Living in a Literary Mine Shaft

Yes, a mine shaft. Which is why I haven't posted in...oh...forever. Right now I'm interning both at a literary magazine and a non-profit dedicated to the literary arts (state book awards, literature fellowships, etc.). I say mine shaft because I'm so deeply entrenched that my vision's narrowed (quite literally--I read so much I need new glasses) and I rarely have time to come up for air and check out what else is going on. You'd think with this literary tunnel vision I'd be blogging about it more--sadly, I've neglected reporting from the front lines. I know it's not New Years yet, but I'm resolving to update here more with interesting insights from the inside (ohhhhh, way too much alliteration there). 

Until next time, here's a link to some From the Fishouse (an awesome resource) audio clips--both interviews and readings--by wonderful the Portland poet, Matthew Dickman, whose work I recently fell in love with. More on him soon!

Ham It Up, or My Plea to Reading Writers

"When audiences come to see us authors lecture, it is largely in the hope that we'll be funnier to look at than to read." --Sinclair Lewis

Amen, brother. Readings--I hate doing them, and typically, I hate going to them (I know, I know, I'm a sinner). Why? The same reason I hesitate before seeing one of my favorite bands play. Who wants to ruin a good thing? Oh, "you wuss," you say. But admit it, doesn't it make you cringe a little to hear the recording of a once-dearly-loved song after it's been butchered by the artist in live performance? It's like comparing "before" and "after" pictures of Michael Jackson--you just want to scream "take it back! take it back!"

What's the point here? Oh right, readings. I'll admit I've been to some great ones (Salman Rushdie and Aimee Bender to name two) aaaand I've been to some truly dig-your-nails-into-your-knees-to-keep-your-mind-off-how-awful-this-is readings (I shan't name names). Then again, I'm also someone who doesn't think you can appreciate a poem until you see it on the page, so maybe it's just me wishing I could bury my head in a book and hide.

Back to the point again: Only the most devout fans (cough, parents, cough) enjoy watching a writer stare down at the podium, drone out words, and shuffle their feet for an hour. Yes, most likely a love for literature or maybe even your specific words enticed the audience to come, but now you gotta give 'em more than what's on the page...so that they'll want to buy what's on the page (circular logic, I know, but it's true). Hey, the hard part was getting people to show, so play it up a bit--be wise, self-effacing, coy, drunk, naked!--and they might even come back, or at least buy your beautifully crafted chapbook.

Now, in that light, a link to Kim Addonizio "covering" a great short poem by Dorothy Parker. A nice segue into her reading I think. (I swear I'm not totally obsessed with DP, life just happens this way sometimes, it's like internet serendipity... interipity... I take that back.)

Experience

Some men break your heart in two, Some men fawn and flatter, Some men never look at you; And that cleans up the matter. Dorothy Parker