Seven lines in seven minutes

1. The sun filters in through tree branches, through a window in need of cleaning, and a baby howls over the monitor.

2. He wakes with drama, with impunity, with a growing sense of lack of BAGEL, lack of MILK.

3. I ate a bagel every morning, during both pregnancies, and each of the boys loves bagels, no coincidence.

4. When I wake up, I'm glad it's not howling.

5. Wrote a whole other post that could probably turn into an essay; sorry, blog, you don't get to eat that one.

6. It's been four minutes; must address the howling, which has grown in intensity and lack of BAGEL.

7. Hard to concentrate, a bit.

Ten lines in ten minutes

1. My brain has been rewired by motherhood.

2. I mangle words, phrases and names in exactly the same way my mother did/does.

3. We teased her relentlessly in the '80s for renaming "Clarence Trent D'arby."



(pause in line-making for 3:33 minutes of deliciousness. Was he wearing a...sheriff's badge?)

4. The theme of so much writing is "now I know better."

5. We are all cautionary tales unto ourselves.

6. On Monday, I taught, met with students, had a great belated birthday lunch at the Indian buffet with a friend, attended a bottle rocket launch hosted by my dad and uncle, treated the family to Taco Bell drive-thru, then heard Cheryl Strayed speak at Butler.

7. Hearing the voice of "Dear Sugar" actually say the word "Sweetpea" moved me unexpectedly.

8. Work days usually mean 1-2 meals eaten in a car, and would like to get that number down and be a civilized human being, but this does not appear to be that season in my life.

9. The baby was whiny, because we were eating our Taco Bell in the car and not sharing, because he sometimes pukes when he eats in the car, and I told him, "Sorry, sweetie, Mommy's face-down in a burrito," which is not kind or civilized but also made us laugh.

10. The kids watched their grandfather and great uncle launch a two-liter bottle a couple hundred feet in the air, spiraling in the wind, and we all cheered at this little miracle of flight; the last launch of the day landed the rocket on the roof of their office, and my dad and his brother laughed so hard they had tears in their eyes.

Informative information, which is not the same as informatics

(Informatics is a super-cool major offered at one of the universities where I teach. It seems like a made-up word, and I adore made-up words: language is fluid and referential and NEAT.)

But I have information for you. New primate fiction, written by (Vicariously) Yours Truly, at Fiction Southeast.

(my interior monologue wants to tell you about my day. my logic-brain says nah. I'll hashtag it, inspired by the Oscars: #ThereWillBeAngst #NotRelevantIn2014ButHumorMe #AmericanAdjunctHustle #HerANDHim #TodayIsawSomebodyWhoLookedLikeDanielDayLewisButClearlyWasnt #fin)

Somehow I am doing four readings this month. FOUR. This is out of the ordinary. This is fun. This is a reminder that I will have to keep my fancy T-shirt clean at least four times this March. Reading twice with my friend Bryan Furuness (see #1 and #3), and have strong urge to ask him what he'll be wearing, as I do in these situations, but suspect he will look at me blankly, like, Um, #IWillBeWearingClothes?

#ThereWillBeDetails:

#1. Mythic Indy reading Friday, March 7, 7 p.m. in Fountain Square (1043 Virginia Ave.) With Bryan Furuness, Dawn Fable Lindquist, Maggie Wheeler. #ThereWillBeBeer

#2. International Women's Day, Wednesday, March 12, 6:30 p.m., IUPUI University Library. Art by Anila Agha, poetry by Rachel Sahaidachny and Saundrajo Holiday, fiction by me. #ThereWillBeAnInternationalBuffet

#3. Reading at the Vonnegut Library during CCCCs week, Thursday, March 20. Time TBA. With Bryan aforementioned Furuness. #ThereWillBePallMalls #maybe #MomIDontSmoke

#4. Books & Beer at Indy Reads Books, Saturday, March 22, also part of CCCCs, 7 p.m., with Jim Hanna, Tracy Mishkin, Letitia Moffit, Nafissa Thompson, Matthew Minicucci. #ThereWillAlsoBeBeer #trend

#fin

Time measured by cuts

I last posted here around the time I last got my hair cut. I remember because it was the end of the semester, and I kept brushing too-long bangs out of my eyes; I even used that action while teaching my creative writing class, as an example of characterization by gesture (a tic, really, that probably rankled some. It rankled me. I like that word, rankled, and will use it again now: rankled.)

Time for posting, and haircuts. I've been working on final revisions of my novel, TRIP THROUGH YOUR WIRES, which will be out from Engine Books in February 2015. A year from now. Getting up early before the rest of the house to get in some writing time. (cue baby waking, crying. didn't know he had crib wifi & was reading this. hang on.)

It is now almost one week later. Seriously. One week. What have I done in that time?

::Took kids to library. Chased one child up a ramp. Everyone had low blood sugar, everyone screamed. We ate, we apologized. Engaged kids in Valentine-sticker-project that held their interest for two minutes; finished cards myself, cursing. Found out my 2 removed moles weren't cancerous. Taught classes, graded. Talked about Herman Koch's The Dinner for a faculty/staff book discussion group. Chilled out with my Valentine at home on a snowy night. Movies books beer. Had a birthday. Ate too many fried cheese curds. Had the family over. Could not find a candle for my birthday cupcake so I lit a kebab skewer. The children were delighted that it still glowed after blowing it out. I forgot to make a wish because I was focused on making sure children were not burned by kebab skewer. No, that WAS my wish: do not burn children with improvised birthday kebab skewer candle. Worked on interview questions for a writer I'm excited to learn more about. Watched Downton Abbey, and for the first time we're current. Laundry. Grocery. Skied myself sleepy.::

Some other things. Etc. and etc.

Still revising the novel; getting closer to done. Still need a haircut. Maybe I'll keep growing it until I turn in the final revision. The bookish version of a playoff beard.

Caption: REMEMBER ME? (Quiet internal voice: Yes. Though I wish I had never Googled "magnetic beard toy man.")

I have been growing my hair longer for some time now. The key, I've finally figured out, is not to cut it. (Slow learner.) Not so with revision. Sometimes you need to cut and cut, for years. (Slow learner.)

Ah but now it is pumpkin time, so that I may rise early enough to get some writing done before the kids are up. And the weeks just kind of blend into each other. The other day, as I was picking crushed Life cereal out of the dining room rug, I kept telling myself, This is not a metaphor. This is not a metaphor. (Lie. I thought to myself, "crushed Life cereal," now that's pretty funny. You should use that. And that's the whole troof, as some of us around here might say. Peas and fanks.)

End-of-semester list

1. Our Christmas tree smells so delicious that I want to eat it. That's probably a sign of iron deficiency, as in when you crave ice. My teeth cringed just thinking about it.

2. The semester is done and I want to sloth on the couch all break with books, movies, a blanket, some popcorn, my family.

3. I want to get my brain back into writing shape. It's in commenting shape, critiquing shape, lecturing shape. I have filled a few notebooks about the different energy needed to teach vs. write.

4. We survived a semester of full-time daycare for two kids. I'm not quite sure how, especially while potty-training the older and breastfeeding the younger. The morning routine was...not pretty. Two nights a week, Dada picked them up, cooked dinner, and put them to bed solo while I taught. Some nights, I'm told, were...not pretty.

5. The kids did great. They love their school. I've missed them terribly.

6. I've enjoyed working and thinking. Teaching new books and learning new things. Trips to the library to write and research in peace.

7. My winter break babyproofing today involved a metal file, a roll of wire, and some all-purpose snips. This business is no joke.

8. I have about a hundred things rattling around in my head right now, like fill out the forms for the pediatric dentist and reply to the email from the department head. Finish your beverage and put away the Goldfish. Go to bed and get the rest you've been promising yourself.

9. OK. OK. OK. OK.

10. New fiction about Indianapolis, in the Mythic Indy series at Punchnel's, called Carpe Lucem. Those from my 'hood might recognize the Monon Trail, Mama Carolla's, Joe V. from Yats in a cameo as the piano store owner.

11. Boy howdy do I love a head-clearing list. This one only scratched the surface. But sometimes that's as deep as the itch goes.

Yes you can

Question. And that's if only I can ask this question. Can I?*

YES YOU CAN!**

Are you free Saturday night? That's my question. Because I would like to cordially invite you to Indy Reads Books on Mass Ave. in Indianapolis. I'll be reading some words at A NIGHT OF WORDS, 7:30 p.m., with UIndy student Elise Campagna. It should be fun. You should come.

*De la Soul lyric

**Reference to Tribe Called Quest lyric within De la Soul lyric***

***Which samples all these other songs, beautifully, including one by Lou Reed, who is referenced all the time, especially this week (RIP).

Alice Munro wins Nobel Prize

Alice Munro: DEAR LIFE. God, isn't it? #fridayreads

— Sarah Layden (@calmoots) April 27, 2013

Uncovering...the cover!

Forthcoming from Engine Books, early 2015.

No. 1 Comedy Duo

The other night, I was setting up the humidifier in our bedroom to combat a little cold. I'm bonking into the (open) closet doors, negotiating my way around the bed, trying not to knock over the Pack n' Play, which we still use in our room for the baby's naps. Space is at a premium these days.

Husband: It's like trying to set up a humidifier in a clown car.
Me: Clowns can get congested.
Husband: Yeah, all that powdery makeup.

Thank you! We'll be here all week! Try the veal!

Forthcoming

What a great word.

Especially when in reference to a book. Mine, that is. I am falling-down thrilled that Engine Books will publish my debut novel, TRIP THROUGH YOUR WIRES, with a launch date tentatively scheduled for February 2015.

This is the novel-formerly-known-as. Read my Next Big Thing post if you want to know more. But I'm training myself on the new title, so it's Voldemort City from here on out.

Did I skywrite the news, or bark a cheer into a bullhorn from the roof of my single-story dwelling? I did not. But those were things that crossed my mind as options, when I imagined what would happen upon the novel's acceptance. I think I'm still kind of processing that this is actually happening. So skywriting/bullhorns aren't out of the question, but they'll most likely occur later. Or my tweets/Facebook status updates will have served as their equivalents.

(I just tried to copy/paste a bit of blog code, and the whole True/False section of the Humanities literature exam I was writing earlier filled the screen. File under: moments you are glad didn't happen in class.)

Forthcoming. A book. My book.