Residency

Happy MLK day. I hope most, if not all of you, can have a bit of a holiday, on this a celebration of one of the greatest men to ever live.

As I said on Friday, I'd keep this brief, and basically catch everyone up to speed on what happened over the two week period where my retelling of Nutcracker Prince occurred.

This last portion had to do with my MFA program and the twice a year residencies that I attend. Unlike past residencies, this one was quite low key, going to bed at normal hours, still fighting off my sickness, bringing in the new year by playing Rock Band, and watching such films as The Triplets of Belleville, Godzilla: Final Wars, and The Big Lebowski. The true highlight of the whole thing came in the fashion of being paired with an amazing mentor to carry me through this final semester as I scramble to finish my thesis/novel, and whip up an interesting lecture to give this coming summer. My mentor's name is Karen Gettert Shoemaker, and she is an unbelievably intelligent woman that I believe will do everything she can to push me through the final goal posts. Her collection of short stories, Night Sounds and Other Stories, is not one to be missed.
That's really about it this time around. No real drama or craziness.

And that brings you all back up to speed, and allows me to finally comment on my recent comings and goings. Gibberish tomorrow, with a special guest artist on Thursday, so be sure you check back--at the very least--for that one. I'll introduce her more thoroughly on Wednesday.

Have a good one.

Hiatus

I know I said that I'd ramble on about my residency biz while I was away, but I've decided that this is a bad idea. Not only will it be boring for you, but I don't have the time. Instead of shennanigans, I'm going to drop an entertaining.

I'm Going to Go Ahead and Be a Douche

Unlike yesterday, I do not mean this in a literal way. I'm merely speaking of being an A-hole, a jerkwad, a butthead.

I say this because, as I'm getting ready for my residency, I can't help but compare my work to the others in the same group as me. (I know, it sucks to be them.) And when I do, I think, Man, these people kind of suck. It's pretty much the truth. Douche that I may be for saying as much. I honestly wish that we could come to workshop and just say things like, "This sucks. What were you thinking? How about you find another dream?" Brutal as it may be, the ones being workshopped will just end up hating the bearer of bad news, not the news itself. Or, best case scenario--after someone decks me for saying that their work resembles the dribble emanating from the Teletubbies' mouths--they get so pissed, they think, "I'll show that douche. I can write better than... [insert favorite author here]" Then their dream will be renewed, and they will write the next Pulitzer Prize winning novel.

It's amazing what negative feedback can do for a person. I know. It happened to me. I wouldn't be doing what I am right now, if it weren't for the department head of creative writing that told me my story was "sentimental and juvenile." I got pissed. And what did I do, I thought, I'll show you, Douche. I'm going to keep on writing just to prove you wrong. While I have yet to win the Pulitzer, I have a publishing cred, have only one short year left for my Master in Creative Writing, and my novel is--ever so slowly--nearing it's finish. All of which might not have happened if that guy hadn't been such an A-hole.

So, I guess what I'm saying is Embrace the Douche Within Each and Every One of You. Be a constructive A-hole, and someone my end up loving you.

(Just as a heads up, tomorrow's post will come late--if at all--and next week should be a good surprise for any of you willing to check back. And my review for Hancock is live.)