Philadelphia Stories Weblog

Let’s start with a confession: I’ve never read anything by Rainer Maria Rilke. When all of the hip kids in graduate school were exchanging knowing glances and speaking the author’s name as if it explained everything, I played along and pretended to know what they were talking about, but in all honesty, I didn’t. In fact, I didn’t even know whether Rilke was a man or a woman, alive or dead. All I knew was that the author was apparently at the center of a sublime cult, the members of which were transfixed by the beauty of his (or her) work. They spoke as if reading Rilke was akin to being touched by the hand of God. Either you got it or you didn’t. Unfortunately, I suppose, I didn’t. Upon reading Michael Allen Cunningham’s Lost Son (Ubridled Books 2007), however, I’m beginning to wish that I had.

Lost Son is a work of historical nonfiction that examines the emotional and intellectual development of the author in question–and does so beautifully. From the opening pages, the reader is transported to turn-of-the-last-century Europe, and Cunningham does a wonderful job of depicting Rilke’s world in a strikingly visceral fashion. When Rilke arrives in Paris on a cold and wet winter day, it’s impossible not to feel a chill. More importantly, Rilke emerges from the narrative as a complex figure, and his early efforts at writing a biography of Rodin prove both amusing and insightful… At least to someone who’s never read Rilke.

Clearly, this novel is well-researched and written with passion. Cunningham, in other words, is one of those guys I used to play along with back in grad school — nodding and pretending to have joined the cult when I actually had no clue. And, I should add, I still have no clue. Maybe one day when I find the time, I’ll read some Rilke. In the mean time, I have to content myself with Lost Son. All told, not a bad deal.

I guess it is only fair that I discuss this subject at least once. I am going to be honest; I haven’t done any real research on the subject or anything. I only have my opinion on it and that is what I am going to share with you today.

The way I see it, blogs are important for both the readers and the writers. Blogs are on-line journals that give their writers instant gratification that they are being read by someone. It is far too lonely to write something that you think is great and told time and again that it isn’t good enough. A blog is a forum in which you can say how you feel and others who are suffering from the same affliction can join you and rally with you.

Writers, no matter how much they want to say on the contraire, put a piece of themselves in everything they write. It might be a small strand or it could be a loosely veiled autobiographical piece, but either way a writer’s life is in their work. Since I feel that blogs are on-line journals, then it is extremely important for fans to read their favorite author’s blog. It will give you a better understanding of the writer’s life and what they are thinking in their heads. You will get another piece of the puzzle that will help you solve the why in a story.

Since blogs can be about anything, it helps people get things they have been thinking a place to go. I actually lost a lot of weight by writing everyday on a blog. It was like my confessional box. I would write about how long I went to the gym, what I did when I was there, and how much weight I lost. Sure, it wasn’t all out in the public like most blogs (I didn’t want people I didn’t know seeing me as a fatty), but the encouragement I got from knowing people were reading my blog and rooting for me helped me stay on track. I knew I would be held accountable for not going to the gym or eating that Tastykake, so it really helped me.

Simply put, blogs are on outlet for everyone. They are an on-line journal that you can determine what you want it to be about and how public you want to make it. For readers, they give fans a daily dose of their favorite author and help readers understand their favorite authors better. As for writers, it can help newbies get their name out there and for an established writer, it can give them a way to reach all their fans quickly (a lot quicker then a book being published).

The publishing world is changing. Blogs are pushing new writers on the scene that may not have had a chance to be discovered so quickly. Maybe someone who never even thought about writing a book sees the importance of getting their material and their voice out into the writing and reading community. I’ve said before the book, as we know it will never die; but I do believe blogging will help us create more readers and more writers.  

Well, I have good news and bad news. What would you like first? You want the bad news first? Okay, well, I didn’t write four essays yesterday. I know you are disappointed in me, but wait until you hear the good news. I reworked my Barbie story until I couldn’t see anything but Pepto-Bismol pink and I even sent it out to a magazine. I am sure it will get rejected. I guess I am in that mood today. You know the one where everyone hates you and you should go eat worms (Man, I loved the Kids in the Hall).

I think that maybe I am forcing myself way too much and because of that I am letting myself down. It is like I am giving myself impossible goals and then when I don’t meet my totally out of reach goal, it adds more fuel to my negativity. Let’s look at the good stuff I did yesterday. I reworked my story and sent it out. It has been like what a good two months since I have tried to put anything out there? Also, I did write one essay yesterday. I could have just packed it in after the Barbie one was done, but I stuck with it and wrote something else.

Here is the real reason I am pushing myself so hard. Unless you have been living under a rock, you know that on October 18^th, Philadelphia Stories is having their second annual writing conference. There will be so many people who can open so many opportunities that I just want to have something in hand to show them. Also, I am opening the open mic portion of the day and I just want something great and wonderful and fresh to read. Maybe if I read the coolest thing in the planet an agent might be like, “Yeah…send me your stuff” or maybe an editor from a publication could be like, “That was hilarious. We need to publish that now. Send it to me”.

I was so dumb because last year when I was there (I was the girl with the red plaid heels) I didn’t bring anything with me. Here were all these editors and I was just sitting there looking at my empty hands. Talk about someone missing a golden opportunity! As I look back, maybe I wasn’t fully developed into the artist I want to be and maybe that was why it was so difficult for me to walk up to someone with my story and say, “Is this crap”. But the again, I am a writer and I can twist anything to make it into a positive light.

This year will be different for me. I refuse to let opportunities smack me in the face and just roll over and take it. I want to be armed with something great. So, here it is, roughly twenty-ones day until the event and I seriously want to be in my second draft of a great book. I gave up teaching to become a writer, not this pile of coke zero, blood, and bones that I am now. I just want my former students to know, again, I didn’t become a looser…I became a writer.

Come on Yoda, help me out!

Ugh! I didn’t write yesterday. I was planning to…I really was going to write. But then I got another invitation to a bridal shower for the same person. I was confused because what is the proper rule here. I already sent the one gift out because I couldn’t go to the first bridal shower. But, I can go to this one. So, what? I just show up empty handed? I couldn’t do that. So off I was to Bed, Bath and Beyond to buy another gift. I get there and they print out the “this stuff wasn’t purchased yet” list and it is only three pages. Of course all the really expensive stuff is left on the list and I am already annoyed, so this just makes me even more upset. So, I am forced to put down another two hundred dollars.

I want you to realize that I am not a cheap person (even though that last sentence totally sounds like I am). If I were working and bring in money, I would have purchased the whole registry. This is for the bride of my male cousin. Although I haven’t been around much of his life, I really do love him a lot. I would seriously do all that I could for him. I guess it all boils down to me just being upset that I am not working and I am annoyed that I can’t do all the things I want to because I can’t find a job.

After coming home with another negative two hundred dollars, I didn’t really feel like doing much of anything. I tried to read a book. I tried to will the Phillies to win. I tried to take a nap. Nothing worked for me. Even Yoda closed his Dagobah world because he knew there was no talking to me.

Here it is day three of my memoir writing and all I have to show for it are two stories that are only three pages long each. I have already started fixing them in my head. My goal was to write two stories a day and get the basic outline done. Then, I would start editing two stories a day until the book is where I want it to be before I start sending it out to an agent. I am already behind and that upsets me, too.

I am trying to motivate myself. I think the first thing I will do is rework my Barbie story. Maybe get that to the point where it can see the light of rejection. Then, I just have to write four stories today. It shouldn’t be all that difficult because I am just recalling the past. But, my luck, I’ll check my email five hundred times, go on facebook another five hundred times, and drink seventeen cans of coke zero. Yoda is looking at me and he is smiling. I wonder if he thinks this is amusing or if he is just trying to pass gas.

I know…I know…I should be writing my memoirs. But I couldn’t help it. I needed sugar and my favorite tea. Also, Tuesday was such a nice day that there was no way I was going to just sit inside chained to my computer. I just had to go on location.

So, I grabbed a notebook (but I also went to an office supply store and picked up pens and legal pads) and I headed out to my local bookstore. I started looking through the writing periodicals and I picked up Writer’s Digest. They had the issue devoted to agents and I thought that was pretty cool considering Philadelphia Stories’ Second Annual Push to Publish also has some agents represented and a workshop on the importance of having an agent.

The article looked pretty good. They explained the basic premise behind having an agent and they also gave tips on the top ten things not to do when approaching an agent. All of this was pretty basic stuff and not a lot of detail. I saw the article as a good starting off point in learning about agents.

Well, they also gave a list of 28 agents who are looking to work with new writers. My mouth dropped when I saw two special names. Jamie Brenner and Adam Chromy from Artists and Artisans were listed. I was first like hey…hey…I know those names. How lucky and fortunate are we that these two people listed in the article will be at the Push to Publish event!

It is like I said before; the writing world is a big and small world. Paths tend to cross. I am so thrilled that they agreed to come to the conference and it was more exciting to see them mentioned as agents looking to work with new writers. That is just the thought process behind the whole conference…pushing yourself to get in touch with the people and places you need to in order for you to get your work out there.

Here is the website with the article if you would like to read more about this subject http://www.writersdigest.com/article/28-agents-who-want-your-work/.

Also, if you are interested in learning more about the Push to Publish Event or would like to register, go to www.philadelphiastories.org.

I’ll see you there.

So yesterday, I was totally pumped after making the decision to venture into the world of memoir writing. I started writing an introduction to the book that will become the memories of my parents. I won’t lie to you; this memoir writing is not as easy as you would think. How hard could it be to just sit down and recall memories and write them down? Well, when they are memories of dead people, it is difficult to hold back the tears.

Then I start thinking, am I doing the one thing I warn everyone else not to do? Am I using my life to gain some notoriety? Am I really ready for people to look at my memories and judge them?

Honestly, I am not. I had a tough life, but who hasn’t? I don’t really think I am so special that I should be putting my memories out there yet. I do want to write them all down before I start to really loose the little memory I have of my parents. What if some day my nephew comes to me wanting to know a story about his grand mom or grand pop and all I can remember are the facts? What if someday I have a child and he or she asks me the same question? Facts do not explain a person; they only detail what happened.

Although it never happened often, story time was always a very precious time for me. I would listen to anyone tell me stories about my dad. So what if they involved him peeing in a dresser draw because he was too tired to understand he wasn’t in the bathroom? He died when I was nine and I only have a handful of memories. Stealing someone else’s memory of him seemed like the only logical next step for me.

I am not ready for the world to see my parents. I am not too sure if I am even ready to take a walk into the past and say hello. I was crying while I was writing the introduction; I can’t even imagine what tapping into those long suppressed memories will do to me.

I will write them down. It has always been in the back of my mind to do it and in a small way, I have taken the first step. I don’t have the strength to do it all at once. The world can’t make enough tissues for that to happen.

I will continue to write the memories one at a time. Also, I am starting to work on really writing down my strange observations. Last night I wrote, what I thought was, a hilarious piece on the break-up of the century (Barbie and Ken). I will use this week to really polish it up the best I can and then I am sending it off. A rejection letter is imminent.

Heaven forbid we should toot our own horn, but we here at Philadelphia Stories are very proud that our own Christine Weiser has just had her first novel, Broad Street, published by PS Books.

The first thing I noticed about Broad Street, is the cover. Hot pink with an iconic Roy Lichtenstein-esque illustration of a woman in a blue evening gown rocking out on a bass guitar, the artwork struck me as fresh and bold—more Mexican wrestling poster (and I mean that in a good way!) than staid book cover—which, it turns out, makes it the perfect match for Weiser’s fresh, bold literary voice.

The novel opens with the recently-single protagonist Kit Green making a drunken pact with her friend and partner in crime, Margo Bevilacqua, to start an all-girl band with the express purpose of pissing off the musical men in their lives. From here, the novel is a roller-coaster ride through the ups and downs of life in the independent music scene. As the author’s bio notes, Weiser herself played bass in a Philly girl band called Mae Pang back in the nineties. The experience obviously left a lasting impression, for all of Kit’s struggles come across as genuine and heartfelt. In short, the woman has walked the walk, so she knows exactly what she’s saying when she talks the talk—and this fact comes across on every page.

While the Philadelphia music scene circa 1994 provides a brilliant backdrop for this novel (and Weiser imagines that setting vivdly), Broad Street is about so much more than Kit and Margo’s adventures in the music industry. It’s about their individual struggles to find their respective places in the world at large. Indeed, it’s a quest for identity. Both women desperately want to declare independence—from the men in their lives, from their families, from the dead-end jobs they work just to make ends meet—and in so doing, to emerge fully into adulthood. And if they have fun while they’re doing it, then so much the better!

Bottom line: Broad Street is a great, fun book about coming of age in the often seedy and always exciting world of rock ‘n’ roll. Imagine the women of Sex and the City strapping on guitars, and you’ll get a sense of what it’s all about. The perfect survival guide for anyone considering a career in the music business.

Click here to read an excerpt from Broad Street.

Or order a copy of the novel today at Amazon.com or Powell’s Books.

Check out Broad Street’s launch Party at the Tritone night club, 1508 South Street in Philadelphia, PA, on Saturday, September 27 at 8 PM!

Perhaps it is the writer’s curse, or maybe it is the thing that keeps an artist humble, but I never see myself for all the good others see in me. I am reminded of those lyrics in that song, “Waste of Paint” by Bright Eyes that goes something like: thanks for thinking I created something worthy of praise, but nothing good comes from me; therefore, your compliment is wasted on me.  Why do we do this to ourselves?

I never see the positive in myself; I only live in negatives. I take things that are not normal and twist them in my mind so I can justify them as normal. For about five years, I had this nice golf ball sized growth in my neck. Never once did I think it was anything but normal. I mean, doesn’t everyone get golf ball sized tumors in their neck? Well, it turned out my golf ball was swimming with cancer. I am fine now…but my point is, I just take clear abnormal warning signs and justify them as normal.

You are sitting there thinking, what does this have to do with writing? First, just indulge me a little…I am feeling a bit philosophical. Second, it has everything to do with writing.

The other day, I was sitting with an old/new friend (we were great friends in high school, then we both just stopped talking, the power of facebook reunited us) and she point blank asked me why don’t I just write essays? I took a few minutes with that question because it held so many other questions. The only one that kept repeating was, “yeah, why don’t I write essays”?

I have been struggling with my short stories. I write them and then I wonder if they are too immature or if they just plain suck worse then a hungry piglet. Like I said in my other blog, all story lines are the same, it is our voice that makes them different. So, why don’t I use my voice and the way I see the world and my place in it and just talk about that?

Simply put, I don’t see the forest for the trees. I look for signs everywhere and here was this big one screaming, “Yo…over here…write essays…write your life story”. I just kept ignoring it because I think my life isn’t so special and seriously, who would want to read about me?

Again, I misread the sign and I am diluting the importance of my life and its lessons. So, keeping all that in mind, I am going into the world of essay/memoir writing. I have no idea where to start or what section of my life to pinpoint as the springboard, but for that I’ll look to one of my heroes, Augusten Burroughs. I was always amazed how willing he was to share his life with the world, and now I am slowly following his path.

As always I will keep you in the loop of how things are going. I am not saying I will never write another piece of fiction again; I am just saying I am going to try this new genre on. Beside, Tina always asked me to write my story and now maybe I finally have the guts to do so.

This is a piggy back blog on Beth Kephart’s blog about what others are calling the end of publishing (http://beth-kephart.blogspot.com/).

Like Beth, I won’t stop writing either. I refuse to believe that the publishing world will become a small elite group of two that only the top names will get a pass code to come in. People will always want books. Sure, with the advanced technology, there are books for your IPOD and that dumb e-book thing. I am sorry, my friend has one of those and I think it is the dumbest thing in the world. So what if he gets to carry around 150 books in the palm of his hand! I am not one to want to stare at a screen for four hours or more at a time. I can read a book in a day and there is no way I want to sit there starring at a small screen. Besides, what if I want to highlight something or mark off a cool phrase? How can I make a comment in an e-book? A book will never run out of “juice”. How frustrating it must be to sit down on a park bench with your e-book thingy all set to read when suddenly you realize your battery is about to die! Lastly, I love trophies. Every time I read a book that really means something to be, I find it in hardback and display it on my bookshelf. Books are my trophies.

That is why I refuse to believe that the publishing world is imploding. Sure, it has its problems, but I just think writing and books withstand trends. Computers make the writer’s lives easier, but how much would you be willing to pay to have notes written by your favorite author about their book in their own handwriting? I still carry around a journal with me and write down notes in my own hand even though I have my light as air Macbook computer.

I am not a writer for the money. I am a writer because I want to tell my story and the stories I see in my head. I want Sam and Mark to be proud that this crazy woman who has infested herself in their lives has become the thing she wanted to become. I want them to be able to walk into a bookstore or pull up a website and see my name and know that it is okay to follow your art. I want them each to be able to hold my words in their hands and be able to hear me speak to them when the time comes and I can’t (I think I am dying when I am eighty and like a small skateboarder will run me over). I want my dad to look down from Heaven and see his daughter’s books being sold. Again, I don’t write for money. I write to create a trophy for the entire world to hold in his or her hand.

Is it hard to get published? Yes, but nothing in this world that is really worth it is easy. We can’t just give up and let technology destroy books. We must continue to write and at whatever cost, continue to fight to be published and be heard. 

Although I will admit that I do hate E.E.Cummings (yes, I even capitalize his name…that is how much I hate him), I will give him props for the way he manipulated language. In his poem, “In Just” he combined words like  “Mudilous” and “Puddlewonderful” to describe the world and what it looks like in the springtime. You won’t find these words in the dictionary, but to abstract their meaning, all you need to do is use your mind.

Recently I read the book, Dogrun by Arthur Nersesian. Many moons ago, I read another book by him. I don’t recall liking it or not liking it. I guess because it didn’t really leave a lasting impression on me, I never really sought out any more of his books. However, I was in the bookstore the other day (I know, me in a bookstore…how odd) and I saw this Dogrun. The back cover explains the book as one day a girl comes home and finds her boyfriend is dead watching TV. Sure, finding dead people may not be so uncommon, but the main character was only 29 and her boyfriend was in his thirties. Of course the book was set in New York in the East Village and I am so glad to report that this was not a chick lit book. There wasn’t a she gets published and lives happily ever after ending. The ending fit the book and I was happy that Nersesian stayed away from many cliché-ic subplots.

What I really admired about the book was the writing. The language and the metaphors used to be more specific. Like e.e. cummings (I am being nice now), Nersesian puts words together in a surprising refreshing way that really helps the reader get a feel for the action taking place. In one instance, Nersesian describes a busy signal as a “traffic jam”.

The book had many more wonder word choices, but of course, me being the lazy reader that I am, I didn’t highlight them. See, I do have this friend that I send my used books to and I didn’t want to highlight the book and mess it all up for her. Also, yes, I didn’t want to stop reading the book to go grab a highlighter.

I am going back to the bookstore to look for another one of his books. This time I will carry the highlighter over with me so I won’t miss out on the great nuggets of word combinations. I do suggest that you take yourself out and find this book as well. Read it and report back to me. Maybe we could make a list of all the cool phrases we find (sorry, that’s the eternal teacher in me talking).