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Call & Response: This Thing I’m Doing With People I Know

Come January, I’ll be taking part in a sort of high-minded thumbwrestling match between visual art and the textual kind called Call & Response, which is being curated by PIKs Kira Wisniewski and William Bert. It works like this: a bunch of writers write some things, and a bunch of visual artists create work in response to the things the writers wrote.

I’m matched with Duct-tape ninja Bryan Rojsuontikul, who’s a fellow at the Hamiltonian Gallery in Northwest DC, where this thing will be held from January 10 - Feb 13. Aside from me, the roster of writers/artists is unstoppably brainshaking: Matt Klam, Sean Carman, Tati Suarez, Joe Hall, Leah Frankel, Danika Stegeman, Mike Dax, Jen Girdish, Gerald Maa, Eleanor Graves and many many others.

11/20 UPDATE: you can follow Call & Response on Twitter here.

No Fightpicking. Just a Question.

Earlier this month Dinty W. Moore, editor of the micro-essay blog Brevity and all-around nonfiction guy published in the Mississippi Review a piece entitled “Self-Critique”, which he believes to be the shortest essay ever. Here it is:

I have a tendency towards glibness.

Now: I’m not trying to pick a fight with Dinty Moore here. I was in one of his workshops at the 412 Festival a few years ago and found him funny, pleasant, truly helpful, and I’ve enjoyed much of what I have read of his work. But can someone please explain to me, in sober, clear, and intelligent terms, what makes “I have a tendency towards glibness” an “essay”?

I’m not nay-saying or shit-talking. I just need someone to answer this question for me. I have done a few of these things myself, but I’m certainly no aficionado. And I’m aware of the trend of micro-lit out there right now, and generally enjoy it, if only because it highlights basic structures/values of the form it chooses, regardless of how short; sort of a celebration of what the form can do without much text-adornment, which is always fun. SMITH’s Six Word Memoir Contest–inspired by the Hemingway story “For sale: baby shoes, never worn”, which is undoubtedly a fully-realized piece of narrative, matching many well-known traits of short fiction (character, conflict, etc.)–traffics in this territory very successfully. “Memoir” for their purposes seems to be “that which is remembered,” like: “Canoe guide, only got lost once.”  and “Birth, childhood, adolescence, adolescence, adolescence, adolescence . . .”; and the SMITH memoirs sometimes tend to take on the form of personal narratives that have more in common with fiction, as memoir often does, such as Justin Taylor’s “Former child star seeks love, employment.” (I stole examples from here).

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In Memoriam of Two Tragedies, One Obviously More Pervasive and Devastating Than The Other.

From the late David Foster Wallace’s “The View From Mrs. Thompson’s” which remains, to date, the most accurate and nuanced depiction I’ve ever read of the fugue state of darkness that we were all forced into eight years ago:

The Yellow Pages have nothing under Flag. There’s actual interior tension: Nobody walks by or stops their car and says, “Hey, your house doesn’t have a flag,” but it gets easier and easier to imagine people thinking it. None of the grocery stores in town turn out to stock any flags. The novelty shop downtown has nothing but Halloween stuff. Only a few businesses are open, but even the closed ones are displaying some sort of flag. It’s almost surreal. The VFW hall is a good bet, but it can’t open til noon if at all (it has a bar). The lady at Burwell’s references a certain hideous Qik-n-EZ store out by 1-74 at which she was under the impression she’d seen some little plastic flags back in the racks with all the bandannas and Nascar caps, but by the time I get there they turn out to be gone, snapped up by parties unknown. The reality is that there is not a flag to be had in this town. Stealing one out of somebody’s yard is clearly out of the question. I’m standing in a Qik-n-EZ afraid to go home. All those people dead, and I’m sent to the edge by a plastic flag. It doesn’t get really bad until people ask if I’m OK and I have to lie and say it’s a Benadryl reaction (which in fact can happen)…. Until in one more of the Horror’s weird twists of fate and circumstance it’s the Qik-n-EZ proprietor himself (a Pakistani, by the way) who offers solace and a shoulder and a strange kind of unspoken understanding, and who lets me go back and sit in the stock room amid every conceivable petty vice and indulgence America has to offer and compose myself, and who only slightly later, over styrofoam cups of a strange kind of tea with a great deal of milk in it, suggests, gently, construction paper and “Magical Markers,” which explains my now-beloved homemade flag.

Also worth reading: John Hodgman’s “Welcoming Remarks Made at a Literary Reading, 9/25/01

Adios, DC (For a Little While) + Hello, PA + PIK News


View Bucknell is 3 Hours from Everywhere in a larger map

Tomorrow morning I drive up to Lewisburg, PA for “four months of unfettered writing time” that I have been very much looking forward to since I found out about it in May.

The *plan* is to be as scarce as possible as I try to put the finishing touches on a large project that probably should have been finished a while ago, and it seems Lewisburg is the right place for that kind of thing. Bucknell is–quite literally–at least 3 hours from any place I have any meaningful connection to (see map). I’ve also instituted an embargo on useless, time-burgling web ephemera, which means that my year old Facebook account was sent to a much-deserved grave earlier today. Of course that means that I won’t be updating this site very often, which I rarely update anyway, so to the people who actually still read this thing–topped out at 40 whole hits in recent weeks–get used to more of the same.

But before I leave, here’s some ware-peddling for people I know:

Jennine Crucet’s book, How to Leave Hialeah, has come out, and was named recently by Curtis Sittenfeld as a “favorite book.” Check out the most recent issue of Storyglossia for a sample of the goods. Also, please do the same for PIK Kara Candito, whose Parie Schooner Book Prize-winning Taste of Cherry is also out, and excellent. Samples of Kara’s work can be found, among other impressive places, at Ink Node.

And speaking of Ink Node, very excited to hear that the journal’s founder, PIK Brian Christian, has inked a deal with Doubleday to write a book where Brian will “‘train’ for the 2009 Loebner Prize, an annual competition [...] that aims to instantiate the Turing Test by asking judges to interact with a set of human beings and computers and then deduce which is which.” I’m imagining the whole exercise will be a Zen & the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance for the A.I. set, which I cannot even begin to articulate my excitement about. Go to Web Conjuctions and read Brian’s essay on “lag”–which references Dharma & Greg/Roland Barthes/necker cubes–to get a sense of what’s coming.

OK. Off to PA. More soon. Maybe.

OK, Look. I am Just Posting This, With Little to No Editorializing.

PIK Ryan Call (via HTMLGIANT) and my Lewisburg predecessor have been covering the recent emergence of Abramson Leslie Consulting, “the first-ever consulting firm designed exclusively for applicants to Master of Arts (M.A.), Master of Fine Arts (M.F.A.), and doctorate (Ph.D.) in Creative Writing Programs.”

Here is a snippet of Ryan’s post at HTMLGIANT:

[...] due to some “legal issues,” whatever those were, Fellner decided to delete his criticism of ALC; fortunately, this was an ineffective, though no less meaningful act, as the post is still widely available online (not Fellner’s fault). Thanks to Google, you may read Fellner’s post, titled “Why a Creative Writing ‘Firm’ May be the Most Unethical Entity in the Literary Community At Large,” either as a page in Google’s cache or in your Google Reader (simply follow Fellner’s blog, Pansy Poetics, and the post will show up in the feed). Here’s a tidbit from Fellner’s post, in which he questions the firm’s basic concept:

Or am I reading this “under construction” website wrong? Am I supposed to read this as a parody? As a satire of the idea that one should ethically manipulate their art to receive possible help from other poets and fiction writers? Is the firm also broadly mocking Kaplan Education Centers? Where students pay a tidy fee to improve their test scores? Where test scores are considered to be the measure of excellence? Is the firm ridiculing the inherent nature of MFA programs? That within colleges, institutions that offer grades, art is something that be measured and assessed with perfunctory, mechanical accuracy?

Look: other than a curiosity about the distinct lack of “creative nonfiction” consulting services offered by Abramson Leslie (perhaps we all know how to get into MFA and PhD programs all by ourselves?) I categorically have no public opinion on these matters.

If you do, however, I encourage you to leave them, anonymously or not, either on this blog, HTMLGIANT, or in the comments section of Seth Abramson’s blog, the Suburban Ecstasies (relevant post here).

HTMLGIANT: Abramson Leslie Consulting v. Steve Fellner (link)

Lorca Lorca: Steve Fellner on Seth Abramson’s Creative Writing Firm (link)

The Suburban Ecstasies: [ALC] (link)

Abramson Leslie Consulting (link)