and one that's got me thinking--something I always admire in a story.

 

 

National Short Story Month - The Uninnocent by Bradford Morrow

"The Uninnocent" is the title story of Bradford Morrow's most recent short story collection (Pegasus Books, 2011). This is the second story this month that I've read on my kindle and not in print form--I'm still trying to determine what exactly this does to the reading experience, something smarter people than I have thought about.

An instance.  Down by the lake. Blind old dear Bob Coconut, the dog, stiffened in the legs, lying in the long grass. The air blue. Autumn. The water was cold, and red and brown leaves clotted the surface of the lake near the shore, like an oil slick. Angela and I had a sign that day. We'd found a dead ovenbird that'd flown into the kitchen window, and we knew what that meant. Out in the boat, we got our friend  Butter calmed down enough so that he would let us tie him up like we always liked to do, and tickled him, and  warned him if he laughed we would throw him overboard. The blue air was turning toward purple as the sun moved down into the trees and evening wason us. We'd been so hard at our game we hadn't noticed how quickly the hours passed.

I love this passage--the use of colors, the combination of short, choppy sentences with longer, winding sentences. The oil slick simile. And especially that last sentence, which captures an aspect I remember from childhood as well as any I've read.

One aspect of the short story, from a collection (if it's not the last one) via an eReader is that not knowing you're coming to the end of it. Which is what I was wondering as I got to the end of this one and was hit with a complete surprise. Was it due to the fact that I was unaware I was approaching the end of the story? Having thought about it for the last few hours though, I think it's really more due to Morrow's writing--there was certainly some foreshadowing to my surprise, and it was nice and subtle as it should be (in my opinion). It has me looking forward to the rest of the collection.

National Short Story Month - The Hat Act by Robert Coover

"The Hat Act" by Robert Coover is the last story in his collection Pricksongs & Descants. This collection was actually my introduction to Coover's work back in 1988 (when it was almost 20 years old) after having read one of the stories from within, "The Babysitter," in an anthology for a creative writing class (Thank you Alyson Hagy!). Dipping in and re-reading various stories this past week or so has been a great reminder of what it was that excited me about Coover's work with this introduction to it.

Re-reading "The Hat Act," I am a little surprised at the difference between my 22 year old reading self vs. my 46 year old reading self. The question is whether or not I actually understand what I read better now, or if perhaps I think a bit too much of my ability to read now and develop theories that are ridiculous?

The story begins:

In the middle of the stage: a plain table.

A man enters, dressed as a magician with black cape and black silk hat. Doffs hat in wide sweep to audience, bows elegantly.

Applause.

He displays inside of hat. It is empty. He thumps it. It is clearly empty. Places hat on table, brim up. Extends both hands over hat, tugs back sleeves exposing wrists, snaps fingers. Reaches in, extracts a rabbit.

Applause.

And it continues going back and forth between the magician's moves, and the crowd's response, though it's not always "Applause."

Later in the story:

Trembling with anxiety, magician presses out first hat, places it brim up on table, crushes second hat on floor. Wads second hat, tries desperately to jam it into first hat. No, it will not fit. Turns irritably to pitch second hat into wings.

Loud booing.

Freezes. Pales. Returns to table with both hats, first in fair condition brim up, second still in a crumpled wad. Faces hats in defeat. Bows head as though to weep silently.

Hissing and Booing.

The story continues on with the magician doing better and better tricks to applause, and then any time the crowd was not as happy as they had been with previous tricks, they let the magician know. And here's where now I think maybe I see something I didn't see 24 years ago--the fact that the story appears to be Coover's description of what it's like to be a writer of fiction, and especially a writer of fiction that tended to walk on the high wire. When that wire wasn't high enough, or dangerous enough, readers would be quick to let him know. At least that's how I see it now--who know what I'll think when I'm reading this story at age 70 in another 24 years.

The ending is a particularly brutal ending that I won't spoil here--I highly suggest you find a copy of this book and read it yourself.

National Short Story Month - Latitude by Merrill Joan Gerber

Merrill Joan Gerber's short story, "Latitude," comes from her collection, This is a Voice from Your Past. It begins:

Martha stood under the bright dining-room light behind her mother-in-law, snipping deftly at the gray hairs high on the thick, slightly wrinkled neck. Funny, she thought, that she would trust me at her back with a sharp instrument. She clipped the hairs neatly, feeling them brush her legs as they fell to the floor. When she got home, she would have to shake out her shoes.

This paragraph shines on some of the things I've really enjoyed while getting myself caught up on the decades of great writing Gerber has provided readers with: the humor (the line about the sharp instrument), the frequent writing on family and relationships within, and her attention to detail (that last line).

This particular story moves nicely timewise to give the reader  more insight into that first paragraph, and especially the line of humor, with back story about Martha and her husband Will, and their courtship and Edna (the mother-in-law) and her husband's strong stance against their son moving so fast with the first person he connected with. How they got past that, and how they get to the point of cutting hair is deftly handled, and wonderfully told.

National Short Story Month - A Full-Service Shelter by Amy Hempel

The new issue of Tin House (52, not currently visible on their website) has a plethora of great short stories and one of those is "The Full-Service Shelter" by Amy Hempel. Nearly every paragraph, and many second and third sentences within paragraphs, in the story begins "They knew me..." or "They knew us..." with the "they" in question being dogs that are at the full-service center.

They knew us as teh ones who got tetanus shots and rabies shots--the latter still a series but no longer in the stomach--and who closed the bites and gashes on our arms with Krazy glue--not the medical grade, but the kind you find at hardware stores--instead of going to the ER for stitches where we would have had to report the dog, who would then be put to death.

or

They knew us as the ones who argued the names assigned at Intake, saying, "Who will adopt a dog named Nixon?" And when Nixon's name was changed--changed to Dahmer--we raggedon them again, then just let it go when the final name assigned was O.G., Original Gangster. There was always a "Baby" on one of the wards so the staff could write on the kennel card, "No one puts Baby in the corner," and they finally stopped using "Precious" after a senior kennel worker said of a noble, aged Rottie, "I fucking hate this name, but this is a good dog."

These are examples of the writing to be found within the story. Hempel is very straightforward with her writing, allowing her narrator to assume what it was that the dogs in the shelter would notice of her and  her working partner, based essentially on everything that she did and thought while working. Putting her own feelings and efforts into the thoughts of these dogs.

I found it to be an oddly strong story in how I was pulled from sentence to sentence and paragraph to paragraph--I couldn't stop myself if I had wanted to, but there wasn't some huge plot point dragging me forward, or any big character-development. There was something in the language and the way of allowing those other charcters to define the narrator, even though with her own voice, that kept my attention and interest.

And a quick side note--as one fascinated by Richard M. Nixon (I attribute this to a--he was fucking fascinating and b--he was probably on the television screen more than anybody the years I was three through six {1969-1972}), I actually did have a dog named Nixon--we found out he had been born the night Nixon died--how the hell could we NOT name him Nixon?

National Short Story Month - A Vacation on the Island of Ex-Boyfriends by Stacy Bierlein

The title story from Stacy Bierlein's A Vacation on the Island of Ex-Boyfriends starts:

In three days we have played, cried, ran, fought, laughed, danced, and built fires with them all--every man we've ever wanted. We're exhausted.

The two women the story is about get sidetracked on their way to Nantucket and end up on an island where each of their entire  list of former boyfriends is lined up along the beach. It's a fantastic scenario and Bierlein plays it out interestingly right on through to the end. Anna, the narrator, goes through her list chronologically, though is surprised by the inclusion of Michael--a man she had a one-night stand with--he was told by the person on the Ferry that brought eveybody to this special island that they'd apparently had an emotional connection.

Bierlein does a nice and subtle job of differentiating the two women and their personalities by describing the actions of their respective boyfriends on the islands--Anna's seem quiet and pretty introspective while Tammi's are louder, engaging with each other, and still trying to curry favor with each other.

The ending, having to do with Michael and Anna has Bierlein commenting, again with great nuance, about how both men and women view relationships, as well as how they communicate.

A full review of the entire collection is forthcoming here at the EWN--the half I've finished so far though has been great reading.