I am amazed at how reading helps my writing; doing something so enjoyable that furthers my goals, it’s like getting paid to eat ice cream. I am reading Maxine Hong Kingston’s The Warrior Woman and while I love the prose, I wasn’t sure if it would help me as much as the other memoirs I have read. I enjoy the similarity I found with other writers I enjoy, such as Amy Tan, as both she and Kingston explore the Chinese-American culture and create a bridge through their interpretation of being in the middle of both worlds. I also appreciated the author's writing, which reminded me of Gertrude Stein as you get to know about the narrator (author) through her portrayal of how others know and treat her as well as through her interpretation of individual family members.
I have been struggling to write a chapter that has bothered me. I know what I want to say and the first draft was definitely not it! It’s literally kept me up at night, unable to sleep because I couldn’t think of a metaphor to describe the oxymoron I am trying to develop in the story. I needed something familiar to the reader so that I can stretch it later, as Harrison’s writing does so well. And, naturally, since it’s CNF, it has to be true. Thankfully, at 2:30 in the morning, it dawned on me (you’ll have to read the book--ha ha) Kingston’s book sparked the memory that fuels the metaphor that now launches an entire chapter.
I am finding more and more connections with her writing, such as hunger fueling war (this lends ideas for my cannibalism themes). The Warrior Woman’s first chapter “No Name Woman” is tightly wound, beginning and ending with both knowledge and fear: it opens with the order of a secret kept, which is broken in the next sentence by writing about it. By breaking the secret, the story crosses further boundaries, as sharing the aunt’s story allows narrator to begin the multi-cultural scene that explores how family lore affects members of both past and present. Kingston uses the mother’s voice to underscore a daughter’s comprehension of two cultures, bridging the two together. All the information flows together seamlessly. For example, the idea of “brother” becomes intimate and sexually charged—much like an American version of describing the confused role of kissing cousins--so that the secret serves as both protection of family and connection with community. What the narrator can and can’t know about the “secret” leaves her with both knowledge and mystery. She can only know her aunt through her experiences, whether it’s family photos or female understanding about love and lust; therefore, as a reader learns the aunt’s story, the narrator’s is also revealed.
I especially enjoyed the irony that because the aunt is made a secret, her story lives forever, allowing form to follow substance. This technique is something I am trying to use in my writing, where the story is complimented by the sentence structure.
I have also consumed every one of Harrison’s memoirs (she has written three) and I read The Liars Club by Mary Karr—this was one of the best books I have read. I loved the easy prose that carried the blue-collar atmosphere with the most vivid details in nearly every sentence. Reading this was a feast: each page was full of the five senses that allows the reader to feel present in the story, which I am learning is no small feat! I have gone back and read some of my pieces that I took a long break from and have rearranged the prose to have both the voice of experience (so that it’s told in the past) and crisp detail (so that it is as Jess Row has taught me “as clear as you can possibly make it”). In particular, Karr’s description of rape was so precise it was heartbreaking. Her writing on two different assaults was specific and yet still permitted emotion because Karr didn’t describe it in hyperbolic sentences; instead each detail was flawlessly accurate. This is absolutely something that has helped me to understand the overwriting and, frustratingly, obscure details that I have struggled with. I look forward to the next workshop; I just wish I had another year to work on my submission…

Hello! I finished reading Kathryn Harrison’s The Kiss and am riveted. I love her strength and her prose is beautiful. While reading it, I noticed the metaphors she uses wind around one another. For example, her alienation takes on different forms: the settings are sparsely populated, whether they describe the places she meets her father, her grandmother’s household, or her college life. The isolation opens up the availability for another metaphor, where she is trapped like the bug she left fighting for freedom under the glass on the kitchen counter. The idea of a bug invading the home parallels her family’s secrets like an infestation they have resolved to live with.

Harrison’s control over her prose is maintained with authorial reflection that is matter-of-fact. She begins with simple sentences that are common to the reader and then manipulates that common ground to reveal a normalcy that is grossly adjusted, taking her experiences of abandonment and betrayal from sadly commonplace to shockingly horrible. The horror is not developed through hyperbole or a “this is what happened to me” attitude but a raw truth that allows the reader to experience their own emotions, leaving an impact much greater than the sum of facts Harrison lived through. Her writing has inspired a change in my own. After a second read to examine her writing style, I am beginning to learn what is wrong with my own and have begun writing without unnecessary dialogue and real truths that stretch beyond the surface occurrences to develop what I know and, as I believe all writers do, must tell. I find myself moving beyond what I know to say and writing what I want to say. That she had so much courage to write this book gives me the courage to write about things I have been hesitant to voice; however, I think that is one of the greatest things about CNF, that we can read about one another’s experiences and learn from each other’s ability to heal and forgive. I am absolutely going to write a critical paper on her writing, which has illuminated not only her book but the others I have read thus far as well.

Chris Hedges inspires

Hello! I have finished War Is a Force That Gives Us Meaning, by Chris Hedges. This was a very special book for me. It took me a while to finish because it sparked so many ideas about the direction I want to take my book, information I want to investigate further, and the importance of maintaining cognition about my own culpability as a military veteran.
Like all of my favorite books, I have destroyed this one by filling the margins and back pages with sentences, remarks and notes on topics that Hedges brings up, such as the awful allure of war. One of Hedges themes about the need to belong to something has greatly assisted me in creating my own piece on boot camp, which is centered on the idea of belonging through food, and I am ultimately trying to connect it to “foreign enemies'” need to do the same, so that my ultimate goal of the piece and future book recognizes that I (we) and the “enemy” are the same.
Hedges book has also helped me to further understand and articulate key points that I need to include in my own writing, such as the sexual perverseness that accompanies war. He states, “In the midst of slaughter the only choice is often between hate and lust” (167) and “war is necrophilia" (165). Keeping his words in my thoughts helps me to focus on images and metaphors that I want to portray. Throughout my writing I want to allude to the hyper-sexuality between soldiers, enemies, and even between a government and its portrayal of military members. I like the way Hedges continuously weaves previous themes into new paragraphs, so that the reader is not disconnected but instead he builds a steady arc to explore larger concepts as the book progresses. Writing my next piece, I have tried to incorporate this style instead of my idea to confuse the narrative to make a point, which ends up confusing me as well.
Moreover, Hedges nonfiction account of historical facts and first person observations reminds me of one of my favorite “war” books, A Farewell to Arms, with its relationships that develop in the heady acceptance of future battles and end with its passionless refusal to participate. Here, like Hedges suggests, war and lust are synonymous.
Finally, Hedges inspires and enlightens me to write angry, to not hold back, to tell the ugly truth, even when those truths are mine. Hedges includes Asadourian’s words: “You write because you have to. It all wells up inside of you. It is like a hole that fills constantly with water and no amount of bailing will empty it. This is why I continue” (124). I can only hope to continue with my writing and produce something of such great style, clarity, and relevance. Thanks Jess, I’d be lost without this and not even know it!
~C

Grasshoppers, Cannibalism and War (OH MY!)

Greetings! I have been working on two different writing projects. The first is a short piece/chapter that begins the cannibalism theme I am hoping to build in my book. I am researching cannibalism in a book by Peggy Reeves Sanday, titled Divine Hunger: Cannibalism as a Cultural System, which is a highly researched sociological approach that views cannibalism as a cultural ritual having nothing to do with physical hunger but, instead, used in different societies as a part of retaining social order through rules, fertility and myth. Interestingly, Sanday argues that cannibalism did exist in cultures, such as the ancient Aztecs, who did not suffer from hunger, but cannibalism did not exist in other societies that did struggle with famine.
The research is helping me develop a strong base so that I can stretch the metaphor in my book. Sanday’s notes and bibliography section is nearly as large as the body text and will hone my further research to the specific ideas I am attempting to convey, suh as cannibalism as a tool of sexual power evident in both male/female and male/male relationships as written extensively by Fitz John Porter Poole (as suggested by Sanday's bib and notes).
Additionally, I have been watching The History Channel's “Gangland.” The series has underscored my connection between the military and cannibalism, as large inner-city gangs have militant structures, recruiting practices, and are fed with concepts common to the military. Even more disturbing is the admission by former gang members that they refer to their victims as “food,” which connects my idea of cannibalism and war.
There are two other books that I am reading in doses: The Art of the Personal Essay and War is a Force that Gives Us Meaning. Joan Didion’s “Goodbye to All That” has sparked a personal essay that I have been writing in my head since Laurie Alberts’ lecture “Animals in Literary Prose.” During Albert’s lecture, I gave a description about torching a grasshopper. After I read my brief, hastily written piece, Alberts instructed that what people share about animals says a lot about their character, and she’s right, so I am exploring the reasons I torched a grasshopper one night, outside of the fact that they gross me out, based on innocence lost (an attempt at something like Diddon’s, I hope). I must add a disclaimer: I do not make a habit of torching anything, just one night, one hapless grasshopper, one disillusioned girl.
Now, I am having fun researching grasshoppers in my spare time, so that in my personal essay, knowledge of self follows knowledge of the insect, maybe like the obsessive cataloguing in Moby Dick, but on a smaller scale. I don’t know! I am just playing with this for now, but it is something that won’t go away. Maybe once I get it out of my head I can concentrate on my chapter. Ha Ha. I have read the first chapter of War is a Force that Gives Us Meaning, by Chris Hedges. It is amazing! This book is helping me to understand what I want to articulate regarding war's myths, attractions, and results. I love this sentence: "...the lie in war is almost always the lie of omission" (22).
Hope all is well with everyone!
~C

Angelhead and Tell it Slant

Hi! Sorry if I am behind on this; we are looking at purchasing a home. I finished Greg Bottoms’ Angelhead. It was fantastic! I’m very attracted to his style of fusing short incidences into a longer, complete narrative. This is something that I want to do with my book. I am thinking of studying his transitions for one of my critical papers (if that’s okay, Jess). I am also reading Tell it Slant. I am taking a slow approach with this book (I am only on the second chapter) because I really want to absorb all of the great instructions and concepts it provides. The first chapter talks about using the five senses like Sue Silverman has mentioned often. I am connecting Tell it Slant with Angelhead and focusing on Bottoms’ approach to allow a single idea to represent many of the senses as well as a larger metaphor. For instance, Bottoms uses electricity as a modern convenience, the sight of the living room anchored by the TV, its messages sounding throughout the house, his brother Michael smelling like electricity, which connects Bottoms’ idea of the modern world as a possible source of his brother’s illness. All of the smaller details fit together into a larger metaphor of modern consumer-based culture and the effects it has on society, as radically interpreted by his brother’s breakdown. These everyday descriptions lead the reader toward an empathetic view of his brother’s mental decline and his family’s struggle to handle it while attempting to maintain an “average-family” façade.
After reading these two books, I have substantially revised my piece “Screaming in Silence,” which, sadly, I am still working on a different title. To those who have read it, what do you think of “Voice Over” (which goes with the idea of a controller’s voice, a writer finding her voice, and an individual fighting to move from victim to survivor, regaining her voice)? Please tell me if this is horrible!
Back to the two books: I am trying to weave metaphors that fit together into a larger theme, like Bottoms’ book does, as well as focus on the small details that create those metaphors, like Tell it Slant instructs. My writing before had incongruent metaphors, but I was just playing with ideas, so these two books have really helped me hone on specifics (I hope!). Sometimes I think I could write this story for two years and never be finished; I guess that means it’s love!
Much love and creativity to all!
~C

Okay, ha ha...I misspelled healing as healings

I just finished Silverman’s Love Sick: One Woman’s Journey through Sexual Addiction. I wanted to jump into revisions as soon as I got home, but after starting to read Sue’s book on the plane I decided that I needed to finish it before approaching my own writing. Although her memoir is based on some different themes than what I am writing, there are similarities in her plot points, such as cannibalism, placing one’s self in danger for survival, and learning to use words as tools of healings. The way that Silverman weaves through various time frames is something that I need to work on. After reading her book, I recognize that my transitions are a bit jarring. Also, Silverman explains through the voice of experience, whereas I just cut from one thing to another without much reflection. I liked how she only used her first name once in the book. I have trouble using my first name, but reading her book has shown me that I really don’t have to unless it is germane to the story, such as hers is when she uses it to document her signature on a form. Additionally, I liked how Sue used her “unit” as a place of grounding for the plot and the setting. Reading Silverman’s book truly helped me to understand what the workshop was saying about leaving tears off the page and infusing more reflection. Now let’s see if I can put this all to use.
~C