The Rituals of Writing – Plus a Monkey Wrench or Two

Many many thanks for your patience, gentle readers, and thanks to those of you who got in touch to see if we were okay. Yes. Better than okay because Fall or Fly: The Strangely Hopeful Story of Adoptions and Foster Care in Coalfields Appalachia has gone to the publisher on time.

We all know writing comes with a few rituals. Some people work in specific locations, others have lucky editing pens, or writing clothes. Me, I get sick as soon as the book is in. That’s how it goes. The relentless rush to the last deadline, followed by five days of lying catatonic in bed, staring at Scandal on Netflix. (How many ways are there to murder someone without getting caught in DC? Don’t answer that.)

So I pushed send on Monday, and then lay down in a stupor. But the two weeks prior to that, I had been doing nothing but type and crochet for so long, my right hand went numb. When I got on the Crochet Addict Black Sheep list (this is for people who have been kicked off Crochet Addict, a thing that is not hard to accomplish) they gave spot-on advice naming the actual muscles that needed attention by number. I went up to see the amazing TNB, aka Brandon Tester, chiropractor to cat rescuers everywhere (his wife is the local vet) with the recommendations, and he went down the list and made everything okay again.

But he did suggest, given the frenzied typing, that I cool it with the crochet for a bit, saving the muscles. For which I apologize to those waiting for their braided scarves. My crojo (mojo for crochets, ya know) is back and all orders will get filled by St. Paddy’s Day. My hand is in order, my book is in, my life is my own again, and my threads are running true.

So thank you for being patient – about the disappearance of this blog, and the crocheted stuff. And for continuing to be patient about Fall or Fly. It is in the Spring 2017 publication list from Swallow Press. I’ll be getting final edits back in May, and another month of ducking and diving will follow, and then this book full of shadows and light will be ready to roll.

It’s such a different book from Little Bookstore. And yet it’s a community story. I’m looking forward to its telling. A couple of the readers have suggested I will be getting it in the neck, because there aren’t a lot of punches pulled in it. But there it is. My hand didn’t go numb for nothing.

Meanwhile, back to the threads of a different life, and onward toward Spring of this year, with its many promises. Including snow tonight, in the Gap. Stay warm, neighbors.

(For those interested, this is the photo that got me kicked off Crochet Addict into the arms of the Black Sheep.)

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The Monday Book: Dear Committee Members by Julie Schumacher

dear-committee-membersWarning: Do not drink liquids while reading this book. Laughter makes this dangerous.

Schumacher’s novel is written in the form of letters from a beleaguered professor of English to a cast of thousands. Normally I don’t care for epistle fiction–too cut into bitty pieces–but this one has a narrative arc! And (spoiler alert) a poignant ending. I laughed until I cried.

The attention to detail in these funny, zippy, ripped-from-reality letters is so perfect. I loved the subtleties of how the prof (Jason Fitger) signs each letter, the understated sarcasm interspersed with blow-ups so honest no one in real life has ever done them–but we’ve all fantasized. Oh, how we’ve fantasized.

Among other places, Jason writes letters to assorted entry level places his students will go to work–funny in itself if you were an English major. Food service. Retail. Computer places.

My favorite was his letter for a girl who’d received an F for plagiarism. I’m not quoting it here, because you have to read it in context. But I taught that girl he describes so perfectly – five or six times, under different names in different years. Schumacher’s depiction is flawless.

Here instead is a letter in its entirety:

“October 16, 2009 Avengers Paintball, Inc. 1778 Industrial Blvd. Lakeville, MN 55044 Esteemed Avengers, This letter recommends Mr. Allen Trent for a position at your paintball emporium. Mr. Trent received a C– in my expository writing class last spring, which—given my newly streamlined and increasingly generous grading criteria—is quite the accomplishment. His final project consisted of a ten-page autobiographical essay on the topic of his own rageful impulses and his (often futile) attempts to control them. He cited his dentist and his roommate as primary sources. Consider this missive a testament to Mr. Trent’s preparedness for the work your place of business undoubtedly has in store. Hoping to maintain a distance of at least one hundred yards, Jason T. Fitger Professor of Creative Writing and English Payne University (“Teach ’til It Hurts”)”

Now go read the book. If you’re not in Academia, it’s still funny. If you are, it’s funnier than life. And good therapy.

 

 

Dear Committee Members