Steve and I are in a reading tonight for the super anthology THEY SAID: A Multi-Genre Anthology of Contemporary Collaborative Writing, at 7:30 at Green Apple Books on the Park in San Francisco. It will be fun (but difficult logistically because sometimes we trade off single lines) to read this strange essay we wrote together several years ago. There will be many great writers from the anthology reading also. (And readings with other great writers in many other cities to come.)
And next week I'll read with other Black Lawrence Press authors in the WTAW Series in Sausalito: Thursday, September 13, 7:15 pm, Studio 333, 333 Caledonia St., Sausalito. Rush hour's not a great time to drive there, but there's beautiful scenery, wonderful restaurants, if you can leave early. Since they put out my chapbook, I'm hoping to read some stories from THE MISSING GIRL that I haven't read before.
Stay tuned for information about the 100 Word Story event at LitCrawl in October (Steve and I will both be reading).
In an article about Georgia O'Keeffe I ran across this comment: “'It is difficult to see my new painting…It isn’t really of this country and it doesn’t exist for this place and it isn’t exciting.' Even so, she decided to keep at it: 'I think it will come,' she continued. '[Though] it may not be anything for anyone but me.'” Which made me think about this nonfiction flash sequence I just finished, which isn't exciting and maybe in the end may not be anything for anyone but me. Do we always seek emotional urgency in creative nonfiction? Maybe. But it was weirdly fun to write about mundane things in a flat voice. I'm edgy because the first place I sent it hasn't responded and I thought they would have by now.
Enjoying all the attention that "Pretty Girl" is getting on twitter, but my impostor syndrome has kicked in, asking how I could possibly deserve this. Some new readers of the chapbook have been praising it, and that's very cool, almost a year after it came out.