Anticipation:
Sated.
We’re back! More pictures on my flickr site.
Present Tense
(PAST IMPERFECT)
Monthly Archives: November 2007
Katha Pollitt has Balls
Katha Pollitt is my latest hero.
I wasn’t even familiar with her work until I heard her on a recent episode of NPR’s Fresh Air. An American feminist writer, Pollitt is perhaps best known for her column “Subject to Debate” in The Nation magazine.
But all that means squat to me. Ms. Pollitt is my new hero because she has balls.
Her new book, Learning to Drive and Other Life Stories, includes essays about discovering her boyfriend was unfaithful and her subsequent response, which included web-stalking him. Her friends cautioned her about publishing these stories. What kind of self-respecting feminist tells stories like these?
Discussing her motivations for publishing, Pollitt articulates something anyone who writes personal essays or memoir knows is true. Here is Katha Pollitt on Fresh Air (probably within the first 6 minutes of air time):
In American literature now you can tell the most horrible things about yourself — you can be a heroin addict or a sex worker (not that those things are so horrible, but let’s just say) — as long as the arc of the story is, “I used to be bad and now I’m good” [or] “I used to be sick and now I’m well.”
But what you can’t do is really present, in a full detailed emotional way, what it feels like to be in an ordinary loser situation and just tell what it was like.
There has to be a moral in American literature. This is one of the big problems.
I have felt these same things approaching some of my essays. As an unpublished writer with few political affiliations, the stakes are much different for me than for Ms. Pollitt. But even with little name recognition, anyone who writes honestly about their lives puts it on the line in a way that other writers never really do. I am glad Ms. Pollitt had the courage to publish her work, even if she risks losing some of her luster in certain circles.
Of course, Katha Pollitt had balls long before she chose to publish Learning to Drive. Here is my favorite Pollitt story from a quick scan of the Web.
Citing Pollitt’s lack of patriotism, Bernard Goldberg named her number 74 in his book 100 People Who Are Screwing Up America. This was because Pollitt wrote a response to the September 11, 2001 attacks, Put Out No Flags, in which she argued for restraint. As if calling for moderation in autumn 2001 wasn’t gutsy enough, she responded to Goldberg’s criticism by writing, “Memo to self: Must try harder.”
What a great gal.
The BFG
Whenever I hear BFG, I think BFG 9000 from the old video game Doom, which featured an epic battle with monsters from hell by a futuristic space-marine.
In context of the game, I’m pretty sure BFG is an acronym for Big Fucking Gun. This is just how military people talk. For example, in the torpedo room of the boat where I served, any hammer over 10 ounces was known as a BFH. In the military, people extended this naming metaphor to just about everything, including large chicken breasts in the mess line (gimme dat BFB, son).
So I was surprised when Kennedy asked me to read The BFG.
I hadn’t even known about the Roald Dahl book until she suggested I read it. For Dahl, BFG stands for Big Friendly Giant. Over the summer Kennedy read it herself. Most every morning, I find her awake in her bedroom, reading something. If it’s not Dahl, it’s a Nancy Drew mystery or something from the Warriors series (think: Lord of the Rings with cats). Although she had already read The BFG, she checked it out of the library, just because it was familiar and an old favorite. When she found out I hadn’t read it, she insisted I take it on. Now when I tickle-attack her, I claim I am the BFD (Big Friendly Dad) and she squeals with delight.
It’s great having nine year olds that love to read (Aaron’s into Calvin and Hobbs and Garfield). But how much longer can it be before Dad and even tickle-attacks fall out of favor? How much longer before my kids won’t bring home anymore library books for me to read?
Will BFD ever come to mean something entirely different to the kids? As long as it’s not Big Fat Dad, I won’t complain.
The Internet Meme Post
Until I read about it on Sarah’s blog, I wasn’t sure what a meme was.
Now I realize it’s one of those things that sweeps across the Internet, making me feel all old and unhip. The last one I remember was All Your Base Are Belong To Us. Apparently you don’t need a poorly translated Japanese video game to attempt this sort of thing, as my friends are asking me to participate in our own grass roots phenomenon. We’re writing a meme about our strengths as writers.
My three greatest strengths as a writer are 1) having had good teachers, 2) being militantly on my own side, and 3) sticking it out for the long haul.
I had excellent writing teachers in college. I knew they were good teachers at the time, but I didn’t realize what an asset this was for me until recently. Not long ago a guy with an MFA started at my day job and he explained to me that writing workshops have gone out of style. A dozen years ago the workshop was the highlight of my academic experience. There may have been a few in-class written exercises, possibly even a (short) lecture or two. But in the writing classes, we mostly workshopped. My friend with the MFA explained that writing classes that focus exclusively on workshops are now generally viewed as a poor idea, because students tend to rip one another’s work apart. I can see how that would happen (especially in an MFA program). There’s someone like that in every class. In my undergraduate classes, it wasn’t so much that my teachers managed to carve out a safe place in their classrooms (they certainly did), but rather they taught us how to figure out what was working in a piece and to focus on that part. This, I think, has made all the difference. So here’s to Louise DeSalvo, Jenny Shute, Bill Root, and Donna Masini (I’m sure I’ve forgotten a few).
Being militantly on your own side is a phrase I read in an Anne Lamott book, but I immediately decided to steal it for my own. To me it means sticking up for my work, no matter what the consequences. Probably the result of a lifetime of low self-esteem, here is how it works: I pretend my work (especially new work) is like the retarded little brother I never had. My work may slobber a little when it laughs, have cowlicks that jut oddly from its skull, or wear its pants pulled way up above its bellybutton. In my heart I know that each of these deficiencies will have to be looked at and objectively weighed and ultimately sorted out. That’s all okay. But nobody gets to disrespect my retarded little brother.
Sticking it out for the long haul just means consistently finding time to write. Somehow I manage to find a little time each week to devote to writing. If anything, I owe Holly a huge debt of gratitude for her support. And in return I am going to tag her to write about her strengths as a writer.
Present Tense 