Over the past few weeks, I have started revising and rewriting my work-in-progress, a love story/conspiracy plot set during the 1928 Democratic National Convention, here in Houston. Much of the work involves restructuring my plot and getting rid of material that served as back story, but that doesn't need to take up real estate in the actual novel.
Last week, I headed to the microfilm room in the basement of Fondren to read past issues of the Houston Post and Houston Chronicle. Working on a historical novel presents its own challenges, but I love that when I get stuck, I can go to the records for that day to see what actually happened. If it rained on Monday, I can turn a leaky roof into a plot point. Extra tickets to the rodeo available? Send a character to retrieve them.
But what I really love about researching this novel are the random tidbits scattered throughout the archives. Newspapers in the 20s resembled sincere tabloids, lively and bizarre. On one day, the reporters couldn't get a statement from a son of a prominent official, so they reprinted his refusal, along with the reporter's commentary: "Mr. Blair is 21, and when a man is 21 he has a right to express his opinions as a man among men."
You can't make this stuff up.
Along with dozens of these little one-liners, I found a picture of a house that represented the "typical" "Colonial homes of moderate cost which have been constructed in River Oaks within recent months." For those of you who don't live in Houston, River Oaks is widely regarded as one of the most opulent, extravagant, and, yes, expensive areas to live in the city. It's also where my beat-up apartment is located, so I had to go see this house.
We plugged the address into our phones, and took a long walk last night. Most of the houses in that neighborhood are original, though some have been knocked down and replaced with even bigger mansions. But there it was—the house in the newspaper, almost 100 years old and still retaining to a large degree its original character. The trees in the front yard were massive; the house next door had an oak whose gnarled branches were supported by iron posts.
So much of the Houston of my novel has been torn down, replaced by highways or skyscrapers. It was amazing to see a part of it still thriving after all these years. We stood as long as we could, about twenty seconds, before the owners noticed us pointing and measuring with our hands and opened the blinds to look. We turned our tracks and headed home, my mind spinning with images of Gatsby-style cars and suits and cigarettes.
Tuesday, May 7, 2013
Friday, April 19, 2013
Live Tweeting—What is it? Why do it?
I've been recruited to live-tweet during the Millennial Medicine Symposium next Friday (held at Rice University at the BRC). Live-tweeting is more focused than regular tweeting in that it involves a group of people having a conversation around a certain topic searchable with hashtags. Over the past two or three years, academics increasingly have used live-tweeting during conferences, speaking events, and other site-specific gatherings to share knowledge and participate in debates. With university budgets cut year after year, we may not be able to attend as many conferences due to smaller travel budgets; live-tweeting helps engage scholars across the online community and to bring the ideas discussed at the conference to a larger audience.
Live-tweeting is also a great way to meet people, especially at larger conferences. I live-tweeted during MLA-Seattle and AWP-Boston and shared ideas with people sitting in the same panel (via Twitter). There were fewer people tweeting during the BWC-Albuquerque two weekends ago, but I similarly found people who share similar research interests.
If you've never live-tweeted, here's a round-up of links to help you get started. And feel free to join me (@AnnaSaikin) on Friday as we discuss what the future of medicine should be, and how we should get there—#MMed13
Links:
Live-Tweeting Best Practices — From Twitter Developers; gives basic overview and tips
Live-Tweeting: An Essential Top 10 Guide of Tips and How-tos —Covers basic tips and suggestions on how to make a successful live-tweeting session
12-step Guide on How to Live-Tweet an Event — Much like tips and how-tos, but covers before and after the event
5 Tips to Help You Live Tweet a Speech — Symposiums are different than conferences in that there are usually only one or two speakers during each block of time. How to live-tweet when you're listening to a more lengthy presentation
List of 10 Most Socially Awkward Examples of Live-Tweeting — Not all events were meant to be live-tweeted. Here are some examples of times when you should put the phone down.
If you have other suggestions, feel free to list them in the comments. See you there!
Live-tweeting is also a great way to meet people, especially at larger conferences. I live-tweeted during MLA-Seattle and AWP-Boston and shared ideas with people sitting in the same panel (via Twitter). There were fewer people tweeting during the BWC-Albuquerque two weekends ago, but I similarly found people who share similar research interests.
If you've never live-tweeted, here's a round-up of links to help you get started. And feel free to join me (@AnnaSaikin) on Friday as we discuss what the future of medicine should be, and how we should get there—#MMed13
Links:
Live-Tweeting Best Practices — From Twitter Developers; gives basic overview and tips
Live-Tweeting: An Essential Top 10 Guide of Tips and How-tos —Covers basic tips and suggestions on how to make a successful live-tweeting session
12-step Guide on How to Live-Tweet an Event — Much like tips and how-tos, but covers before and after the event
5 Tips to Help You Live Tweet a Speech — Symposiums are different than conferences in that there are usually only one or two speakers during each block of time. How to live-tweet when you're listening to a more lengthy presentation
List of 10 Most Socially Awkward Examples of Live-Tweeting — Not all events were meant to be live-tweeted. Here are some examples of times when you should put the phone down.
If you have other suggestions, feel free to list them in the comments. See you there!
Tuesday, April 2, 2013
Blogging through the Dissertation
Last month, the Chronicle of Higher Ed posted an essay on how blogging helped one grad student in the humanities finish his dissertation. The comment section is filled with both supportive and condescending remarks—some in the digital humanities praise bloggers for helping to share the work of academia outside the Ivory Tower, while others were more inclined to say "the lady doth protest too much."
Although the writer, Maxime Larivé, claims that the blog should be related to the student's research, to me his argument seems valid no matter what the subject of the blog. (No surprise there—the topics on this blog sway wildly from academia to creative writing to everything under the sun.) I have found that my biggest problem while writing the dissertation has not been the research or the arguments—though these have been plenty challenging. Rather, its keeping the momentum of writing moving forward, which, coincidentally, is also the advice my advisor gives me when we run into each other in the hallways. "Are you writing? Keep writing!"
The point of writing a dissertation—the first draft, at least—is to demonstrate that you have the chops to write a monograph-length work of original scholarship. But those 200-odd pages do not come naturally. Blogging, and the sense of community that comes with it, keeps you honest. When I'm writing here, I'm usually also writing there. If the well dries up, it's that much more difficult to sit down in the chair again.
For the record, I'm not the only one in my department blogging. When I first started blogging, a senior grad student (now an assistant prof at an East Coast university) kept a personal blog where she wrote about her personal life with a bit of research thrown in. Tim Morton, a faculty member at Rice, is a prolific blogger—he frequently liveblogs guest lecturers, and posts several times a day.
Though blogging might not be for everyone, I do think that it as some value, even if you can't turn it in to your committee. If it helps write the dissertation itself, I say, go for it.
Although the writer, Maxime Larivé, claims that the blog should be related to the student's research, to me his argument seems valid no matter what the subject of the blog. (No surprise there—the topics on this blog sway wildly from academia to creative writing to everything under the sun.) I have found that my biggest problem while writing the dissertation has not been the research or the arguments—though these have been plenty challenging. Rather, its keeping the momentum of writing moving forward, which, coincidentally, is also the advice my advisor gives me when we run into each other in the hallways. "Are you writing? Keep writing!"
The point of writing a dissertation—the first draft, at least—is to demonstrate that you have the chops to write a monograph-length work of original scholarship. But those 200-odd pages do not come naturally. Blogging, and the sense of community that comes with it, keeps you honest. When I'm writing here, I'm usually also writing there. If the well dries up, it's that much more difficult to sit down in the chair again.
For the record, I'm not the only one in my department blogging. When I first started blogging, a senior grad student (now an assistant prof at an East Coast university) kept a personal blog where she wrote about her personal life with a bit of research thrown in. Tim Morton, a faculty member at Rice, is a prolific blogger—he frequently liveblogs guest lecturers, and posts several times a day.
Though blogging might not be for everyone, I do think that it as some value, even if you can't turn it in to your committee. If it helps write the dissertation itself, I say, go for it.
Monday, March 4, 2013
VIDA Count, Redux
This morning, the 2012 VIDA count went live. For those that haven't heard of this organization, VIDA counts the number of book reviews, reviewers, and articles in various nationally distributed magazines written by men and women in order to quantify the gender disparity in publishing. The count is now in its third year, and this year's results are largely the same as last year's: in most publications, male contributors outnumber female contributors 2 to 1.
Various reasons for this disparity have been proposed—an implicit bias against female writers; fewer women submitting their work; fewer women who respond to solicitations. I think the answer is complex (as these things tend to be), and the roots of our current situation are deep. Though some publications have responded quickly and with intensity to this problem—including one of my favorite literary magazines, Tin House—most have ignored the call to change.
The count doesn't surprise me in the slightest, as disappointing as it is to an aspiring creative writer. The publishing climate in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth century was much the same as our own: opinion makers denigrated female writers for publishing literature that was not as "important" as that written by men. Those women writers who were successful were considered to be morally loose and were subject to personal attacks. Women can be muses, but not active members of the literary community.
Of course, we all know this is hogwash. Popular (or public) opinion rarely reflects the actual operations on the ground. All the same, this is where we are, and we have a long way to go. All we can do is keep submitting—getting our work in front of editors is the first step—and keep buying work from writers, both men and women, who we respect.
For those of you going to AWP conference in Boston, you can join the conversation during the VIDA panel: Saturday: 1:30 – 2:45 pm
Numbers Trouble: Editors and Writers Speak to VIDA’s Count (Jennine Capó Crucet, Don Bogen, Katha Pollitt, Stephen Corey, E.J. Graff) Room 208, Level 2: Panel S198.
And if you're going to AWP, let me know!
Various reasons for this disparity have been proposed—an implicit bias against female writers; fewer women submitting their work; fewer women who respond to solicitations. I think the answer is complex (as these things tend to be), and the roots of our current situation are deep. Though some publications have responded quickly and with intensity to this problem—including one of my favorite literary magazines, Tin House—most have ignored the call to change.
The count doesn't surprise me in the slightest, as disappointing as it is to an aspiring creative writer. The publishing climate in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth century was much the same as our own: opinion makers denigrated female writers for publishing literature that was not as "important" as that written by men. Those women writers who were successful were considered to be morally loose and were subject to personal attacks. Women can be muses, but not active members of the literary community.
Of course, we all know this is hogwash. Popular (or public) opinion rarely reflects the actual operations on the ground. All the same, this is where we are, and we have a long way to go. All we can do is keep submitting—getting our work in front of editors is the first step—and keep buying work from writers, both men and women, who we respect.
For those of you going to AWP conference in Boston, you can join the conversation during the VIDA panel: Saturday: 1:30 – 2:45 pm
Numbers Trouble: Editors and Writers Speak to VIDA’s Count (Jennine Capó Crucet, Don Bogen, Katha Pollitt, Stephen Corey, E.J. Graff) Room 208, Level 2: Panel S198.
And if you're going to AWP, let me know!
Monday, January 7, 2013
Frog It!
I've been knitting for ten years now. I've made sweaters, dozens of scarves, a couple blankets, and one pair of socks that promptly felted when I wore them in the middle of summer with my cowboy boots. But even experienced knitters make mistakes.
Sometimes it's a missed row in a pattern. Sometimes it's a purl stitch instead of a knit. However big or small the mistakes are, sometimes there's only one solution: you have to frog it.
"Frogging" a piece of knitting happens to us all—it means ripping out the knitting until you reach the stitch where the mistake originated. Once the stitches are repositioned on the needle, you can start over again to fix the mistake and keep knitting.
I resisted frogging when I first started. It took me so long to knit an item—I almost didn't care when my sweaters were three sizes too big or when my cables went this way and that. I still don't like it very much, but now I know I will be happier in the end if I fix the mistakes rather than plowing full steam ahead.
Sound familiar?
Writing, especially when you're a beginner, takes FOREVER to get it right. When I started writing seriously, I didn't want to undo any of my mistakes. I wrote on and on—sometimes 80K words long—even though there were mistakes that I needed to fix early in the draft. I just kept going. And sometimes in writing, unlike in knitting, the right choice is to move forward before going back.
But sometimes you have to frog the draft. It's not pretty, it's not fun, and you'll likely have a tangled mess before you're through, but it's worth it. Editing, rewriting—all worth it!
Go forth, write, and if you need to, frog it! There's at least one person on the Internet who feels your pain:
(You can almost hear her crying in the video! So sad!)
Thursday, January 3, 2013
New Year, New Resolution: 2013 edition
I'm going a bit off-topic for today's post—in 2013, I'm going to develop my fashion style.
When I told Husband and BFF this as we drove back from our New Year's Eve party, they laughed. Husband, because he thinks resolutions are silly anyway, and BFF, because she knows how much I LOVE to go shopping. Ha.
Both of them have known me for almost ten years, and in that time, my style has evolved from Undergrad Punk-ish to Grad Student Hobo. If they went into a mall and were asked to pick out something they thought I would wear, they would come out with low-cut jeans (bootcut, boyfriend, or skinny, depending on the season), a t-shirt (Size: Youth L), and Converse shoes. My mom would probably be more generous and pick out a breezy cotton hippie shirt like the ones she's been trying to get me to wear for 20 years (not happening, Mom!) They wouldn't need to buy accessories because they know I only wear my wedding bands and matching sapphire stud earrings, and I always make my purses or use my aunt's vintage bags.
Not original, but for the past ten years, it's been my comfortable go-to wardrobe for almost every event (save times when I need my interview suit, bought when I was 20, that has over-sized shoulder pads and a too-high waste that always pinches when I sit down).
Why change it now? For one, I'm increasingly attending professional events for which I need more professional clothes. The challenge is that my limited income means I have limited discretionary spending, and I've always thought of clothing as a "want," not a "need." Given the choice, I'd rather spend my money on books or craft supplies than clothes. Thus, when I have a meeting with the Dean, I can either wear the same dress I wore to the last meeting with her, or the too-small button-up shirt I found on clearance. Two: most of my "nice" clothes are worn out. Kaput. They have more holes than a moth-eaten sweater. Why do I persist in wearing clothes YEARS after their expiration date?
This has got to stop.
An illustrative anecdote—On Monday, I decided to take a day off from writing and go shopping at Dillard's clearance sale. When BFF and I finally found a parking spot, we battled the crowds to pick over the remaining items to try to find a bargain or two. I picked up one misshaped, funky dress, held it up to see if it would fit, and said, "Well, this isn't completely awful." BFF started laughing before I even realized what I had said. I had been looking at the price tag, not the garment itself, and if I had been alone, I likely would have taken it with me to the dressing room, maybe even to the cash register.
Moments such as these have made up my shopping habits for the past 5 years. I end up with a closet full of "not completely awful" clothes, hate all of them (of course—not completely awful is still pretty bad!), take them to Goodwill after trying to make them work for 6 months, and start over again. It's not a healthy way to shop, and it's got to change.
Don't worry; this isn't going to become a fashion blog by any means. But over the next year, I plan to write more about the challenges of remaking my shopping habits (and by extension, wardrobe). How does one make ethical purchasing choices on a limited budget? What does it mean to be more aware of your self-image in a culture with problematic signifiers of female identity? I'm not sure of the answers, but I can't wait to dive in.
When I told Husband and BFF this as we drove back from our New Year's Eve party, they laughed. Husband, because he thinks resolutions are silly anyway, and BFF, because she knows how much I LOVE to go shopping. Ha.
Both of them have known me for almost ten years, and in that time, my style has evolved from Undergrad Punk-ish to Grad Student Hobo. If they went into a mall and were asked to pick out something they thought I would wear, they would come out with low-cut jeans (bootcut, boyfriend, or skinny, depending on the season), a t-shirt (Size: Youth L), and Converse shoes. My mom would probably be more generous and pick out a breezy cotton hippie shirt like the ones she's been trying to get me to wear for 20 years (not happening, Mom!) They wouldn't need to buy accessories because they know I only wear my wedding bands and matching sapphire stud earrings, and I always make my purses or use my aunt's vintage bags.
Not original, but for the past ten years, it's been my comfortable go-to wardrobe for almost every event (save times when I need my interview suit, bought when I was 20, that has over-sized shoulder pads and a too-high waste that always pinches when I sit down).
Why change it now? For one, I'm increasingly attending professional events for which I need more professional clothes. The challenge is that my limited income means I have limited discretionary spending, and I've always thought of clothing as a "want," not a "need." Given the choice, I'd rather spend my money on books or craft supplies than clothes. Thus, when I have a meeting with the Dean, I can either wear the same dress I wore to the last meeting with her, or the too-small button-up shirt I found on clearance. Two: most of my "nice" clothes are worn out. Kaput. They have more holes than a moth-eaten sweater. Why do I persist in wearing clothes YEARS after their expiration date?
This has got to stop.
An illustrative anecdote—On Monday, I decided to take a day off from writing and go shopping at Dillard's clearance sale. When BFF and I finally found a parking spot, we battled the crowds to pick over the remaining items to try to find a bargain or two. I picked up one misshaped, funky dress, held it up to see if it would fit, and said, "Well, this isn't completely awful." BFF started laughing before I even realized what I had said. I had been looking at the price tag, not the garment itself, and if I had been alone, I likely would have taken it with me to the dressing room, maybe even to the cash register.
Moments such as these have made up my shopping habits for the past 5 years. I end up with a closet full of "not completely awful" clothes, hate all of them (of course—not completely awful is still pretty bad!), take them to Goodwill after trying to make them work for 6 months, and start over again. It's not a healthy way to shop, and it's got to change.
Don't worry; this isn't going to become a fashion blog by any means. But over the next year, I plan to write more about the challenges of remaking my shopping habits (and by extension, wardrobe). How does one make ethical purchasing choices on a limited budget? What does it mean to be more aware of your self-image in a culture with problematic signifiers of female identity? I'm not sure of the answers, but I can't wait to dive in.
Monday, December 31, 2012
A Toast to 2012
or, How is "Triskaidekaphobia" not trending on Twitter?
Last year about this time, I blogged about my goals for 2012. That post was the first time I admitted out loud my writerly goals (write, publish, rinse, repeat). It was a cheerleading-style post. I needed a pick-me-up, and I wasn't ready to commit to something I wasn't sure that I could complete. So I said that my New Year's Resolution would be to "write more!"
What I didn't write about was my real resolution: to make and stick to a submission schedule. With only a few rejections under my belt, I needed to amp up my game. I decided to submit to at least 5 literary journals a month, for 12 months.
Literary journals are different than academic journals. Whereas you can only submit an essay to one journal at a time (to give them time to send it to other academics for peer review), most literary journals allow simultaneous submissions. With most literary reviews publishing less than 1% of the submissions they receive, this practice allows writers the flexibility to send their work to a number of journals at once to hopefully speed up the path to publication.
There are a number of submission philosophies. Some writers send out their work in batches of 10, some have a revolving door philosophy (send some out, and keep sending em as the rejections come in). I decided 5 at time was a good number—its manageable, and I like being able to edit my stories as needed.
This goal presented some challenges. I had to grow a thicker skin (especially after I received three rejections in one day). And I had to write more—much more than I thought I could. Overall, the experiment was a success, even if I haven't received an acceptance yet. One slush pile reader wrote me an encouraging email with suggestions on how to improve my story. I've received some upper tier rejection letters, along with dozens of bland "no, thanks." I've revised stories that were getting lackluster responses, and I've got a couple "please submit to us again" notes tucked away.
The biggest gain was to my self-confidence. After submitting over and over again to literary journals, I finally decided to send out an essay to an academic journal. It was rejected twice, then received a revise-and-resubmit to a third. In the new year, I'll work on it and submit it again, with the knowledge that a rejection isn't personal—it is what it is.
I'll keep submitting in 2013—but that won't be my New Year's Resolution. That'll come tomorrow...
In the meantime, be safe, be smart. Wear your seat belt and if you drink, crash on your friend's couch tonight.
Then get up tomorrow and keep writing.
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