Books Make the Best Friends

A few days ago, I completed the arduous task of packing up my apartment and saying goodbye to the sweet spot I called home for the duration of my three year MFA program. Luckily for me, I've got a kind mother with some storage space so I had a safe place to bring my belongings. It took several trips (and there might still be some of my furniture sitting in front of my house waiting for pick-up), but I got the job done (with lots of help!).

Sadly, the first thing to go were my books. For some reason, I thought this would be the easiest place to start. 

Three years ago, I came to Tampa with a handful of books: Isabelle Allende’s House of Spirits, my favorite collection of James Joyce short stories, the essential Writing Down the Bones, and a few other favorites -- perhaps one shelf worth of books. But about halfway through my time in grad school, I had to run to the store and buy an enormous bookshelf to house my growing collection. Now, many books later, as I pulled dozens of books off the shelves, I relived the memory of acquiring and reading each one. 

Photo Credit

Some of these books were assigned reading for class, and their pages are decorated with multi-colored post-it notes and scribbles in the margins. I loved the discussions we had in class, even when I didn't love the book. With the help of my brilliant professors and classmates, we discussed the writers' choices and their storytelling strategies. In doing so, we were able to learn from their prowess and hopefully soak up some of their genius: Marion Winik’s Glen Rock Book of the Dead, Jesmyn Ward’s Men We Reaped, Roxane Gay’s An Untamed State, the life-changing Refuge by Terry Tempest Williams - to name just a few.

Other books were collected from conferences and various readings I've attended over the last few years - books of poetry, literary journalism, lyric essays, you name it. These books are in better condition than my school books, and many of them are inscribed with the author's personalized message and signature on the inside cover! I'm grateful to have shared a few words with the force of nature that is Amy Nezhukumatathil, Pulitzer prize winning Gilbert King, Joy freaking Harjo, and the sweet and fiercely tenacious poet, Naomi Shihab Nye. These are the books I can connect to the thrilling feeling of listening to a brilliant writer read and talk about their work in the flesh, and the nervous butterflies that flittered about as I waited in line to have my book signed. 

Lastly, a smattering of books were gifts from classmates and professors, hand-me-downs that were deemed right up my alley or brand spanking new books that they thought I had to have. These, too, I will keep close, because they come from fellow writers who I trust and love!

I had no idea how alone I would feel with empty bookshelves, because I underestimated the companionship that I find in my literary loves. I try my best to travel light, and I doubt that I will be able to bring them all with me on my next journey (a teaching gig in Cartagena, Colombia!) but it has been a glorious privilege to live in a house surrounded by these inspiring, curious, and courageous friends! For now, we must part, but I know that they are safe and that we will meet again someday! The lessons I learned from these stories will stay with me even when the books are far, far away.

My beloved Rumi was an avid book lover, too!

A Love Letter to the Library

It dawned on me the other day that I’ve gotten spoiled. Being a student at USF means that, not only do I have access to all of the books from any USF campus, but I also have access to any book that is part of larger library consortiums like Interlibrary Loan and UBorrow. So basically, I have access to any book I could desire—for free! And you want to know what’s the icing on the cake? As a graduate student, I can check books out of the library for SIX MONTHS! All of this in exchange for taking a few classes and writing a thesis! Yes, it’s a good deal.

I come from a long line of library-lovers. When we were little, my mother used to take my sister and me to the library several times a week to read books in the carpeted nooks and check out our favorites to bring home with us—as exciting as taking home the class pet! As I grew older, the library became my refuge, the place I could bike to and not be disturbed by my parents and annoying little sister. I always had a revolving collection of library books on my bookshelf (a habit that persists to this day), never satisfied with only taking out one book at a time.

Side note: Although I am a lover of books, I prefer not to buy any if I don’t have to—unless I’ve read it already and really, really loved it. Book lovers with a bad case of wanderlust, like me, must be conscious of the possessions they acquire, and although I rarely buy books, they somehow seem to propagate on my bookshelves while I sleep!

In college, I worked in the Frost Library as one of my on-campus student jobs. I can’t express to you how much I loved getting to work, punching in my card, grabbing a rolling cart full of freshly returned books, and taking the elevator down into the bowels of the building where I spent the next few hours in haunting quiet, reading call numbers and shelving books. Sometimes, when I found a book that piqued my interest, I’d take a seat and thumb through it for a few minutes before moving onto the next book in my cart.

My college library was named for this great American poet

Once, in my sophomore year, we broke into the library in the middle of the night and played an energetic game of capture the flag. I remember running up echoing stairwells and hiding in dusty study carrels as we tried to find our opponents flag and bring it home. I don’t remember who organized it or who won, or even if we got caught, but I do remember it being one of the most thrilling nights of my college experience.

When I travel, I always like to check out the public library. I believe that you can judge a place by their library (which says a lot about places like Miami that continuously cut library hours year after year). On my first day in Australia, I remember going to the main library in Brisbane and being duly impressed by their high tech set-up. I’ve spent time at the gorgeous library in Juneau, Alaska, a beautiful multi-storied building that sits right on the harbor so you can watch the boats pull in from the window. Ever been to the New York Public Library? So freaking majestic.

As a writer, the library is a trusted friend. Like an artist who wanders the aisles of their favorite art store, looking for supplies and inspiration, writers find their tribe amidst the pages of love-worn library books. To me, libraries are also sacred space for reflection and silence—much-needed in our world where silence is endangered. In Miami, when I needed a place to write late at night, I found that the University of Miami law library never closed not did they check IDs. In fact, I have a library card from everywhere I’ve been for longer than a few weeks: Miami, Melbourne (Australia), Amherst, Tampa, Belchertown—and hopefully this list will continue to grow.

A small sampling from my collection of beloved library cards

But it’s not only the writers who flock to the sacred space of the library. Several times a week, my father makes the trip to the iconic Coral Gables Library and bugs the librarian about an obscure book or simply reads a magazine on one of the sofa chairs. The library is a place for anyone and everyone: children, grandparents, students, the homeless, locals, itinerant travelers, and anyone in between. I think it speaks to my love and respect for libraries that anytime I’m with a child, whether a cousin or a babysitting charge, I always always always take them to the library—like my mother did with me and my sister when we were kids.

There is something special about sharing public space, and the library is one of the few places in our society where we can simply be without being consumers or producers. It’s a neutral space, which is probably why many of our polls in this election are at libraries. Libraries are also a community space—something hard to find in our highly individualistic American culture. They are meeting places, places of learning. I’ve had the good fortune of giving several writing workshops at my local library (Writing the Family History, Memoir Writing), as well as attending my fair share of classes throughout the years. In fact, I met a woman who became my dear friend, Adrienne, because we both showed up to an off-the-cuff writing class at the Coconut Grove Library on a Wednesday evening, and we haven’t stopped talking or sharing work since.

 Unfortunately, I fear that I have not been able to take advantage of my privileged library situation as much as I would have liked to during my time at USF. Taking graduate classes means that there is not much time for your own personal reading choices. Rather, I will leave graduate school with a gargantuan list of must-read books and authors that were recommended to me but I haven’t had the chance to read yet. I have started to get seriously concerned about how I will get my library fix once I graduate from USF and no longer have a working student ID and convenient access to millions of libraries across the nation! When I voice my distress to my teacher and my boyfriend, they remind me that lots of places have libraries and I need not worry.

After they calm my fears, I think of the libraries I’ve visited around the world, and my own mini collection of library cards, and I breathe a sigh of relief. This library lover may be losing her privileged grad student status soon, but the world of libraries will continue to provide me with the shelter and inspiration that every writer—and I would argue, every person—needs.

Publication update: I've got a short story at Cuba Counterpoints and a column at BUST online! Thanks so much for your support! :)

Horseback Writing: A Writer and Her Muse

Normally, college students move into a dorm with their laptop and a few bags of clothes. But not Karissa Womack. She moved to college with her horse, an Appaloosa named Willow. Karissa got Willow when she was just 13 years old, and the pair grew up together, riding out into the woods on adventures and even competing in hunter jumper shows. When Willow suffered a hoof injury, Karissa had to give up on competing. But she did not give up on Willow.

Now Willow is 18 years old and Karissa is a graduate student studying creative writing at the University of South Florida. Karissa continues to fight for Willow every day. While most graduate students spend their weekends relaxing by the pool or throwing back beers at the bar, Karissa spends any extra time she has at the barn with Willow, mucking her stall and taking care of her sensitive hooves. They still enjoy walks together in the nearby nature preserves.

Karissa and I lived together during our first year of graduate school. When I first went to the barn with her, I peered into Willow’s stall and saw all of her equipment—saddles, medicine, etc. That's when I realized how much time and money keeping Willow costs Karissa. I realized all of the sacrifices that my friend has to make in order to upkeep a pet as energy intensive as a horse. I can leave for the weekend anytime I want and leave extra food for the cat, but Karissa can’t leave town without making sure that someone’s going to take good care of Willow. She doesn't just worry about paying her own rent and groceries. She’s also got to pay Willow’s board, her feed, and her medications, not to mention general horse maintenance such as farrier bills and supplements. This is a lot more financial responsibility than most 25 year olds have to handle! But Karissa does it without complaint. She loves nothing more than driving out to the barn early Saturday morning and spending the day with her best friend, giving her the best treatment possible and going for long rides through the woods.

Recently, Willow suffered a life-threating colic--a major gastrointestinal condition--that nearly killed her. Luckily, she was able to get to the Equine Medical Center of Ocala right away where vets tended to her immediately and essentially saved her life. 

While Karissa is beyond grateful that the surgery was successful, she is now saddled with over $10,000 in debt. Her credit cards are maxed out and she’s taken out a care credit card to help with the costs, but she is still looking for donations through her GoFundMe page. Any amount helps!

Meanwhile, both Karissa and Willow look forward to the day when Willow will be back home in her barn, happy and healthy enough to go on long rides through the grassy paddocks, like the two of them used to do. 

Go Team Go: Writing as a Team Sport

This time last year, I was happily banging away on the first draft of my novel. Every evening, I delighted in sitting at my desk and writing my story. I was captivated by my characters, and frankly, enamored withfiction.

Fast forward to the present moment, and it’s way harder to arrive at my writing desk with the same amount of zeal as I did last fall. The honeymoon period is definitely over.

As you all know, I had a summer full of all kinds of adventures, very few of them having anything to do with sitting at a desk and writing a novel. Towards the end of the summer, I was complaining to a writer friend about how little progress I made on my novel. 

“My gears are creaky,” I told her. “I can’t get into it.”

It seemed liked everything I wrote was dry and forced, and I couldn’t seem to get into a groove. (I wanted my strange writing groove from last fall to magically reappear!) She was in the same position with her novel—re-working a full draft—and we decided to schedule a writing date to move forward on our respective projects. She would come to my house and we would hold each other accountable to write for several hours. And write we did, dammit.

Since that initial writing date, all of the progress that I have made on my novel has been with her in the room. Once or twice a week, she comes over with some snacks and we chat for a while before setting the timer for one hour. And every time that alarm goes off, we’re surprised by how fast the time flew by. And every time she leaves my house several hours later, neither of us can wipe the silly grins off our faces. We’re doing it. Slowly but surely, these novels are getting written. It’s taking a lot of time and elbow grease, but it’s happening.

When I told her how different my writing process was for this draft than the first one, she laughed and made a really good point.

“We’re at places in the revision process that are not the most fun,” she said.

We’re not just dreaming up characters and fun situations to put them in. We’re sweating and toiling to turn those whimsies into masterpieces. (Or at least into some kind of finished product. Whether it’s any good or not remains to be seen.)

I still love my characters, but I see how complicated crafting a compelling story actually is. You cannot simply string together a few curious incidents and call it a novel. Readers need so much more than that to connect to a story in a meaningful way.

The storyline I mapped out over the summer is in constant flux. Every time I sit down to write, my perfect plot is in danger of taking an unexpected turn. Characters act out in unpredictable ways. What I thought was the climax has shifted. Characters that I thought were minor have become major, and vice versa. Things come up that I didn’t prepare for, like hurricanes and broken arms. And then what?

The truth is, I’m dealing with a living, breathing animal with a mind of its own. For the first time, I am beginning to understand the fiction writer’s dilemma of striking the delicate balance between controlling the narrative and letting the story take the reins. It’s an amazing and beautiful and scary process.

All the confidence that I had in my novel when I first started has leaked out of my brain, which makes it hard to return to the manuscript with the same gusto I once had. But luckily, I don’t have to feel like I’m in it all by myself. Although I’ve shared work with many writers over the years, I’ve never had an active writing partnership like this one. I’ve heard of other writers who always write together, but I had never seen the value in it until now. I’m grateful for my writing partner who knows when to talk shop and when to get down to business.   

So much of writing has to be done all by our lonesome. So why not try to make it into a team activity?  It's not as if I can't write on my own, but it's just more fun this way! 

Remember! Always use the buddy system!!

Speaking of which, check out my BUST interview with my friend and client, Thelsuice Gonzalez, as we discuss the process of working on her memoir as a team. 

YEAR THREE WOE IS ME!

Lately, I’ve been joking around that my best friend is in Bali and my boyfriend’s on a sailboat in Sardinia—and here I am, stuck in school.

It wasn’t until the third or fourth time I said it that I realized how ridiculous I was being. I may not be gallivanting around Bali or the Mediterranean, but I am just as privileged as they are!

This week marks the beginning of the end—the first week of my last year in the MFA program. And it’s gotten me thinking about my dumb, beautiful luck at being “stuck” in school.

First of all, being a student, where our main purpose is to LEARN, is one of the most privileged existences available to a human. Thankfully, my mother has always made me understand the value of my education; she taught me to never take it for granted because I was one of the lucky girls on this planet who had access to something so precious. But after being in so many (great) schools all my life, I often forget my privilege, as we – the privileged – so often do.

So not only am I a STUDENT, which we’ve established is a position of great privilege, but I’m a GRADUATE STUDENT! This means I’m essentially being PAID to explore my own intellectual and creative curiosities! Unlike undergrad, which sometimes feels perfunctory because it has somehow become a prerequisite for life in America, graduate school is icing on the cake. We come here because we want to, not because we have to.

And to top it off, not only am I a GRADUATE STUDENT, but I’m an MFA STUDENT in CREATIVE WRITING. This means that I have the glorious luck of spending three unfettered years working on my own writing pursuits—and having awesome writers around who are paid to give a damn about it! (My professors.) Not to mention, I have the privilege of being surrounded by many inspiring and hard-working writers who create beautiful, artful, heart-opening stories.

So yes, woe is me, the poor MFA student…

Privilege is power, and as the saying goes, with power comes great responsibility. I am constantly asking myself - Am I’m doing enough? Could I be doing more? Could I use my time more wisely? How else could I get even more out of this experience?

It certainly wouldn’t hurt the world if we all started our day by acknowledging our privilege. Imagine all that we could accomplish if we moved forward with gratitude and appreciation for our place, our power, and our possibilities. 

Get Lit: Storytelling, Live Lit, and The Birth of First Draft

Photo Credit: Brittany Cagle

This week, I am pleased to announce another guest blogger -- my fellow MFA colleague, Jay Thompson! Over the last two years, I have been consistently blown away by Jay's energy and "go get it" spirit. She is full of great ideas, and she's the kind of person who makes anything happen! I will also say that she is the most thoughtful person in our program, never forgetting a single person's birthday and always leaving treatsies in our mailboxes. In addition, she is one of the creators of an awesome lit mag, Weirderary!

With no further ado -- Jay Thompson schools us on Live Lit!

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Given that storytelling birthed story writing, I am surprised that more writers aren’t interested in the art form. While I am no storytelling scholar, I know that the earliest recorded stories were shared orally from generation to generation before they made their way onto paper (or, originally, rock). It makes sense; before humans could write, they could talk.

Clearly, storytelling as a practice continues. Families pass down their histories by talking to their children. Employees gather on Mondays and tell the tales of their weekends. Lovers share the stories of their lives in whispers. Still, there is a difference between storytelling as day-to-day communication and storytelling as an art.

Storytelling as an art involves the use of many craft elements utilized in writing. A good story generally builds in tension that reaches a climax and has a satisfying ending. Telling it well on stage requires effort, planning, and practice. While a writer cannot choose the pace at which their reader reads a story, the storyteller has complete control over pacing, tone, voice volume, facial expressions, gestures, etc., all which add to the audience’s interpretation of the story.

Also, storytelling is dynamic while a piece of writing is largely static. Once a written story is published, it does not change. A story told aloud, however, cannot be told in the exact same way twice. This adds a “live” aspect that is not present in traditional readings. Storytelling is like standup comedy in the sense that the storyteller must practice the story over and over, in order for it to, ironically, sound natural, unstilted. At the same time, storytelling is unpredictable. The storyteller might shorten or lengthen sections of the story based on her mood that night or the reaction she is receiving from the audience.

I grew to love “live lit”—literary events that involve something beyond writers reading their work off of a page—while living in Chicago, a live lit and storytelling mecca. The Moth, which is out of NYC but has two monthly events in Chicago, is one of the most well-known storytelling events, and was the first large event at which I told a story. Each event is centered around a theme, and stories must be true and told without any notes. Moth attendees do not know who will read in advance—storytellers are chosen randomly after the event begins—and the audience votes for a winner at the end of the night. (And there is a Moth Story Slam in Miami TONIGHT! June 14th, Olympia Theater, 7PM)

I also particularly enjoyed telling stories at I Shit You Not, a storytelling event dedicated to the always embarrassing and usually funny stories about the bodily functions, and the Depression Hour Open Mic, a now-defunct event where people told their saddest true stories (think standup comedy if the goal was to make the audience cry instead of laugh). (My involvement in Chicago’s live lit scene barely scratched the surface. Check here, here, and here to learn about more events.)

After settling down in Tampa, I was surprised and disappointed to learn that the city lacks a live lit and storytelling scene. In fact, most of the writers I’ve met in Florida are unfamiliar with the term “live lit.” As I searched, I found that Wordier Than Thou put on occasional live lit events in St. Petersburg, and the SunLit Festival hosted yearly live lit events, but there were no monthly live lit events in Tampa.

I'm excited to say that I was a reader at the FIRST First Draft!

My classmates, T.J. Murray, Colleen Kolba, and myself, created First Draft, a reading/storytelling/live lit event, in order to bring more live lit to Tampa. We want Tampa writers and the local general public alike to learn the joys of the art of storytelling. At each event, at least two writers read their written work. Between readings, we incorporate interactive games with the audience and on-the-spot storytelling.  We began First Draft in my apartment and have been holding events at Southern Brewing & Winemaking in Seminole Heights since January of 2016. It meets on the third Thursday of every month and is free to attend. If you’re in the area, please stop by!

If you are interested in live lit but live in an area that does not have a thriving live lit scene, consider starting your own event. It isn’t as difficult as it sounds! Many live lit events have corresponding podcasts (see The Moth, The Narrators) that you can listen to in order to get a feel for how other events are run. Bars, restaurants, and coffee shops are often eager to allow events to run for free on weeknights, since those nights don’t usually draw as many customers. Writers and comedians are always looking for places to read and tell stories, and if you encourage them, your friends will probably be willing to get up on stage, too. Fun for everyone!

NEXT UP - JUNE 16!

And tonight, June 14th, there will be a MOTH STORY SLAM at Miami's historic OLYMPIA THEATER at 7PM! 

Allyson Hoffman is Hooked on Linked Short Stories!

Hello readers! As I've mentioned before, I have a great group of peers in my MFA program at USF. One of them is Allyson Hoffman, a Michigan native and fellow fiction writer. I've been lucky enough to be in a bunch of classes with her and exchange work with her over the last year. She's also involved in everything and is always putting on readings and events! She's awesome. 

Anyway, I'm always so impressed with the breadth of everyone's knowledge in class (especially since I feel like a total fiction newbie), and when I heard Allyson give a presentation about linked short stories, I asked her if she wouldn't mind contributing to the blog! 

With no further ado, a post by this week's guest blogger, Allyson Hoffman! 

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As an MFA creative writing student, the getting-to-know-what-the-heck-I-do conversation with family and acquaintances goes something like this:

“So you’re a writer. What do you write?”

“Fiction.” 

“So you want to write novels?”

“Something like that.” And then I smile, wondering if I should elaborate more.

I do want to write books, but not necessarily novels, because I want to write books built out of stories, stories that stand alone and can be read alone, but when ordered and packaged together become something bigger. These stories might have different narrators, or might be set in different places, or might take place in different times.

The phrase I use for this is linked short stories, though other folks call them short story cycles or novels in stories. The emphasis, I think, in all of these is the word story.

I had the pleasure of first studying linked short stories in a workshop taught by Dr. Susanna Childress at Hope College. The course was devoted to linked short stories, both reading and writing them. I spent hours crafting my stories, reading and re-reading the assigned texts.

Two years later, I’m still obsessed with linked short stories. As a reader, I love how I can peer into the corners of different houses, live the lives of many characters, and see what characters really think about each other. I love events that take place in one story and the consequences that result in other stories. For example, in Jennifer Egan’s collection A Visit from the Goon Squad, characters make choices as young adults that affect their lives later on. Although this may sound vague, it’s often difficult to offer examples of this without giving away spoilers!

As a writer, what is most exciting for me is that the links among the stories vary. Some collections are linked by place or by a family. Others are linked by theme, with no overlapping characters at all.

Recently, I gave a class presentation on Lauren Acampora’s The Wonder Garden a collection of stories linked by a small suburb of New York City called Old Cranberry. The collection was well-received by critics, but as part of my preparation, I wanted to know how everyday readers felt. I wanted to know how the everyday reader would connect with this kind of book.  On Goodreads and Amazon, the commenters were kind but confused. They did not understand why the book went in so many directions. Some cited frustrations because they wouldn’t have picked up the book if they had known it was a series of stories. The consensus was that the writing was good, but the readers would have preferred a novel.

Such comments surprised me. I loved The Wonder Garden. I loved the messiness of the characters, how impossible and stubborn and frustrating they could be. I loved that the final story did not wrap up every thread, how I knew the characters were still beating along in Old Cranberry with their messiness.

So my latest revelation—and this really is a revelation—is that not every reader wants to read linked short stories. I haven’t identified why, but I imagine it has something to do with reader expectations. To be fair, none of my favorite collections say “linked short stories” on the cover or back cover. Some don’t even use the word “stories” at all. Perhaps this is for publishing and marketing purposes. Maybe readers feel more welcoming of a book that doesn't have unfamiliar or literary-sounding language.

I challenge readers who haven’t picked up a collection of linked short stories before to do so with an open mind, free from expectations. Below is sample of some of my favorites, including one I recently wrote a review for on newpages.com. Happy reading!

• Olive Kitteridge – Elizabeth Strout
• A Visit From the Goon Squad—Jennifer Egan
• Drown—Junot Diaz
• The Things They Carried—Tim O’Brien
• Love Medicine—Louise Erdrich
• The Wonder Garden—Lauren Acampora
• The Suicide Club—Toni Graham
• Love in Theory—E. J. Levy