I am Officially Published

On the topic of poetry, I am now published.  It is my first time in a publication, so I am excited about it.  Case Western Reserve University has an undergraduate literary magazine, called the Case Reserve Review.  I chose to send them two poems to choose from and they chose one called the Dead of Winter. You can view it online by following the link and scrolling down to page 16.  Check out some of the other fine young authors and artists as well.

If you are an undergraduate, I would encourage you to submit.  When I got my copy of the issue I was printed in, I was a little dismayed at the fact that editors were published alongside others.  I will say that knowing they have only a small program for writing put my mind at ease a little.  The other works are good and I am proud that they chose me to be in the book.

If you've already been published, I'd love to know about it as well.

Renewed Vision

Since i began this blog, a few things have happened to me, both personally and as a writer. I have joined a fraternity, broken my ankle, rented an apartment. I have met great writers and poor writers, and developed a passion for poetry. Yes, poetry.

When I started this blog, I envisioned my future solely in the realm of novels. I had grand ideas modeled on novels I had read, on movies I had watched, never stopping to think that maybe, I had a future in other forms if writing as well.

What the BFA degree in Creative Writing has allowed me to do is foster a love for poetry, and to develop a taste for the short story. I credit wonderful professors at Bowling Green for developing thus love. Theresa Williams brings her profound love of language and deep understanding of poets and their bodies of work to her teaching. She allowed me to realize how to approach poems in my own way and appreciate even the most difficult of poets. Dr. Jennifer Chang, who has studied under Charles Wright, brings her love of the contemporary and excitement for young poets into the classroom, allowing her to critique poems as though she were reviewing a published collection. She recognizes the students and engages with them in discussion much in the way Theodore Roethke would, fostering a love of the craft through a conversational manner.

On the fiction side, Dr. Wendell Mayo has enhanced my love for the craft of fiction. His workshops focus on one element of craft, leading discussions and directing comments through that element. Last semester, it was point of view. This semester, it is structure. This focus allows the class to see multiple examples of ways to handle structures. We ask whether a story needs to be changed based on whether that change would better the story and why. I, for one, have learned to refocus my critiques not based on my own preferences, but what would enhance the piece as a whole.

One of my problems with short stories has been trying to end them. Often, I would get to 15 pages or more when I was only shooting for half of that. Now that my journey in this program is almost over, I find myself with the opposite problem. Which is a good thing.

I guess to sum this up, I'm a writer, in multiple senses of the word. I attribute that to my experiences in the writing program. I'm a poet, short story writer, novelist.  If you, dear reader, get a chance, I encourage you to do the same. I don't expect you to fall head over heels in love with poetry, but there are elements, such as word choice, that go a long way toward effecting other aspects of your writing.

Flash Fiction Friday #1

Amanda gradually slowed down as she took her last few steps.  She placed her hands on her knees as she bent over, body heaving as she regained control of her breathing.  The trail to Burtman's Ridge was only two miles long, but the sloped, uneven surface added an extra challenge to the feat.  Amanda didn't notice this, however.  A thin veil of sweat dampened her skin, adhering her sweatpants and t-shirt to her body.  When she caught her breath a little, she unzipped the hoodie to about halfway, letting the crisp, morning, fall air reach her core.  She took off the hood and removed her ear-buds.


A water bottle was tucked away in a small drawstring bag that Amanda always carried when she jogged.  She took the bottle out and greedily took in a third of the contents.  She wiped her mouth on the sleeve of the hoodie.  The bag also contained a phone.  She pulled it out and the message light was flashing.  Probably her boss.  His calls had come almost every hour for the last two days.  Amanda knew it was because she hadn't shown up at work for the past two days.  Work just seemed too unbearable lately, so she quit going.  Life, in fact, was unbearable.


The edge of the ridge seemed so inviting to Amanda.  She walked over to it, placed her toes over the edge.  The view was clear all the way down the quarter-mile drop.  A small canyon of rock was home to a trickle of water that used to be a nice-sized river.  The river was diverted and a dam put in place so that this was what was left.  Still, this place was beautiful.  The ridge was the best viewing spot of the sunrise for miles around.  A lone picnic table had been placed in the center of the clearing Amanda was now, thought she had never seen anyone use it.  This was her favorite jogging spot.


Amanda inched forward, so half of her feet dangled on the ledge.  She tottered slightly, shifting her weight from the back of her heels to her soles.  Jumping wouldn't be so bad.  Who would miss her?  Her dead parents? The non-existent sibling?  She had no friends of mention, no relationships with anybody really.  Nobody would miss her.  She decided to jump.  She took a deep breath and began counting.  One, two... a noise behind her stopped her.  A young couple approached the crest with a picnic basket.  The man had prepared a surprise breakfast on top of the ridge, to let the new sun be a backdrop to their meal.


Smiling meekly, Amanda stepped away from the edge and took another swig of water before replacing it in her pack.


"Oh, hello," the man greeted.  "Beautiful day isn't it? Don't let us disturb you.  I just thought it would be fun to surprise my fiancée with a picnic up here.  I just love the view."


"Your fine," Amanda replied, not meeting eye contact.  "I was just leaving."


She checked her phone again.  Another call from her boss.  She packed it away and put the pack on.  She zipped up the hoodie and replaced the ear-buds.  The jog down was always easy and Amanda planned to take her time on this one.  Oh, well, she thought, as she jogged away.  I think I might just go to work today.  Might as well, nothing better to do.

Procrastinators Anonymous

My name is Jon and I am a procrastinator.

I have been such for as long as I can remember.  Elementary was easy, I could skate by easily on minimal work. Middle school was the same way and I made it through there with nothing lower than a C.  In 8th grade English class, all the students read a short book entitled "The Cay."  Basically, an older Jamaican man and a boy on vacation end up in a raft and wash up on a small Caribbean island.  They have to work together to survive their predicament.
When the class finished the story, we were given three or four weeks to complete one of a variety of projects.  I chose to create a model of the island the story took place on because it seemed to be the easiest.  Time passed and finally, just before dinner the day before the project was due, I decided to gather the materials to start making the model.  My mom decided with my time restraints, the sequel project would be better.  I had a conflicting band concert that night, so it was around eight o'clock before I got started.  In 5 hours, I had completed the sequel and left it up for my mom to edit for me.  She read what I had written and knew it was an A paper.  In fact, it received a perfect score.

Then, as a sophomore, my final English project dealt with poetry.  It was a book of original works, with a couple of examples of printed authors, Each page was to be fully illustrated.  I had written most of the poems by the night before the project was due.  All I had to do was type them, format them, print them, color each page (about 25) in fully, and assemble it into a book.  I think I started about 3:00, broke only for a quick dinner, and finished by 5:15 the next morning.  Since I had to be up at 5:30 anyway, I didn't feel it was wise to sleep.  This would be my first of a few all-night performances during my school career.  This project was A+ work also.

I have had other experiences with this also, but I feel those best illustrate my problem with procrastination, namely that it works.  Sure, it is a struggle to finish sometimes.  I leads to a lot of stress and negativity.  In fact, my overall grades could reflect that.  There were times that I was doing just what I had to to pass a class, but then, there were problems with lower than expected grades on those projects I had chosen to do.  Still, I have been a big advocate for procrastination, until recently.  I felt the adrenaline rush was what was getting me through.  There is no doubt it kept me focused.  I didn't have time to let my focus shift from my work.  I would "complete" a project in time because I had no other choice.

I say "complete" because in reality, they were not, something my parents loved to point out.  "If you are doing this kind of work in such a short time," they would say, "imagine what you could do if you took your time with it."  I have begun to agree with them.  Last week, I mentioned a story I had submitted for writing class, and how I was thrilled with how impressed I was with the class as a whole.  Well, it was that story that absolutely convinced me something is not write in constantly using procrastination to accomplish tasks.
Because of time constraints, I was absolutely forced to cut that story short.  The end didn't come together correctly, and in fact, I found out after the fact that there was a significant character reassignment, but a couple of stray mentions slipped through and confused the readers.  In addition to that, I didn't have time to edit the piece as well as I would have liked, and I am unsure if I left in grammatical errors, one of my biggest problem areas.
I have shrugged this feeling off before, but I haven't been able to this time.  I feel bad.  I have not represented the best of my talents, yet these people, not knowing me or my writing, must now judge my work based only on what is presented to them.  In addition, I have done this more and more with the pieces in my writing group, because they are familiar with my writing, and if it doesn't get edited fully, then, oh well, they know this isn't my best work.  So now I am using procrastination to feel lazy.  I maintain that procrastination and laziness are separate, but the first can lead to the latter if not careful.

In conclusion, I have now decided to focus on limiting my procrastination, especially in my writing.  As a profession, laziness will not fly in the writing world.  Since my procrastination is turning into such, I need to work on spacing out my writing so I finish in a comfortable time frame.  This may even lead to more projects, because if I get stuck on a project, I can work on a different one without having to worry too much about the deadline on the first.  I have one week left to edit this piece and re-submit it for a grade.  If I get it done by Friday, I could even get the edited version submitted to my writer's group for our meeting this Sunday.  Here's hoping.

If you find yourself waiting until the last minute to do things, and feel it may be getting in the way, simply start small.  Start doing whatever it is, maybe just a day later.  If it is multiple items, focus on getting one thing under control.  The next thing should be that much easier to undo.  If this doesn't work, set micro-goals.  Put daily goals into your cell phone's calendar setting.  Set reminders, multiple if you can, that you need to reach a certain goal by the end of the day.  Stick with it, and in time, it will get easier.

Until next time,
Jon

P.S.  This Friday I plan to make the first of a weekly Flash Fiction Friday post.  I hesitate with "Flash," though, because knowing me, I don't write short.  It could end up being the first of a multi-installment story.  I hope you guys will enjoy.

Writer's Block

Writer's block is a phenomenon that will at some time or other affect even the most mundane writing tasks.  It can be as simple as not wanting to write because it entails negative news that will not be pleasant to deliver.  It can be as complex as a report, essay, or story, that just simply cannot translate from the mind to the cursor.  Whatever the cause for it, stress for the writer is almost certainly the result.


A few months ago, I had a bad case of writer's block.  I would open a document, sometimes fresh, sometimes a work in progress.  I would sit at the computer and just stare at the cursor, getting lost in the blink.  Inevitably, I would stray from my project onto Facebook or Netflix, among other sites.  It wasn't just at the computer, either.  It was at work or during chores, times when I would generally turn myself on autopilot and let my mind drift to imagine all sorts of things.  I simply could not write.


This went on for a while.  Days turned into weeks, and eventually six of them had gone by without any successful attempts at writing.  It was a devastating time for me.  I wanted desperately to write, but to no avail.  It put me in a sour mood.  I had things to do to get ready to move away that I just put off.  I wasn't having as much fun with friends as I normally would.  Video games just didn't have their same appeal and with music, I couldn't find anything I wanted to listen to.  I became detached from the world just as my ideas had detached from me. 


You know, after re-reading that last paragraph, I realize now that what I described sounds similar to depression.  I guess it was, in a way.  Not being able to write, for somebody with a passion to do so, takes a great amount out of them.  It really is a dreaded feeling that I hope I will never come to again.  So how did I get over my writer's block?  I stopped thinking about it.  Really, I had accepted that I wasn't able to write at that time and stopped trying.  It was while sitting in front of the television I had my "aha" moment.  I had filled my life with too much of it.


The quarter had ended at Columbus State and summer had arrived.  A big change was in front of me.  Instead of filling those extra hours I was no longer utilizing for school with something structured, I let my attention span be consumed by the television.  It had consumed me.  I know my last post was in favor of television, but I am a strong believer that there can be too much of a good thing.  Television had suffocated my creativity, so I turned the power off.  I turned my attention towards getting the things done that needed done and left the remote in its basket.  After a while, when I wasn't thinking about it, I had an idea, a fix, for my novel in progress.  The fountain of inspiration began to build slowly, but it grew until it was like it never happened.


So what am I trying to say?  For me, writer's block was a horrible experience, but I came out of it with a lesson.  I am now wary of excessiveness.  Perhaps you, dear reader, are in a similar situation.  Look and see if there is something, anything, that possibly you are doing in excess and cut back on it.  I'm not saying that there are not other causes for writer's block, but this is the solution that worked for me.  If you have gotten over writer's block in a different way, post a comment explaining your experience.


Certainly, I still watch television.  I still strongly believe in the inspirational side of the drama that takes place on it.  This is not a call to sacrifice the things you care about in order to write.  It is simply an explanation of my ordeal with the subject.  I found a solution and now I can write freely again.  


I wish I could sit and write all the time, but I fear that might just be too much of a good thing.

Come Together, Right Now...

I submitted a piece of short fiction last Monday to be critiqued in my workshop class for that Wednesday.  I must admit, I was wary of the experience with this group of people.  There had only been one workshop day before mine.  Maybe it was first day jitters, but it seemed like only positive comments were making their way into conversation, when certainly there were other opinions than just the ones being shared.

The piece I submitted was an old idea that never flourished into reality, but the idea was solid and could be hammered out into a medium-length short story (you must know that medium is the shortest I write).  It wasn't what I was going to submit when I first volunteered to go on Wednesday, but it should have been easy enough to finish if I worked diligently enough.  I didn't.  I let a full week go by without truly working on the idea, so I rushed to finish it by my deadline.  I felt bad that I had to summarize the ending, but late in the game I had no other choice.  It turned out a disaster.  I knew it was crap as I was writing it, but I didn't have the time to flesh it out.  I decided, though, that this may work out to my advantage.  I used this writing fiasco as a test, to see whether or not the class was critiquing to their full ability.  It turned out better than I hoped for.  The class did bring up the end as a concern, though certainly not to the extent I thought they would.  Between the one page written critiques, which we all must do for each other, and this discussion, all the concerns I had were addressed and then some.  It gives me hope for the next 15 weeks of class.

Certainly, the experience is different from my writing workshop at Columbus State.  It was a unique dynamic that naturally worked to bring about deeper debate and criticism.  Since this class is longer, I do think that given time, my current peers could come close to this atmosphere of comfort.  There is a variety in our styles of writing.

If you have never experience a workshop for yourself, and you write, either as a hobby or perhaps more serious, you need to try it.  Find a group, or a class.  Put your work in front of others who share a similar passion for written word.  I guarantee you will come out a better writer.  The comments and concerns are invaluable in fine-tuning your work and stimulating ideas to further it.  The same goes for all artistic mediums.  Even if you are just reading, find a discussion group to talk about it with.  Even more practical mediums like science and medicine, politics, etc. have similar support groups to encourage self-growth and the overall growth of ideas.  Peer groups are great experiences when like-minded people come together to share their thoughts and ideas for each other.

Get involved, bloggers and readers.  Share your passion with the world, and you might just be surprised at the amount of world that shares your passion.

Reading and Writing

No Arithmetic here.  Today, I want to focus on reading as a writer.  What are people's opinions on this?  I know some people think that reading a novel inspires them, but I disagree.

 In my creative writing degree, this semester alone, I have 12 novels to read fully. 12!  Isn't that a little excessive?  As a child, I was instilled with the love of reading.  My parents bought me all kinds of books which allowed me to expand my imagination.  I read all throughout my elementary education and even into middle school.  I think it was probably around 8th Grade when I stopped reading purely for pleasure.  Why? School.  As students, children are required to take English classes.  In those classes, reading becomes educational.  We dissect a novel on a chapter by chapter basis.  We have to read on a specific time-frame, for fear of not being prepared for a test.  If we fail that test, the result is poorer grades, which relates to our GPA, which colleges look at for admission.  So we are now being forced to read to better our education.  Doesn't this take something out of it?  Maybe I'm just out of practice.  I do still enjoy reading, just not always those authors I "should."

So... why do I not enjoy reading as a writer?  Isn't it important to keep up with what other creative minds in the field are doing? Look at what is working, what is not, what is selling, and what is not? Maybe.  But for me, its not the competition, its the inspiration.  I look, in the things I see and do, for something to inspire my ideas.  I want to set myself apart as a writer, be original.  I cannot, in good conscious, write something that lends itself to a particular idea, sentence, feel, or structure, of another novel.  So if I can't write down an idea, because I've already read it, a creative vein is closed off.  Soon I feel I would be limited in my ideas. This is just my rationale, please feel free to disagree.

You may ask: Jon? What about movies? What about television? Aren't there storylines here too?  Of course there are.  Television programs are based on a concept.  The original writer writes a pilot.  This pilot is one hour, or a half.  Producers then buy the rights to this concept, then keep creating similar plots based on the characters produced in the pilot.  These serialized stories are basically each the same.  A novel is simply just not structured in this way, so I do not feel cheapened by ideas claimed while watching them.  Same with movies, the simplified plots in the visual images are just not the same as written plots.

Certainly, my ideas are not all gleamed from "boob tube."  There are many various inspirations for my work.  I listen to music while I write.  The sound of the music actually helps me get into a particular mood to translate that mood onto the page.  People's conversations, lectures in class, artistic mediums, all lend themselves to my work.  I just feel hindered by reading novels.  I just hope that people will read mine someday.

Alright, that's today's rant.  Thanks for listening.