Numbers

I know my blog is mind-numbingly boring. But it keeps me honest. Thanks for indulging me.
Tuesday's numbers: 1,772
I also wrote 274 words last night. Just a minute of inspiration.
I'm including last night's in today's total of: 2,046
bringing my grand total to: 10,648

Scorpion's Tail and I are going to exchange manuscripts in August. I want to have at least 60,000 words by then. I'm going to include the first chapter, which is a story I wrote last summer, and the chapters I've already started that I'm going to finish this summer. So I should have the 60,000 words by the end of June. I hope.
Thanks for keeping me honest.

Writing Stats

First I want to thank you all for your encouragement. I feel like I have made some sort of contract with all of you, so I want to thank you (in advance) for nagging me if I seem to flag in the production department.
So here's my update:
I didn't write on Friday because it was graduation. I thought I would catch up on Saturday, but we took Gus for a walk in the canyon and then went to a retirement BBQ. Sunday was Mothers' Day of course, so I didn't write because of many things.
But today I finished my chapter for last week. Today I wrote 598 words to finish the "Linda" chapter. Final stats on Linda: 7,653 words, 25 pages!
Then I wrote 949 words on the "Patrick" chapter. I had started this chapter before, so I already had 6-ish pages. I got onto page 10 today.
So for today: 1,547 words.
Now I have to go help out at the Bookfair at Son's school.
(I also ran for 38 minutes and 45 seconds this morning.)
I think if I started writing earlier (i.e. before 11 a.m.) I might get more done. So I'll work on that. I'm thinking of using the word count for NaNoWriMo, but counting only weekdays as writing days. I may start that tomorrow. I'll let you know.
I have to up my word count every day this week, because this weekend I am taking Son and Friend on the class camping trip. Should be fun and/or insane. Or both.
Thanks again, readers. I count on you for encouragement and pressure.

Day Four

Word count: 1,871
Must now go swim. Need exercise. Feel crazy.
I think everything I am writing/have written this week is pure crap. But I'm doing it. I hope that as I go along, the writing gets better.
At least it's not pure gibberish. I think.

Day Three: Redemption!

You have to love a summer writing plan that delivers damnation, but swiftly followed by redemption. And at such a low price!
I managed to redeem myself by escaping to the neighborhood public library and putting in my requiste words, before dashing home to pick up Son and Friend, then pick up Friend 2 and drive them all to school and put in my 3 hours of co-oping.
Then I dashed home, gave son a snack, drove him to soccer practice, watched as he practiced, dashed home, showered and attended the "Evening of Honor." It wasn't as bad as it sounds. There was an open bar. Unheard of! I attended the EOH because I'm giving a faculty lecture next year. I got to stand up for about five seconds while everyone applauded and smiled at me. I smiled back. It seemed okay.

(As a brief aside: I mentioned in my list of addictions "saying I will do things that I'm not sure I can actually do." Since we have passed the 27th, my deadline, I will tell you now that I did actually do it. And "it" was write a magazine article about an urban horseshoer. It was quite short, 1,500 words, but it was fun. I got to go talk to a horseshoer, and watch him shoe, and talk to some young girls. Quite entertaining. And I actually met the deadline and wrote the article. So I'm happy about that. And, barring any unforeseen circumstances, it will be published in a glossy magazine sold in airports. So. I'll let you know when that will happen. The most money I've made on one piece of writing. Or will make.)

Weekly word count: 4,508
today's word count: 1,916

Day Two: The Devil and Dr. Write

Day Two was less of a success. We took Son and Friend to get comic books. We stopped for coffee. Then we did go to the lovely library to "work" (word count: 927). We went out to lunch. We browsed at the bookstore (and ran into Signifying Nothing).
The Devil (aka Middlebrow) decided to buy wine. I will admit that I was the one who insisted on watching "American Idol." (It was Barry Gibb night. Come on!). But then the whole evening was a downhill slide into debauchery and media stimulation.
On the up side, we finished season five of "The Sopranos," so we are out from under that addiction, if only temporarily.
We also watched "Children of Men," which was intriguing and disappointing at the same time. And depressing. If that's the future, then we are going to start planning for our Quietus packs right now. Plus what film so under uses Julianne Moore? I mean really.
But now it's day three. Time to play catch up.

Let the Summer Writing Begin

Today was offically the first day of Summer Writing, wherein Dr. Write gets the mornings (until noon, I suppose) and Middlebrow the afternoons (when do they end? Unknown). The bonus is that Son is still in school until the end of the month. So Monday through Thursday we both get afternoons.
I have signed Son up for an ungodly amount of camps: language camp, swimming lessons, bug camp and weather camp. And that's just June!
I am hoping that I can finish a draft of my second novel. (the first, of course, remains fragmentary and incomplete)
In July we will travel to Washington state for some vacation. But we have vowed not to let some ideal of a "balanced life" interfere with writing. Meaning: no good intentions in regards to camping, gardening, socializing. Maybe some hiking. That's as far as we'll go.
So, my goal is a chapter (25 pages) a week. That means five pages a day, with weekends to catch up if I fall behind. I hope I can keep it up!!
Today: word count 1,665. So far, so good.

Cupcake Convergence

In a weird convergence of space, time, and hunger, cupcakes have over taken a larger than expected portion of my brain.
See, when I was on the dreaded elimination diet, I went to see my mom for Spring Break. While there, we had a dinner with her friend, who brought over a crazy assortment of cupcakes I couldn't eat. There were Oreo cupcakes, German Chocolate cupcakes, Ding-Dong cupcakes, cherry filled cupcakes, carrot cupcakes, etc. Anyway, the whole experience left me with an insatiable desire for cupcakes.
Yesterday, when Assertively Unhip was over we began to discuss cupcakes, and she informed of where in town I could get the best cupcake ever.
Today, I went there with Son. We got one of each kind they had, to wit:

1. New York: Valrhona Chocolate (cupcake and icing)
2. Madagascar: Vanilla cupcake with vanilla cream cheese icing, dipped in white chocolate sprinkles
3. Paris: Chocolate cupcake with raspberry butter cream frosting
4. Vienna: Chocolate cupcake with apricot butter cream frosting

Also, I had the best decaf americano I've had in years. Years! I ate the Madagascar (a mini) while I was waiting for my coffee. Middlebrow had a New York when I returned home and he confirmed AU's assessment of "best cupcake." I'm saving my New York for tomorrow. We have to pace ourselves people.

To confirm the cupcake convergence, two pieces of evidence: this blog post by Suzi Q. And I remembered the video "Lazy Sunday" which shows the Magnolia Bakery, also shown in Suzi's photo. So I'm not the only one who is cupcake crazy!!

Memo from Course Assessment

As some of you know, I (and some of you!) was lucky enough to participate in a course assessment in the past few days. Yes, it stretched out longer than expected with some of us bringing papers home to finish up. (But not until we'd self-medicated with vodka, watched some TV, slept a little, etc).
Here are some highlights from student prose that remind me of why teaching is often an (unintentionally) funny business.

• "Throughout time, students have always brought guns to school"
• "As I was in a situation where a drunken man holding a butterfly knife began to be irritated and angry"
• "all of which makes a paper sound like a symphony"
• "somewhat glib goes by many different names"
• "I would like to end here so that you may reflect"

I also learned that I should keep my big mouth shut and just nod and agree (I've learned this several times, but it hasn't taken yet!).

Also: I don't like reading student papers. Also: the smell of magic marker lingers on the papers and gives me a huge f*ing headache. I would like to convey more lessons I gleaned from this experience, but that may take some more vodka.

I will end here, so that you may reflect.

Not Funny

Am I the only person on the planet who didn't find Borat funny?
We started watching it last night. I didn't find anything about the opening village scene funny. The only funny thing in the first fifteen minutes was the chicken getting out of his suitcase on the subway. And the fact that most Americans threatened him with violence. That seemed like an insight into Ameircan culture.
But the rest of it was just stupid. "Let's make fun of retarded people! And Jews! And women!" Haven't heard that since, when, seventh grade?
I appreciate complex humor. Even simplistic humor done well. But this wasn't any of that.
So we turned it off (and returned it, promptly, to Netflix), and watched some TV. It's depressing. The success of "Borat" and the general stupidity of the evening news does not give me hope for the future of the American people.

We're Almost There....Where?

We can now see the light at the end of the tunnel. Is it an on-coming train? The happy light of the ever after?
It might, possibly, be the sun. Or maybe a funnel cloud of love and illumination. Or maybe it might just be the sneaking suspicion that all of humanity is not devoid of intelligent thought and compound-complex sentence structures. Maybe it's something like optimism.
Maybe it's an hallucinatory image of ourselves sitting in the cozy breakfast nook writing something that came out of our very own heads. Something we made up. Something strange and familiar. Something that makes us smile with its unpredictability. Something that scares us with its fierce insistence to be written.
Sigh.
Maybe it's just an idea. That would be novel.

Addictions

I'm addicted to the following things, in no particular order:

• Potato chips (specifically: salt & vinegar, thai spice)
• Chips and Salsa
• Avocados
• Thai Food
• American Idol (we will now celebrate the departure of Sanjaya. Yeah!!)
• Chocolate (dark)
• Red Wine
• Crossword puzzles/sudoku (alternately)
• Listening to music late at night on my iPod when I should be sleeping
• Procrastination
• Girl Scout Thin Mint Cookies (in season)
• Rice
• Smoothies
• TV Shows that are in danger of being cancelled or that networks just stop showing (Love Monkey, Studio 60, Men in Trees)
• All of your blogs (you know who you are!!)
• Gossip (my new fave: Jake & Reese!)
• Imagining myself in really sexy outfits when I'm wearing khakis and tennis shoes (my uniform)
• Counter-transference
• Talking about stuff I really don't know about (Judith Butler?)
• Talking about all the stuff I'm working on when I'm really not doing anything
• Rewarding myself when I feel bad by eating bad stuff (see Potato Chips)
• End of the semester pep talks from self and MB ("It's all good! It's almost over!! Good job!!")
• Imagining dancing while listening to Shakira
• Protein
• Cookies
• Hugs from Son
• Sunshine
• Days with no school
• Saying I will do things that I'm not sure I can actually do (more on this after the 27th)
• Lists

Danger

In light of the shootings at Virginia Tech, I feel it is appropriate to reopen the question of guns in the classroom, something we've been discussing in our fair state for, oh, ever. But not only that. Not only guns on campus, because, as gun rights advocates state, even if we have rules, people will break them. But guns in general.
When I was on a ferry once from England to Ireland a nice man asked me "Why do Americans love guns so much?" What could I say? I'm an American. I don't love guns. He referred to a deadly school shooting in Scotland and said that less than a month afterwards it was more difficult to get a gun in Scotland. "Why doesn't America do that?" he asked. Why indeed.
But I've gotten off track. I meant to say that, as a teacher, I don't want to be afraid that a student who got a bad grade will hunt me down. I don't want to be afraid that a student will come in and threaten me with a gun. I don't want to be afraid that the classroom will not be a place for the free and open exchange of sometimes unpopular ideas because students are afraid that a peer might not agree and bring a gun.
As a parent, I'm afraid that my son will encounter a bully with a gun, or anyone with a gun, at his school. Probably not at the school he attends now, but he can't go there forever.
Even more, as an American, I'm sick of having to turn the channel when an ad for a violent TV show or movie comes on when I'm watching TV at 7 pm with my son. I'm sick of our culture that thinks killing and violence is entertaining. I'm sick of watching PG-13 movies that treat violence as an everyday occurrence that we should not react to with outrage and horror.
Show a nipple and you get an X rating. Show hundreds of people being murdered by machine gun fire, PG-13. (I don't know this for a fact, but based on my own movie viewing, this seems to be true).
What I'm really sick of is turning on the radio and hearing that someone, any one, the number does not matter, has been killed by another lunatic with a gun. I'm tired of gun rhetoric. I don't feel like I need a gun, and I sure as hell don't think anyone should be able to buy one at their local big box retailer.
I'm sick of lines like "guns don't kill people, people kill people." Sorry. A person without a gun is just an angry person. An angry person with a gun can kill someone. I can deal with an angry student. I do it more often than I'd like. An angry student with a gun is, unfortunately, sometimes a murderer.
My thoughts are with the survivors in Virginia. My thoughts can't do a lot. How about a law?

So It Goes

Kurt Vonnegut has died.
Here is where I would say something profound and beautiful about the myriad ways in which he shaped my aesthetic and helped me to become the writer and person I am today.
Let me just say that I read Slaughterhouse Five because my father told me that I should read every book that had ever been banned. I started with Slaughterhouse Five and I became addicted to Vonnegut. So I worked my way through many Vonnegut novels. I learned from him that a book can be funny and make a bold political statement. That it can be imaginative in the largest sense of the word and can say something huge about the way we live.
I think for me this is the first time I have confronted the death of one of my literary heroes. I definitely would not be a writer today if I had never read Slaughterhouse Five. Or Cats' Cradle. Or "Welcome to the Monkey House." My favorite for a while was a sappy little story called "A Long Walk to Forever." It is sappy, but kind of sweet.
Vonnegut is dead. Long live Vonnegut!

When the Goose is Away

I know that's not the phrase, but it's apt. This weekend while Middlebrow was pursuing his Tallness Studies, I bonded with the wee one. We played Sorry (he wins every time!), read a few chapters of The Incredible Journey, played baseball in the backyard, and let Gus tug us along for a walk.
I watched a girly movie, "The Holiday," which I actually liked for many reasons.

1. Cameron Diaz: despite myself, I'm starting to actually like her; see "In Her Shoes."
2. Jude Law: dimples. No explanation needed.
3. Kate Winslet: already liked her. still like her.
4. Jack Black: not overly jokey, for once. Great!
5. Adorable sub-plots: kids, old men.
6. Amanda (Diaz) makes movie trailers for a living. Sometimes she hears movie trailers for her own life in her head. Complete with the movie trailer voice guy. These were some of my favorite surprising moments. I want someone to make a movie trailer for my life!
7. Heart: Lately I just want a movie with heart. Some emotion. Down with irony and cynicism! I want my romantic comedies to be romantic and funny with happy endings.

I also managed to drink a little too much red wine (oops!) and stay up late listening to Justin Timberlake and Shakira (and the Dixie Chicks and Cheryl Crow) on my iPod while doing (actually, messing up) Sodoku.

I also discovered I make a terrible single mother because I forgot to do the Easter Bunny shopping and had to have a friend do it for me. Easter was made more fun by my mid-afternoon nap which made me late picking up Middlebrow from the airport. Luckily, in the spirit of Easter, he was forgiving.

Made the basic potatoes-lamb chops-green bean Easter dinner. All in all it was a fun weekend. Did I mention the bottle of pre-made Margaritas? No? Well, those were good too. And the first meeting of my uber-writing group. All good.

Now it's the mad dash/sprint/grading marathon to the finish line.

Alanis Morissette "My Humps"

I actually like the Blackeyed Peas version of this song (good for running), but hearing Alanis sing it makes you realize (once again) how ridiculous the lyrics are.
It's hilarious! Must watch!

Not Another Spring Sonnet

Inspired by the contest over at Prarie Home Companion, I decided to write a non-spring Spring poem. Plus I still owe Hightouchmegastore about 9 poems from September. Plus it is Poetry Month and I hear tell that several poets are doing NaPoWriMo. Not me, but someone, somewhere. So here it is. And forgive my wonky lines. It's my first poem since September!

So here’s your sonnet, without daffodils,
sentiment or rain. Lacking any reference to green,
anything floral, fecund, or new. Not full
of love or harmony or peace. Do I seem
bitter? I’m not. It’s just when the pollen
comes out, I sneeze, and then I think
of all the chores still to do, chairs to haul in,
grill to put out. My husband needs to fix the sink.
Also, my perennial failure to maintain a garden.
But too, I’m glad. For one thing, this year
I vowed to give up on a lush yard. In
winter it’s easy to do. But I’ll renege, I fear.
Because, once again, I love every growing thing.
Despite myself, in spring I love the spring.

So Long, Frank Lloyd Wright

I've had that song in my head ever since I got back from Spring Break, where I visited Taliesin West, Frank Lloyd Wright's haven in the desert. The development in Scottsdale is so insane that it almost reaches out to the site. But when he bought the land (in 1937) there was no running water, no electricity, no road. He's spinning in his grave!
But the place was gorgeous, and the structures amazing. FLW was way before his time. He would be happy now, with the developments in environmental architecture and what not. But I had a good time. My father and I went on the "Behind the Scenes" tour, which included a snack inside the dining room, and several talks by intimates of FLW. What sticks with me is that FLW said that "architecture is frozen music" (actually I think someone else said it and he was just fond of it) and that architectural fellows used to be asked to bring a musical instrument and a formal outfit. Every once in a while they had big dinners and the fellows provided all the entertainment. That was back in the day when people were well-rounded. Now we just want to be good at one thing.
I'm in a bit of architecture obsession. I'm reading Devil in the White City, which Frank Lloyd Wright appears in, however briefly. The book has a lot of architecture big wigs in it (Olmstead, Sullivan), which I didn't know. Of course it makes sense, but I wasn't aware before I started reading it. The book combines two of my major obsessions: architecture and crime.
My obsession with architecture really has to do with an essay project I'm researching, but not really working on yet. It's called First Person Spaces, and it connects to the stuff I've done before, but I want to do a more sustained project, maybe linked stories and at least one essay.
I appreciate all the comments (two) about my blog silence. I've been busy and tired. Doing what, you might ask. Who knows? So far I know I'm not allergic to wheat, corn or tomatoes. I'm not allergic to decaf coffee. I've snuck in some beer and wine. I also ate three vegan cookies at a potluck and I didn't die. So I guess I'm okay. Slated for this week: oats, yeast, and maybe butter. I'll let you know. I have two boxes of Girl Scout Cookies in the freezer that call to me incessantly. The prognosis is not good.
On the up side, I did run a few times and I'm sore! I've also done yoga. Also sore.
I love you all, my pretties.

We're Baaack!

Why is going back to school after Spring Break so hard? Is it the numerous margaritas you drank? Is the whole week of structureless fun? Is it the fact that it's dark at 6:30 in the morning? Is it the dog's ceaseless hacking?
Or is the fact that so few students show up you wonder if you are in the wrong room/school/life?

It is probably all of the above. For a minute I thought we only had four weeks left. No. Not true. We have six weeks left. How can that be?

I will post some Spring Break pictures later. They will include Frank Lloyd Wright buildings, children who don't care at a baseball game (only 99 degrees!), and my mom's backyard.

I did do a lot of crossword puzzles, read one book (The Last American Man), watched Idol (I don't even want to talk about it!), saw one movie (Dreamgirls, two thumbs up!), and, as previously mentioned, drank more than one margarita. And I'm doing okay on my bracket. My alma mater is still in it (Go Ducks!!).

Why I Loved AWP: a list

1. Intellectual Stimulation: In my day to day life I often forget that I did love graduate school and why. I was surrounded by people who were reading and thinking, and most importantly, talking about what they were reading and thinking about. I was one of those people. I used to read more and think a lot. In my regular life, I am most preoccupied with what is for dinner, how I am going to get to work out, and feeling guilty about not writing. Being at AWP reminded me of the best parts of graduate school. Talking and thinking. And drinking of course.
2. Friends: In my day to day life, I see Middlebrow and Son. If I'm lucky, I see one of my colleagues. Maybe once a month I see someone else or do something social. Maybe. AWP is like my whole life packed into one weekend. I got to hang out with Hightouchmegastore, I got to see lots of friends from graduate school, I got to see a friend from Chicago, I got to see friends from my town that I never see in town. Why do I never see my friends in town? Well. I'm glad I got to see all of these people and more at AWP.
3. Rock Star Writers: I got to see writers who are, in my mind, rock stars. These include: Michael Martone, David Kirby, Walter Moseley, David Shields. (I feel like I should list some women, but I didn't really see any. Who would qualify in this respect? Maybe Brenda Hillman. Anne Carson, definitely.)
4. Being Not-Me: I got to pretend I was someone other than the boring, normal person I am. I wore red pumps (but only in the hotel where I wouldn't have to walk too much). I hugged a person I'd never met before (okay, I might have been a little drunk). I accidently networked. I pretended I was a mover and a shaker. I was, for a few brief days, a mover and a shaker.
5. Free Drinks (self-explanatory)
6. Readings: mostly good.
7. Accidental encounters with beloved people: mostly Peter Covino. But also Terrible Mother. And David Hamilton. And friends from grad school. And Janet Holmes and Alvin Greenburg.
8. Seeing nice publishers who remember my essay (Ninth Letter).
9. Seeing Ralph Berry from FC2, and maybe reminding him of how great I am (accidently).
10. The Book Fair: By the last day, I can't stand it, but in general it's where you run into the people you want to see but can't find and where you find all kinds of things you can't live without and must buy. High Touch was better on this score, buying all kinds of small press cool things. I tried to restrain myself and bought only 4 books. I consider it a small victory.

Home from AWP

I made it home, exhausted, and perhaps a little worse for wear. I was a bit ill when I left for Atlanta, and the fun, excitement, not to mention the rain, probably did me no good. But what the hell! It was fun!
The highlight of the trip, as it always is, was the dinner with Utah friends, some of whom do not live in Utah anymore, and one of whom never did, save the week of Writers at Work. We cabbed from the Hilton to Fuego, where we enjoyed Sangria, $1 tapas and regular sized/priced tapas (~$6). The food was great. Hard to say what was best, but the mussells were good, as was the pork tenderloin with sweet potato mash. And the tuna. And the grilled asparagus. And the wine. Very good. All of it.
Then we decided to walk the two miles back to the hotel, and we got to see a bit of Atlanta. We stopped on the way at a wine bar Felicia had seen earlier that day, Eno. We sat at the bar and shared a bottle of wine. It was a fun outing, including having a kind stranger pull Felicia's pump out of a grate on Peachtree Street. Good stuff.
We returned to the hotel, surfed the receptions, where we had our share of free beverages, then went to the Michael Martone & John Barth reading. I didn't talk to either of them, but it was a good reading.
Other high points: Meeting David Kirby at the bookfair and telling him I used his poem in my theory class. The real high point of that was when he thanked us "for our adjectives" and told Hightouchmegastore as we were parting, "Email me!"
Attending the FC2 reception, which turned into a tribute to Ralph Berry, who is stepping down as publisher. I met Lance Olsen and talked to him for awhile. I also got to chat briefly with Michael Martone, and thanked him for sending me his book, Seeing Eye.
I ran into numerous other people, known and unknown. I saw David Hamilton, who may be the sweetest person ever. I got to see former professors and current friends.
The best panel I attended was on structure and included a handout of "The Things They Carried" by Samantha Chang. Michael Martone did an amazing collage essay on "In the Heart of the Heart of the Country." The whole panel was really brilliant, and will be helpful to me, I think, in my writing and my teaching.
I also got to see Steve Fellner and bought his book, Blind Date with Cavafy . It's so amazing, sweet and funny and sad, and I'm so happy he found a publisher. It gives me a little hope. It's a great book, and he deserves to get more attention for his writing.
Regrets: because of my illness I did not get to run in Atlanta. I also didn't get to use the pool, because it was a little too cold. Also, I only got to see Terrible Mother once. I think my lack of a cell phone is really hurting my social life. It may be time to get a cell phone.
And then Middlebrow got a dog while I was gone. For more info on that, see his blog. For pics of the trip, etc., you can click on my Flickr badge.
I'm glad to be home.