Monthly Archives: January 2009

Brevity Blog Features Tim Elhajj on Writing, Jimi Don’t Play Here No More

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This week the Brevity Blog is featuring Brevity 29 authors discussing the stories they wrote for the latest issue. The idea here is to discuss the “origins or inspirations” for the stories, and the Brevity Editors even discourage blatant car salesmanship from recently published authors (only stealth car salesmanship will do!), so you know this isn’t just another marketing gimmick. It’s the real deal, folks.

My post went live earlier tonight.

Here is a short excerpt:

This story, Jesus.

The end of [Jimi Don’t Play Here No More] takes place in 1988 when my oldest son was three-years-old. I’ve been telling this story for ages now, but only to other addicts and alcoholics, usually at some type of 12-step meeting. I only recently started telling it to civilians, which is difficult because people never know what to say when I get to the end.

Check out the rest of the post.

And keep watching the Brevity blog for more Brevity 29 authors. This is an awesome issue. I am looking forward to reading Beth Westmark discussion of Tenderness, myself.

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They Had Machine Guns

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Yesterday’s reports of an armed gunman in the woods behind the kids’ school? False alarm.

Here is what happened: Bellevue Community College did an emergency drill that involved loud announcements over their public PA system using language like “take cover” and “armed intruder.” The kids at Puesta del Sol elementary school were actually able to hear these announcements during their recess, reported it, and were called in from recess: the elementary school went into lockdown.

School officials looked into the cause of the announcements, realized it was a community college drill, and were about to cancel the lockdown, when Kennedy saw an “armed intruder” running in the woods behind the school. She reported it, and the police literally poured into the neighborhood.

Holly got there and called me just as the police were tearing down the barricades. In the background, I could hear Aaron exclaim with much gusto, “They had machine guns!” I couldn’t be sure if he was talking about the cops or the intruders Kennedy saw, but he seemed delighted.

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Tim Elhajj in Brevity 29

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Brevity 29, the January 2009 edition, has hit the Web. I’ve got a story in this one, so I’m excited.

I’ve also still got a job, despite the carnage to the Seattle tech industry this morning. Good luck to anyone who may have lost theirs today. And if that’s not enough to make me feel grateful, this afternoon the police responded to reports of an armed gunman in the woods behind my kids’ elementary school. No one was hurt, but the school was locked down when Holly went to pick them up tonight.

Jesus. You gotta hope the dead don’t rise with the moon tonight.

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Man on Wire

This is about French high wire walker, Philippe Petit, who strung a wire and walked between the WTC towers in the 70s. I had heard about this feat but wasn’t familiar with the details. I was amazed he was able to pull it off, considering the limitations of his crew: His American helpers were ne’er-do-wells and fuck ups, who had no idea about high wire acts. His French friends were capable, but none of them stood to gain much (and could possibly have lost their good friend, which was probably their motivation). This movie is billed as a documentary shot like a heist picture, but watching him pull off this unlikely coup, felt more like watching the fate story from Slumdog Millionaire unfold.

Now that I’ve set with it for a night, what really moved me was how Petit captured his friends and wound them so tightly into his passion. This makes the ending completely unexpected and even a little uncomfortable. I am left wondering if his one good friend was perhaps more than just a friend. There were an inordinate number of shots of bushy haired young men, frolicking in the countryside.

Interestingly they never mention the attack and destruction of the WTC, but I don’t think you can watch this and not think along those lines. The 70s stock footage of the buildings going up is eerily similar to the footage of the site after the fall. The whole idea of a plot to sneak into the WTC makes complete sense for the drama but is also mildly disturbing. At one point, they do a Ken Burns panning shot of Petit on his wire with a jetliner looming overhead in the background. I doubt any of this was meant as an intentional homage, but perhaps seeing this movie post tragedy is one reason it has captured my imagination.

Plus it’s just a bad ass stunt.

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Slumdog Millionaire

 

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Jamal Malik (Dev Patel) is a poor Indian teen who wins big on the Indian version of “Who Wants to be a Millionaire?” but is then accused of cheating. His explanation for how he knows each of the winning answers involves offering up the tragic story of his life. Juxtaposing his touching boyhood story with the tawdry game show is just a brilliant idea.

It really works for me.

Early in the picture they show how he gets the first answer, and I understand how the rest of the movie is going to play out. But because it seems to promise an interesting and exotic collection of stories, I don’t feel bored or irritated. I understand he will ultimately win the big prize, but I want to see it anyway.

The first half reminds me of Pan’s Labyrinth, especially the big scary Indian guy with the handlebar mustache and the rioting horde descending on the boys and their mom. Jamal’s brother’s ascendance might have been a little over the top, but by the time it happens, I am already onboard. The big dance number seems like the right way to wrap it up and roll the credits–a little bit of everything for everyone.

This is in my top ten and I’m not even sure what the other nine will be.

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Giant Snowman Spotted in Seattle Suburb

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Holly and I were driving to the movies last week and she gasped and whipped the car down a side street.

I was like, “What?”

“Hold on,” she said.

We went all the way around the block and then she pulled up to this monster, about a mile from our house. It’s higher than the guy’s roof, so it must be, what, 15 to 17 feet tall?

And this was after three or four days of rain.

The next morning was Sunday. I got up around eight and hustled the kids in the car. “Are we getting donuts?” Aaron wanted to know.

“Better than donuts,” I said, getting my camera.

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The Tale of Despereaux

This is a subversive little movie.

Everyone in it is fighting the power: Despereaux is a small mouse with big ears who refuses to be meek like all the other mice. Roscuro is a shipwrecked rat who mostly refuses to be evil, like all the other rats. And there is also a soup chef who refuses to abstain from cooking soup. I enjoyed it, even if it’s message seemed a little heavy handed at times.

I saw it with Holly and the kids during our trip to California. Holly, who writes Children’s literature, came away disappointed. Apparently the book is much darker and better (it won the Newbery medal in 2004) than the movie. Aaron, who also read the book, seemed pretty blasé about the whole thing. I have been amused at Aaron’s reaction because there is talk on the Web that the movie’s G rating was inappropriate for its dark story. I didn’t share this opinion, but up until now Aaron has always been our bellwether of frightening movies. Kennedy, who hadn’t read the book and was incredibly interested in seeing the movie, just about fell to pieces because her mother and brother were already comparing and contrasting the movie with the book as the credits rolled.

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Raymond Carver On Writing

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Writers write, and they write, and they go on writing, in some cases long after wisdom and even common sense have told them to quit. There are always plenty of reasons—good, compelling reasons, too—for quitting, or for not writing very much or very seriously. (Writing is trouble, make no mistake, for everyone involved, and who needs trouble?) But once in a great while lightning strikes, and occasionally it strikes early in the writer’s life. Sometimes it comes later, after years of work. And sometimes, most often, of course, it never happens at all…. But it will never, never happen to those who don’t work hard at it and who don’t consider the act of writing as very nearly the most important thing in their lives, right up there next to breath, and food, and shelter, and love, and God.

—Raymond Carver (introduction, Best American Short Stories 1986)

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