I almost got one past the editors over at Brevity.
Alas, it was not meant to be. I got the rejection slip on Valentine’s Day, but was pleased to see that the editor, Dinty Moore, said my story (20/20) had been “deliberated carefully and enjoyed.”
Today I spent a good part of the morning and early afternoon submitting more of my work. You have to expect rejection. Competition is tough. You have to revel in even being considered.
It’s only a matter of time.
And submissions.
Although I rarely read fiction these days, I do read a little, especially if it’s good.
Shoot the Buffalo, Matt Briggs latest novel, is my kind of fiction. A coming of age story set in the dark woods of the Pacific Northwest, it features some of the saddest, yet most oddly compelling characters I’ve read in a long while.
I seek out coming of age stories. The best memoir is written to read like fiction, so all the coming of age stories I read actually count as research toward my own on-going memoir project. One of the inherent problems of writing this kind of story is that something big has to happen to your main character, but not so big as to prevent a minor from rising to the challenge and overcoming in a way that’s believable and (hopefully) compelling to read.
In American literature, this sort of story often presents itself as a Hero’s Quest, typically a redemptive story where the hero overcomes some great adversary. But it’s not always so cut and dry. In This Boy’s Life, Tobias Wolff’s well-known coming of age memoir, a no-account stepfather is young Wolff’s big challenge. In a stunning act of guile, Wolff manages to (literally) reinvent himself, escaping to a prep school in the Northeast. Wolff’s use of deceit to overcome his situation has always made the story stand out for me. There is nothing more poignant then a child trying to cope with grown up issues the best he can, especially if that child is saddled with lousy parents. For a boy in this situation, the most believable thing to do is make a poor choice.
Shoot the Buffalo deals with the guilt a boy feels after he leads his siblings into the woods in search of their parents and his little sister dies of exposure. What struck me was the clever way Briggs uses the story’s structure and setting to move the main character from childhood guilt and confusion to a believable resolution as a young man.
It’s fiction, but it feels real. It’s just a genuine story about a hard childhood.
Because it’s the hottest new upcoming genre on the publishing scene?
Perhaps. God knows writing about one’s own self is nothing new, but memoir has been very popular for about the last ten years. Recently James Frey famously taught us that labeling fiction as memoir can make your work more interesting and publishable.
But not everyone is as mercenary.
Listening to a broadcast on NPR earlier this month, I was astonished to hear the family of a former slave discuss their ancestor. The radio show featured David Blight’s new book, A Slave No More, which includes two never before published escape narratives written by former slaves. To celebrate the stories coming to light, the show invited three generations of Washington’s–descendants of one of the authors–to discuss their ancestor’s story.
Okay, fine. But here’s the astonishing part: Until Blight approached them, they had no idea their ancestor was a slave. The whole story was news to them. News to most of the people in the family. A family secret, even to the family.
Discussing the reasons why the manuscript may have been hidden, the eldest Washington (granddaughter to the author) mentioned the stigma of being a former slave, of their earlier generations wanting to put those years behind them. Thirty years past the Civil Rights Movement, this stigma seemed a little odd, especially now that we celebrate these types of narratives.
This former slave probably had little formal school. His family didn’t want him broadcasting his past. And even though he had written his story after the Civil War, he was still writing in a hostile world, with the odds decidedly against him. But he found the time and inclination to write it all out. Maybe he just wanted to leave a record for his ancestors. Maybe he wanted to better understand his journey.
Or maybe he just new it was a good one. Too good to let go to waste.
Brevity recently posted about a writing teacher with a problem: one of her memoir students was afraid that if she told her story people would think she was a jerk. This particular student’s story involved higher stakes than most of us will ever face (her remorse over the death of an innocent man), but if you’ve ever tried to write memoir, you know this fear. No matter your circumstances, memoir writing always includes the challenge of putting yourself out there in a story.
What struck me was the homerun advice this teacher gave her student:
The following week, I struggled to find something to tell her. Then I found a quote that for me defined the real purpose of the personal memoir. It was from Margery Williams’ The Velveteen Rabbit:
“What is REAL?” asked the Rabbit one day…. “Does it happen all at once or bit by bit?”
“It doesn’t happen all at once,” said the Skin Horse. “You come. It takes a long time. That’s why it doesn’t often happen to people who break easily, or have sharp edges or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are REAL, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don’t matter at all, because once you are REAL, you can’t be ugly, except to the people who don’t understand.”
I told my student that she had to be real. If she revealed her true self and experience to the world, then she could only be a jerk to those unwilling to understand.
— Debbie Hagan
Where do you find teachers like this?
I ask this literally. I had excellent teachers when I was an undergraduate, but choosing them was completely dumb luck. I’ve tried taking classes since, and while I haven’t had any terrible teachers, I haven’t been that impressed either.
I have tried different strategies to find a good teacher, all to no avail. One of my recent teachers, who published a wonderful memoir and was teaching at one of this area’s more prestigious (and expensive) schools couldn’t articulate how to use present tense verbs to make temporal transitions. Teaching is a completely different skill set from writing. I have no doubt that this teacher knew how to make these transitions in her own writing, but she couldn’t explain it to save her life.
To be fair, I’m not sure I could clearly explain the mechanics of grammar. And I’m not even sure that’s what I want in a creative writing teacher. I am more interested in reading my work and listening to other’s work. I like the feeling I get collaborating with other writers. So what do I want from a teacher? I want encouragement. Honesty and good judgment. If I am frightened, I want my teacher to struggle the following week to find something to say.
I am not sure it’s possible for someone to teach you to be a financially successful writer, but it shouldn’t be so hard to find a good teacher.
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.
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.
Alice Sebold is on tour for her new book, and last night Kennedy and I went to see her.
I read somewhere that writers have responsibilities that go beyond writing, namely buying books and attending readings. Because I feel guilty buying so many books, this idea is immensely satisfying for me. It’s not just another book to pile in stacks on the floor, it’s an investment in my career. Readings are something else altogether. I never feel guilty about going to readings. Instead I feel uncomfortable, especially in the little receiving line to get my book signed. Even though I know Alice, last night was no different.
Alice remembered me, which was nice. I presented Kennedy, but this seemed to baffle Alice. One of the guys I work seemed shocked when he heard I was taking my daughter to the reading. And I’ll admit I wondered if it was the right thing to do myself. Alice’s big theme is violence to women, and her new book even features a matricide. But Kennedy got so excited about our date after I first suggested it, I didn’t have the heart to leave her at home. Lucky for me Alice picked something to read that didn’t require any explaining.
So another reading under my belt. Alice looks pretty much like I remember her, except a little bit older.
Speaking of writer responsibilities, last week I submitted my story, The Solution to All My Problems, to Tin House, primarily because their Spring issue is themed “Off the Grid,” by which they mean “stories about people that function out of the bounds of “normal” society.” It probably behooves me to do more research on journals, but the deadline for submissions was fast approaching, so I just made sure they publish non-fiction and sent it out.
I’ve decided to start submitting my creative non-fiction work to lit mags. I’ve only ever submitted a few stories in my life, but never have I had anything published. As always, I could use some help.
Despite my inexperience, I’ve come up with a few guidelines:
No longer will I submit to contests or magazines that require fees. I’m not in this for the money (I would be hard pressed to earn more with literary than technical writing). And I realize that having work rejected is part and parcel of the literary writing game. But paying a fee to have your work ignored seems silly. I’m not completely ruling out paying a fee, but I’ve only got so much time for submitting work, and the fee-based venues go to the bottom of the sort.
If I ain’t in it for the money, I am in it to boost my fragile ego (or at least earn some bragging rights). I am shooting for the best non-fiction publications, or at least the ones that will publish my work. This is where I could use the most help. When I asked my friend Gary Presley what he thought were some of the more prestigious non-fiction magazines, he offered some suggestions (links appear below my blogroll). One of my friends from the IWW suggested The Sun Magazine for a piece I recently submitted for critique.
For Christmas one year, Holly gave me one of those thick books that list all the publishers, but I haven’t found it too useful. It lists magaiznes by how much they pay and the genres they publish, but there wasn’t a particularly comprehensive list of non-fiction publications. For example, I could’t find listed Creative Non-Fiction Magazine or Brevity, which are the only two literary magazines that focus solely on creative non-fiction.
It looks like finding a venue that matches your own particular style is the toughest part about submitting (or if not the toughest, at least the first part). It doesn’t help that a lot of these magazines don’t have recent issues online or free back issues. Research is going to take an investment of time and money, but I don’t see any other way.
Huge kudos to my good friend Sarah Morgan for coming up with an excellent tag line for this site, Past imperfect.
I love it. It’s a wonderful play on the verb tense theme in the title and an unabashed nod to past indiscretions. That’s exactly what I was looking for, but everything I came up with sounded like a requiem for a misspent youth. My life is much too good for anything that mournful, but this tag line is smart and funny. Sassy.
Thank you, thank you, thank you! Sarah Morgan has won my undying devotion!
My blog is having an identity crisis.
I was never happy with calling this site, Tim Elhajj. Although pragmatic, it seemed somewhat clumsy and unimaginative. I tried to spice it up with a silly tagline — “white boy with a funny last name” or “another happy parent blogging about his kids” — but ultimately these didn’t satisfy either.
My wife suggested the title, Present Tense, and I love it. Holly is great with titles. My big project for the past two years has been writing my memoir (which is in present tense), but the name goes further than that, capturing the satisfaction I feel writing about the kids, my favorite movies, or even technology and my own unfortunate decisions. So here’s to Holly Huckeba!
But now I need a tagline and I could use some help.
If you can think of a good tagline that goes with the title, First Person, Present Tense, pop it into a comment or send it to me. I’m all ears. I am game for almost anything, but the funny ones will get the most attention.
Present Tense 
