Who knew there would be a summer hiatus? Certainly not me.
I didn’t finish any new stories –
but I finished this wall
I finished the second draft of my story collection:
I tried to finish the following books:
- The Kid, Dan Savage
- Of Beasts and Beings, Ian Holding
- Lying on the Couch, Irvin D. Yalom
- Fist, Stick, Knife, Gun, Geoffrey Canada
- Broken Harbor, Tana French
- Blood Meridian, Cormac McCarthy
- Let’s Pretend This Never Happened, Jenny Lawson
- Candor, Pam Bachorz
- Guts, Kristen Johnston
- A Visitation of Spirits, Randal Kenan
- Why Be Normal When You Can Be Happy? Jeanette Winterson
- A Complicated Kindness, Miriam Toews
- Kindred, Octavia Butler
- The Body of Jonah Boyd, David Leavitt
I actually finished these:
- Are You My Mother? Alison Bechdel (this is a graphic novel)
- Official Book Club Selection, Kathy Griffin (this was an audio book)
and 4 seasons of Breaking Bad:
Normally, I am able to finish books. Not this summer! But Breaking Bad is twisted and fucked up and streaming on Netflix, so you might want to check that out if you like dreams about meth mouth.
In other news, I just got confirmation that I’m headed to AWP in March. A cappella Zoo is hosting a magical realism and slipstream event, and I’ll be reading with a few other writers whose work I’ve long admired. I’ve given papers at conferences before, but this feels different. This kind of thing aligns with a wish so deeply buried that I didn’t even remember it until the invitation came a few months ago. When you look up which events have been accepted, my name is on the same page as Alison Bechdel’s and Jeanette Winterson’s.
I’m not Jeanette Winterson or Alison Bechdel. But my name is in the same document. That’s all I’m saying. If I die tomorrow, I’m pretty sure that’s the kind of name dropping that gets you past the guards.