A World Like This

Trying to not retreat

Blue sky, painterly white clouds. What do we do with a world like this? Birds sing, yes, but they can’t read the news. Everyone who can read the news has gotten less, less, what? Less exterior. The world outside our lives has lost its luster and that drives us inward. Take me for example. I’m always Alice, falling. It’s just a matter of whether the marmalade jars on the shelves I pass by are full or empty.

I spend too much time in my home and I want to get out more. Some things I like best are being in comfortable clothes and reading, writing, doing puzzles, and watching screens. Also, napping. All well and good, but there’s a world out there, not to mention steps. I’m off the hook until spring springs, which it hasn’t here in NY, in any consistent way, but then I must venture. Even if it’s just errands, it would be a good.

I mean, I go to the theater, and to events, and a few talks or readings, so it’s not like I don’t get out, I just like staying in, so I do. A lot. And I want to break out of it some. I guess I’m talking about it here as a way to be a bit accountable about it. I’ve always been a bit of an indoor cat, often because of a big writing project, but I think the world being so foul these days has only enhanced the tendency.

I’ve been working on a few things but mostly a book of short stories possibly to be called, “Green Is Dead,” which is also the title of one of the stories. That titular story is coming out in StoryQuarterly, which may be why I am favoring it in this way, but it also lets you know what the book is about, which is grief and change. Another story about someone losing Green is coming out in Five Points, soon. I’m thrilled about both—it took a big haul of rejections to land the few acceptances.

About the theme of my stories, around this time last year, my therapist of many years fell ill and soon after, passed away. It felt sudden. I was stunned, and missed him. So, in the stories, I made up a bunch of other people who were stunned and missed him too. And of course, they all have problems, since what gathers them is that they were seeing a therapist to deal with something. The world isn’t clamoring for short stories, but this book might be special enough to get made. We’ll see.

I’m teaching my two session nonfiction class starting this week, Sundays April 19 and 26. I always look forward to it. Most people who sign up have a project they are working on, or just thinking about. I find it fun helping people figure out how to go forward with what they have got, usually towards a book. After many years of helping students write theses, and many years of publishing nonfiction, I think I have a knack for it. People who don’t have a project at all at the start of the class sometimes end up with one. All are welcome.

The class is not a workshop. I invite the class to send me a page or two about their project, and I write back by the following Sunday. So the first class is a lot of information on all stages of writing and publishing nonfiction, the second class is similar but by then I know the projects of most people in the zoom room and I can speak more directly to the issues people need to talk about most. There’s still time to sign up!

Well it’s a few days later and spring has finally, definitely, sprung. Last evening, Jessie and I went to a reading/meeting of a nonfiction group, about six people briefly presented their books and took questions, and while content was very much of interest, the group’s focus is on process, how’d you get the idea and how’d you know to run with it, how was the process getting a publisher, and perhaps most of all, how’s it doing? I don’t tend to know many people there, but the group meets four times a year and feels a little like community. It meets in the EastVillage, and I used to live there and loved it, so was nice to be back, especially with one of my kids.

Before the reading, Jess and I stopped at a little restaurant across from Tompkins Square Park and sat outside. We didn’t have too much time so just had small plates. I had the beets with goat cheese and walnuts, which I enjoyed tremendously, and Jess had chicken fingers, less of a hit but still good. The people watching was as fun as ever.

The political world, I’m afraid, is too much for me. I’m at a stage where I can’t believe the world we are living in is real. It still feels like my job to know something about what is going on, but trying to talk about it here ends up silencing me lately.

But I missed you so I thought I’d say hello and tell you what’s going on with me. Anyone else out there challenging themselves to get out and do more, now that the weather is cooperating?

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Okay sweets and tarts, noirs and neons, dreams and dreamboats, I am as always honored that you stopped by. Love you. Come join the class!

Stay rowdy, stay busy, stay with me, get a bit of writing done, and I shall return to encourage us again.

love,

Jennifer