I feel very strongly about Thursday

For years, maybe five or so, Thursday was the signifier of the weekend. My schedule worked out so that I didn't teach on Fridays -- No Class Fridays, I dubbed them, only realizing the double-meaning when my sister made fun of me and my classlessness. Partly it was being a commuter, and being lucky enough to get T/TH teaching assignments instead of MWF. Partly it's that colleges and universities offered fewer Friday classes for a variety of reasons (budget cuts, professional development and conference travel for faculty, etc.), and now are considering bringing them back (to curb Thursday night binge drinking -- among students, I am to assume).* Fridays always have been my much-needed catch-up days.

This year, however, I've had a Friday class both semesters. And it's been fine, a much lighter workday than the rest of the week. I get to sit in on a fascinating lecture that I thoroughly enjoy, one of those, Wait, they're paying me to do this? But I still haven't forgotten that Thursday feeling of doneness. Stick-a-fork-in-me-ness.

So it is nice when Thursday contains an almost-done, kitten-on-a-poster Hang In There! style treat. Today I got two: a wide-ranging conversation about fiction over coffee, and the publication of my essay, Gone in a Blink, in BluePrintReview. (Originally published in REAL.)

The essay covers a topic I also feel very strongly about: theft, and being a repeated victim of theft. Which has been, as you might imagine, totally awesome. I posted the link to the piece on Facebook,** and those who've responded with their own stories of loss reminded me how common this experience is. How violated we feel, yet still we summon up the faith to trust that it won't happen again. Or to hope that will be so.

I'm sure there will come a time when I feel less strongly about losing things, when I'm less paranoid about where my coat or purse are at any given time, where I fail to exercise extreme caution about announcing publicly that I'll be out of town or even out to a movie. Already I've grown less attached to things, even important ones imbued with memories, because I know how quickly they can disappear, and be gone in a blink.


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*Little-known fact: This was the title of the companion album to Sheryl Crow's multi-platinum debut, "Tuesday Night Music Club." Also, I am lying about that part.
**Thus mildly violating my Lenten ban -- no social networking before I've done any writing for the day. But I made up for it by writing later, and also writing now. Why be a stickler with your own made-up rules?

Little Round Mirrors

My screenwriter/teacher friend John has an interesting project going: Little Round Mirrors, a blog about watching his immense DVD collection in alphabetical order and reporting on the experience.

I'm enjoying getting to re-experience some favorite old films through his eyes. I have a generally good-to-excellent memory, except when I have a terrible memory, and I've been noticing lately that my recall of films and TV shows is...not so great. "Oh, is that the one where the guy goes into a coma and believes he's wearing a rabbit suit?" I might ask when somebody mentions a film title. And the reply, more often than not, is, "Uh, no. It was a girl, and it wasn't a coma but a trip to rehab, and she wore a donkey mascot suit. NOT a rabbit."

Details, details. If I can create a defense, or at least a reasonable theory for my lapses, I think it has to do with structure: while I may not get every detail of the plot right (or, OK, any detail of the plot), I can generally remember or discuss the structure of the film. Three-act, restorative, hero's journey, etc. etc. My brain needs a way to connect it to the way the script's been formed, to the writing itself. Other times, it's an image, a line of dialogue, or the way a character interacts with the world. All elements that would work their way into a script.

John's alphabetical system (there are rules; see the blog for more details) ensures even treatment of the collection. I can try to guess what's coming next ("Better Off Dead" was the latest), even as I have no idea what's next. Taxonomy is immensely appealing: my favorite local radio station, 92.3 WTTS, is in the middle of their annual World-Class Rock A-Z program. Today they're into the "E" section of the music library, and "Eyes Without a Face" by Billy Idol accompanied my drive home. I have a feeling the song appeared in at least one of the '80s movies from John's collection. I couldn't tell you which one, but I bet he could.

Steve Almond: Presto Book-O

Up now at The Rumpus, candyfreak/Kurt Vonnegutphile Steve Almond makes the argument for self-publishing as one means of disseminating your words, on your terms.

Pros? Cons?

Regahhhdless, I feel strongly that my home office/decor would be vastly improved by the addition of an Espresso Book Machine. I believe I have established here my enthusiastic acceptance of robots, yes?

The evolution of publishing is an important conversation. Even -- or especially -- when the message is sell, or else.

PANK is fun to say

And it's a literary magazine, collective, website, entity, group of individuals who are doing great things with and for writing. PANK 4 is available now, and contains my short-short story, "Comet's Return," along with new work from one of my favorite poets, Bob Hicok. Also included are Kyle Minor, Matt Bell, Jennifer Pieroni, Meg Pokrass, Coralie Reed, Ethel Rohan, Kathleen Rooney, Emily Rosko, Matthew Simmons, Tim Jones-Yelvington, Steven McDermott, JA Tyler, David Erlewine, Alicia Gifford, Elisa Gabbert, and many more.

PANK also published my short piece, "The Rest of Your Life," online last summer. There's audio to boot. Who doesn't like being read to?

There's a new robot in town checking out my blargh. Hi, robot! I hope you like my stories. I hope you are not rusting out this winter in the northerly suburbs, and if you are, maybe a girl in a gingham dress will come by soon with an oilcan. Tin man, robot -- OK, bit of a stretch. But anyway, robot? If, like other robots I have known, you are looking for lessons in how to feel, I've got two cd recommendations: Feist's "The Reminder" (featuring my theme song/credo, "I Feel it All"), and The Avett Brothers album "Emotionalism," esp. "All My Mistakes," which I found a way to quote in class this week.

Are you the type of robot that can see into the future? If so, I have a question: will I get Avett concert tickets for my birthday?

xo
Sarah