1. Engagée
2. Passionate
3. Political in the service of humanity
4. Smart + strong
5. Deeply human, vulnerable + personal
6. Moving
7. Intriguing
8. Unapologetic
9. Openly self-critical + playful
10. Inspiring
In a world filled to capacity with team-playing fiction writers who mostly work at universities as tenured faculty, it was such a relief, such an extraordinary pleasure to listen to a famous writer speak boldly about what is most beautiful + most troubling in this world. She was critical, spunky, powerful, delightful, honest, inspiring, emotional at times but also so deeply human--Isabel Allende was everything that literary fiction writers aren't, can't + don't want to be + that's why I fucking adored her. She was a writer not living nor obsessed with the writerly world. She was free, the very opposite of diplomatic or glib. It was like she was channeling the spirits of her family into her words. It was part reading, part exorcism.
There's still hope for us. . .
1. I spent some time with TC Boyle on Monday where we talked about "Hipster Nirvana," a story of mine I gave him to critique that had been giving problems since I wrote it last year in Buenos Aires. Granted, I've revised + edited the shit out of it a million times since that first draft, + it's in much better shape than it was six months ago, but still, there can't be a better moment for any writer than when TC Boyle tells another one of this his students that you're a fine writer, or even better, when TC Boyle wrote in his critique that your story had moments of transcendent beauty. WTF? Are you serious? Did I just hear that right? Transcendent beauty? Shit, I'll fucking take that.
2. Kicking it in Aimee Bender's office listening to a recording of Flannery O'Connor read her story "A Good Man is Hard to Find." Something about that moment, the intense richness of O'Connor's voice + accent, Aimee Bender opening up her office to me + some other students, simply sharing the experience together, right before workshop. It was magical somehow
3. Kicking it with Keith at Astroburger where I ate one of the best vegan rib sandwiches + fries I've had in a long time, talking about black narratology, hip-hop, LA + girls. Also, we finally decided on a handshake--yo, that's important stuff man. How else are you gonna know how to greet your friends?
4. Discovering the Notorious B.I.G.'s "Ready to Die" only 15 years after it came out. Fuck, this is an amazing album. Hip-Hop doesn't get smoother/smarter/grittier/more real than this. I don't appreciate some of the misogyny, machismo + gun worship, but this album as a whole is fucking awesome. And don't take my wrod for it, TIME magazine rated "Ready to Die" one of the 100 most important albums of all time. By the time the glossies know what's up, this automatically makes something 10 years old . . .
If you can't make out the editor's note, it says:
Hello, Your story was interesting, but I felt like you focused too much on Gretchen being white--she's awful, certainly, but I don't see why race matters there. That being said-I loved the focus on words, and how you ended it. Please try us again soon with another piece.
Here's the deal:
While I totally appreciate the feedback + the honesty, the reality is that:
1. This short story is about race, class + love in Southern California. It even says so in my cover letter
2. The protagonist, Esperanza, a smart Mexican-American girl who doesn't fit in the white or the Hispanic clique, is trying to survive at a high school where rich white girls pretty much dominate. In the end, she falls in love with a Greek exchange student, which drives Gretchen (the rich, white girl) insane
3. There's only one line where the narrator overtly mentions race, when she talks about how rich white girls (especially in HS) hurt people because they can (a statement I still defend, with exceptions). And if race does matter in this story, I think it matters more in the way that being Latina in SoCal can be a huge obstacle to personal advancement. Sure, sure, any self-applied Latino can succeed, but he or she has to work so much harder for it than many white students from wealthy families who don't work half as hard. Latinos, remember, are the highest employed minority in the US. But when your parents don't speak English, or they don't speak it well, or they're working 60 hours a week, or when no one in your family has gone to college, that student has enormous obstacles to success. That's just a reality, not even a complaint really
4. Anyone who's spent time in SoCal--especially in high school--sees the blatant socio-economic rift between Latino + White Americans. It's slowly changing, but it's still a reality. My story doesn't blame white people because they're white, it shows how malicious an antagonist can be when she has money, influence + power (which, based on this country's history, is more often a white person but doesn't necessarily have to be)
5. Instead of shying away from things that make us uncomfortable (e.g. race, class, racism, gossip, jealousy) my story pretty much goes for it + tries to talk about big subjects. I'm sick of stories of paralysis, sick of stories that don't deal with the big issues, that are basically apolitical, antipolemical, self-centered little works of art that have no relationship with the greater world
6. Even if my story really did focus on race as much as the editorial assistant seemed to imply, which I think would have been totally fine, this story is above all else, a love story between a Mexican-American girl and a Greek exchange student, both of whom, use words to not only express their love for each other, but also to empower themselves in a country where English is a sacred rite of passage. Beyond that, this is a revenge story, where the less-than-perfect, precocious Latina takes her revenge on the thin, rich, white, school bully who hates the fact that all of her money + power can't buy the protagonist's boyfriend. The protagonist's revenge--love it or hate it--is the way she stops feeling like a victim
7. At the end of the day, Cornell West is right: race matters, at least to people that aren't white. Race matters less to white people because they're the majority race (percentage-wise), so when they talk about how we should just focus on merit, talent, skill, intelligence, voice, stuff like that, that's spoken hegemonically: the luxury to focus on our qualities becomes a way of differentiating us when we are racially + culturally the same. But since different people from non-hegemonic races are not only treated differently by white people, but actually perceive reality differently because of this, you can see how complicated all this gets. When a white person says to his black friend: you're so cool dude, I don't even think of you as black. This is a compliment coming from a white person because he's basically saying I see the universal in you, I relate with you, I connect with you + I don't feel like race is getting in the way. But for many people of color, this is racial erasure. It's like someone taking away a unique set of experiences that have shaped you, experiences fundamentally different than those of your white friend, experiences that are often painful, contrary to those of your friends + sometimes distressing too, but experiences that your friend didn't have that affect you a great deal, whether you liked them or not.
So, I apologize for this spiel, but I bring this up for one basic reason: when the good-intentioned editor says "I don't see why race matters in this story," the problem is that for many white readers, race has never had to matter, either in life or in a story--but this is white privilege. But for me (a hoppa who looks white + is treated white/latino all the time), race matters a great deal. Race has a huge effect on how I see the world + how the world sees me. So, when conservatives argue that there's little or no racism, say in the police department, they're not completely lying, at least from their point of view. They don't see racism because they're white, wealthy + connected, + they're not usually affected by it, so you can see why they actually believe what they say (of course, some don't want to see it either because that would be a personal indictment). Ditto with fiction. When minority writers or writers from minority cultures discuss so-called minority issues in their stories that are remotely racial, social or political, white readers + editors want to know why does it have to be about race, gender, orientation, politics? Why can't it just be about people? My answer: it is about people, but people that aren't always white (or straight, or male, or politically neutral) who are never able to forget who they are, whether they want to or not. Race (like other minority cultural identities) is an everyday reality, not some thematic obsession. This is something that's hard for white readers--even the best of them--to grasp sometimes.
Here are some things I learned about him:
1. No one knows how to make Aimee Bender blush more violently or more quickly than Jim Shepard. It's like a skill he has--making Aimee Bender embarrassed. I've tried it, but it's really hard. But this dude is a natural. He was joking about how he was going to tell us about her dirty sexual past + the next thing I know, her face is the same color as her V-neck (a bright, Hester Prynne burgundy). Later on:
--I've never seen you blush like that before, I said.
--Yeah, it just happens, she said.
--Wow. Crazy.
--This one time, I was being a little aggressive with one of my students + then I started blushing.
--It's like preemptive blushing.
--Totally.
2. Jim Shepard is really fucking funny. After my friend Lisa made a comment in class about how she wished Michael's story about alcoholic, illiterate cartoon characters didn't feel so cartoonish, Jim Shepard countered with:
--That's like having a character made of carrots who says I'm Carrot Man, and then someone says: well, I like this character but I just wish he wasn't made of carrots.
It's a strange thing to say, but in context it kinda makes sense. Only Jim Shepard would make up an example of a vegetable character announcing his name like that. Like You'd Understand Anyway is full of characters that introduce themselves to the readers in the beginning through self-intros: I'm Sparticus Andromicus, or the example I gave Jim in the hallway when I suggested he show up to his readings dressed like a trojan with a shiny sword in his hand: I'm Jimicus Shepardicus. His response: well, anything with a breastplate, really . . .
3. Jim Shepard is better at shutting up the grab-the-mic people in my workshop than Aimee is because he's unattached to his students, probably less sensitive + doesn't have to live with the consequences of his workshop conduct. He also had a strange way of treating the manuscripts in workshop like they were published stories, something they clearly weren't. This was a cool approach insofar as we were forced to find our own entryways into the story + discuss the real issues at stake--something we only tend to do once we're convinced a story is important enough. This was a wack approach insofar as it became way too difficult to actually critique the two stories, something they both needed. I'm not sure if this is because he's used to working with undergrads that are often more polite + happier at getting faint praise than grad students are, or if this is just how he rolls. But it was fascinating seeing his approach to workshop, though too constraining for my tastes
4. What I relate with most in Shepard's characters is the way his stories celebrate the brutal gap between what they want to do + what they end up doing. When I asked in the Q + A if this was a deliberate motif of his stories, he said it was, which relates to my final observation:
5. One of the coolest things JS said all night was this:
It's okay for a character not to know everything. Actually, it's almost important that he not. But a story has to be smarter than the narrator + smarter than its characters. Otherwise, the author doesn't own his defects + we don't connect to the characters because we don't see their flaws. We see the writer's flaws, which is always a problem even if unavoidable
1. He's reading at the New Yorker Festival next week + he's not going to bring his laptop. In fact, he never brings his laptop with him when he's on tour or giving a reading at a festival/conference. The only thing he brings are manuscripts, books he's reading for research + lots of clean underwear. For a second I thought he was telling me he's incontinent, but then I realized he just brings the important stuff. So let me repeat: manuscripts, books + underwear. Now that's a real author
2. He doesn't watch TV. Like me, he'll watch a movie on the Movie Classics Channel, an action flick at the theater or a DVD (because movies have a beginning + an end) but he pretty much avoids TV at all costs
3. He hates his cell phone. He never answers it.
--Let them call my agent, he said.
In fact, he told me he only brings his cell phone for emergencies
4. It's impossible to say something original to him. I mean, I've tried + it's just impossible. There's nothing this guy hasn't already heard, thought of or written + that really fucks with your mind after awhile. I find myself wanting to use more and more hip-hop slang because that's one of the only areas where I'm gonna represent.
--Yo TC, I'll say, let's throw up a burner on Hollywood + Vine that disses the alphabet bois. Maybe then we'll meet a bunch of bustdowns, ballas + buttafaces!
His response: neck-scratching + some mystified silence. And then I'd say: um.
I mean, there's shit I'm just figuring out that he's known for thirty years + I'm gonna have to try very hard not to try to impress him because you know what? It's just not happening. I can bring delight + intelligence + personal charm + lots of love to a conversation, but with TC Boyle (+ Aimee Bender, for that matter), you're not going to impress these people. That's their job, that's what they do effortlessly + they do it way better than you + they do it because they're not trying to impress you. They're being real, you're not. Ah, stupid defense mechanism. . .
5. TC Boyle used to take a 2-hour bus ride to SC for a whole year (each way) where, he explained, he would ultimately be the victim of racism. I laughed so hard when he told me that. I asked him if he'd ever written about his commute + he said no, not yet
6. According to TCB, if you call yourself a writer + you spend a year not writing + it doesn't bother you, then it's over. You're fucking done man. If you feel bad however, he explains, then that's a good sign
7. He tries to avoid email + the web whenever possible + only uses them for communication + research
8. We both seemed to agree that something has happened to Rick Moody's writing. I love early Moody (Demonology, The Ice Storm, Garden State). I feel ambivalent about his memoir + I just can't get into Purple America. The Diviners I'm willing to give a chance to (maybe more than once) if + when I finally get to it.
--I keep starting Purple America over again, I confessed, but I just couldn't get into it. It has something to do with all that stuttering + the computer voice just gets to me
--Yeah, he said, I've started that book several times now.
Our conversation about Rick Moody, who he's met only a couple of times, led to another one about the role of editors + agents. TCB feels like most editors don't really do shit, they just copy-edit. I dunno. At Hachette Books, I saw some of the editing that went on there + it seemed pretty extensive. Not only did some of the editors write out 4-10 single spaced pages of global suggestions to the author, but there were also several rounds of copy-edit exchanges between editor + author over the course of several months, all of which impressed me greatly. At the same time these observations were based on commercial + genre fiction manuscripts, so it might be very different with literary fiction. Additionally, I happen to know that by the time TCB hands in a manuscripts, he's already edited it so much that it's almost ready for print--a detail he's pointed out more than once. The sick thing: I totally believe it.
Another thing: TC Boyle doesn't like editors that try to rewrite stories for an author. I pretty much agree, though I'm completely open to suggestions like simple cuts + some touching up if it makes the story tighter or cleaner in some way
9. Being a persistent fucker, I asked him months ago if I could bring something in for him to take a look at since the administration screwed up + put his graduate fiction workshop at the same time as our required cultural theory proseminar. He said, --fine, just wait until the middle of the semester. So today I gave him a story. Though this is counterintuitive, I gave him one of my worst stories to critique. "Hipster Nirvana" isn't a bad story, because I have aesthetic pride after all--I'll revise a bad story until it no longer blows, then I'll revise it some more until it's decent, then again until it's good + again until it's very good--even so, it's still one of the worst stories in PORN + LOVE (my short story collection) for the simple reason that I don't know if it really works or not. Most of my stories I know, but this one I'm not so sure. I even admitted it to him that it's a B-side story. TC Boyle being TC Boyle, said he writes every story like it's his best one. I remember thinking, you would think that, punk.
Then, out loud I said:
--Come on Tom, paraphrasing Bakhtin, --the Ancient Greeks didn't know they were ancient.
--Yes, but they knew their grandparents were ancient, he said, chuckling.
--And I didn't know this was a B-side story until I was finished writing it, I said, which is the truth.
He nodded, which was about as much as I was gonna get from him.
Anyway, I know he's gonna critique that story really fucking hard + actually, I think that's exactly what that story needs. I'm planning on giving him one of my better stories next time, just to balance things out + pick his brain. I still have a lot to learn with plot + layering novelistic landscapes + publishing, but I can also tear shit up with some of my stories too. I'd prefer to give him a wide range + have him make up his own conclusions. He's TC Boyle, so we all know that's exactly what he'll do.
As I was gazing at one of the walls in his office covered by a million TC Boyle heads, all dutifully cut out from magazines, journals + book sleeves through the years + pasted in a lifetime achievement montage, I thought:
Fuck, this guy's the real deal. And he's had one bad haircut after another since the 70's
1. I met Howard Junker (the editor of the ever-great Zyzzyva) on the phone on Wednesday. Evidently, he liked one of my short stories I'd sent him only last week about a pepera that falls in love with one of her victims. It's called "30 Roofies." He told me a bunch of things, many of them mysterious + smart, some even flattering: he wants to publish something of mine in the spring; it may be 30 Roofies, it may not be, who knows; he wants something of mine hot off the press; he feels like 30 Roofies is good, but slightly old for my repertoire, but not wrinkled per se. He didn't tell me why he thought that though (I wrote 30 Roofies in the spring of 2008, so in a way he's right, but maybe he's been reading my blog). Anyway, of course I'm thrilled by this because Zyzzyva is the real deal as far as literary journals go, a fierce defender of emerging writers + Howard Junker has been fighting the good fight for 25 years, even standing up to other journals that have become too smug/slick for their own good--something I welcome frankly because it forces us to ask ourselves why writing matters. At the same time, nothing is set yet for me. So until he says yes Jackson let's do this, I look at his letter/offer as very promising for sure but not concrete. Not yet anyway. I think I'm going to send him a new chapter from my second novel that I recently started. It doesn't get fresher than that man
2. I gave my first public reading in LA last night at the Mountain Bar for USC's The Loudest Voice (along with my talented classmates Elise Suklje-Martin, Lisa Locascio, Jess Piazza + poet extraordinaire Mark Irwin).
Though my performance wasn't my favorite one by any stretch of the imagination (I mean, I actually messed up a few words + adlibbed more than once as I was turning the page), people seemed to like it a lot, which is always flattering
3. Mark Irwin, (who is one badass poet, not to mention a four-time Pushcart Prize-winner) came up to me afterwards + told me he really enjoyed my reading. Mark fucking Irwin, man. This guy's huge + has been published in every major literary journal + not once mind you, but repeatedly. Anyway, when a poet of that caliber, charisma + reputation compliments you, you do one thing: you fucking take it
4. I'm entering BLANK in the Bellwether Prize this Monday, a contest founded by Barbara Kingsolver to spotlight socially conscious fiction that speaks of the greater world around us + our responsibility to that world + to each other. It's gonna be hard to win that contest because there will be many fantastic novels, many of which will come from writers with impressive resumes + even more impressive apprentisage, but I still have to try. BLANK, despite its flaws, is a beautiful + important novel + it advocates human connectivity, social protest + collective responsibility as well as offer a critique of narcissism, doing so in a way that is important, ambitious + yet also tricky too for some agents to swallow. Wish me luck peeps. In this industry, talent is not enough. You also need lucky dice + an empty seat at the High Rollers Table to strike it big
You know, I think she might be on to something.
--You look exactly like you do in photos.
--So do you, he said.
I assumed he was being sarcastic.
My first conversation was a little less than a half an hour, but I learned a few things:
1. He's working on a collection of short stories right now and trying to promote The Women, so he's gonna be hella busy. But, he agreed to work me later in the semester to talk about my writing, which, in a way, is better than taking with workshop with him
2. He encouraged me to stop by his office and chat again, and offer I will absolutely take him up on
3. This dude is fucking smart. I mean, he really knows his shit
4. We both like the performative aspect of reading our stories, though, truth be told, he's amazing when he reads and I'm simply a novice compared to him. But, I've got my own thing, nevertheless and I'm comfortable and happy hitting the mic
Where I'm different than TC Boyle is that when I read in public, I'm trying to convince people that they should listen to me read whereas his audience already knows that before he says a word. He agreed. And when I told him that having an audience has made me a better writer, he was surprised. I get the impression that he writes for himself and picks the pieces he's going to read out loud based on what he thinks people will get the most out of. When you've got hundreds of stories to pick from, that's probably a little easier. Maybe I should think more about what the audience wants in my reading than what I like to read, but there's a stubborn part of me that hopes that if I'm into it, it will show, and the audience will be into too
Where I tend to think about this more is in terms of what I'm writing: ever since I accepted that I have a readership--no matter how minute but no less devoted--my writing improved because I started to make sure my sentences made sense. When I used to write just for myself, I wrote some terrible shit that could only have been written by someone trying to impress himself, literally proving to myself that I was a writer by acting writerly. But as I got older, once I'd accepted that I was a writer and that on some basic level I always write my own stories for me because I'm the only person that understands what I'm trying to do, but now, as an evolving writer, I also acknowledge the dialectical relationship my writing has with my idealized reader. Ever since then, my writing has gotten better because I've become more objective, which has helped me revise my stories. My artistic side is still crazy and ebullient, and the ideas still flow like meade in Beowulf, but my critical and editorial side is much better than it used to be, and this honed skilled has helped me learn to finish stories. I used to only know how to start the story, but now I'm learning to be a finisher, which is much harder for me. My sentences aren't less lyrical or ambitious, they just make sense on some objective level. I guess it's phenomenological in that way
The other possibility is that I still write for myself, but that my technical standards of what is good writing have gone up as I've read more and more good fiction and creative non-fiction and my revising skills have improved enough because of that. Who knows?
5. TC Boyle's work ethic is sick and it inspires me to commit to my profession in a complete and absolute way. Truthfully, I was always that committed (which is why I was sometimes a social outcast at Notre Dame), but seeing that kind of commitment in one of your favorite writers is still inspiring
6. Spending time with him is going to be difficult, but worth the effort. Fuck, I'll get in line
I remember the first thing she wrote on the blackboard, it went something like this: perfect execution is not the point of workshop. I had confessed to her that I kinda hate the game fiction writers play (myself included) where our first short story in workshop ends up becoming our manifesto, our place for creating first impressions. That first manuscript is almost always a declaration of talent instead of a confession of vulnerability. As writers, we hate being vulnerable, in part because we're vulnerable all the time. But there's something manipulative about trying to control what people get to see of you, especially since inevitably they will figure it out anyways. I don't have a problem with someone submitting new--and possibly kick-ass--stories for workshop they've never workshopped before. In a way, that seems to be the point, to workshop pieces you're the most excited about. But I do have a problem with people who submit stories of theirs that have already been workshopped and praised (major revisions notwithstanding), published, stories they submitted to get into the program they're now in, or more rarely, stories they know for a fact are simply radder than rad. I don't see the point of this, and that's why I really appreciated Aimee encouraging us to submit stuff that is raw but ready to be looked at (as opposed to stuff that is raw, but that hasn't been worked out yet). Workshop should be the place that you get helpful, critical suggestions for pieces that need output, not the place where you're constantly covering your ass so that people don't tear you apart. I'm glad Aimee Bender set the tone of workshop, and also glad, I guess, that she appreciated my honesty, because it embarrassed me a little bit. I'm not gonna lie.
I'm glad I'm in her workshop. Now, the question is, what do I have that's raw enough for this workshop.
Dear Mr. Bliss,
Thanks so much for sending along BLANK, which we’ve now had a chance to read. Although we found the concept compelling and ambitious, and were genuinely moved by certain of the novel's passages, I’m afraid that we just didn’t fall in love enough with the execution to offer you representation. Maria is therefore going to step aside so you can go ahead and find an agent who will give you the full enthusiasm you deserve.
Thanks again for giving us the opportunity to have a look and we wish you the best of luck. You clearly have a lot of talent as a writer, and we have no doubt someone else will feel differently about BLANK.
All the best,
Rayhane Sanders
Thank you for submitting your story "Chaos Theory." Though we liked it a good deal here, we think the story may be longer than it need be, and so we need to pass on it with apologies for having held on to the story for so long. We are sure that you will be able to place it elsewhere.
Sincerely,
J.T. Barbarese
Editor, Story Quarterly at Rutgers-Camden
Rutgers University
Department of English
Camden NJ 08102
I'm a ND alumnus (MFA 2007), committed Buddhist + football fan, and I wanted to write you and express my deep sadness and concern about Notre Dame's decision to endorse the BCS's flawed bowl format. Though this is ostensibly a matter for Notre Dame's athletic department to resolve, I don't think this is actually true in our case. As you know, Notre Dame is one of the only schools in the nation where all proceeds from BCS bowl payouts are allotted to the general school fund, instead of being earmarked for student athletics, so in a way, it's impossible to extricate ND football from the university and vice-versa. For that very reason, we should be supporting a bowl system that is fair, equitable + above all, compassionate, and the current BCS bowl system contradicts the university's mission of social justice by excluding many smaller and worthy schools that both need and deserve the right to compete in BCS bowls. Especially in this afflicted economy, the ability to participate in one of the four BCS bowls would make a crucial difference for many small, state-funded institutions of higher learning that have been forced to cut funds for professors, slash scholarships and grants, and overuse adjuncts.
I'm not arguing that Notre Dame give up its leverage as a legendary football program, rather, I'm asking you to use that leverage to fight for what is right in college football. I'm not asking you to destroy the competitive instinct in collegiate athletics either, simply open the field to all worthy opponents so that BCS victories are a product of grit, talent and chemistry instead of exclusiveness, manipulation, intransigence and greed. The truth is that as a BCS president, you have the unique ability to fight for what our university stands for, but right now you're--knowingly or unknowingly--supporting a BCS system that is both unfair, unpopular and--dare I say it?--uncompassionate.
Why can't we support a playoff system that allows worthy teams with excellent records to compete in, regardless of which conference they belong to or whether their conference is a power broker in the current BCS committee? Obviously, the AP, the Coaches Poll and the Harris Poll could still be used to vote for the top 8 teams--a process that is far more democratic than the current BCS system. Poll after poll reveals that a college football playoff is what the vast majority of football fans want because it would create a true postseason for college football, and it wouldn't have any negative consequence on the regular season or the bowl system (since the BCS bowls could be subsumed within any playoff system and the regular season would determine who qualified for the playoff system). On a practical level, ND would not be giving away potential revenue since we receive an annual disbursement instead of one lump sum; more importantly, we would be opening the door for any and all schools--no matter what their reputation, budgetary constraints, athletic conference afiliation or geography--to have that simple, basic right to reap the financial awards of a BCS bowl system that is currently rigged to favor specific conferences and specific powerhouses within those conferences. That's the real injustice with automatic bids, they help the same conferences who have voted time and time again to keep the system the way it is, because they're the obvious beneficiaries of this system. Last year, for example, the University of Utah had a perfect record against several top-notch football programs and they weren't even given the right to play for the National Championships (two teams with one loss apiece were) because they happened to be a member of the wrong athletic conference (the Mountain West). But look at the numbers: Utah's endowment is $594,545,000. Our school's is around $7,000,000,000. It's obvious which school would benefit more. But there are countless other talented teams with identical (or near-identical) records each and every year that are being excluded from BCS bowls, and certainly from the BCS championship bowl, simply because they belong to the wrong conference (that is to say, to a conference that doesn't have the prestige, or the ability to vote in the BCS presidents oversight committee). It's an outrage.
As a member of the BCS Presidents Oversight Committee, Father Jenkins, you can not only stand up for social justice in college football by making the postseason fair, accessible, transparent and moral, but more importantly, you can be the individual who leads by example. If Notre Dame opposes the current BCS system next year, other conferences will inevitably follow and the system will slowly change for the better. I realize this is an odd thing to email you about, especially since at first glance it appears out of your jurisdiction. But it isn't. You have a unique capacity to uphold the spiritual values of Notre Dame, a position that is placed upon you way too much, I admit. Nevertheless, you can help make the system fair, which means that all revenue that ND and other schools earn from participating in BCS bowls in the future, will be clean, morally. We should expect nothing less of our school, of our administration and of our athletes. I hope that next year you will consider changing Notre Dame's position on this controversial issue. Personally, I feel that we have been on the wrong side since the Bowl College Series was created. Like every other alumnus, I want our football program to be wildly successful, but I want our success to be achieved the right way. I believe most other ND alumns do too. Please consider changing your stance on this issue.
With Great Respect + Gratitude,
--Jackson Bliss, Class of 2007
p.s. Small related side note: thank you so much for inviting President Obama to speak at this year's commencement exercises. I know that to some, this was an unpopular move. But I applaud you for taking that position. It helped facilitate a necessary cultural dialogue not only on campus, but around the world that has been long overdue. As you know, President Obama cares deeply about social justice, community service and volunteering, healthcare for rich and poor, diplomatic mediation, conflict resolution, and he wants to reduce the number of abortions in America, and I think he has many areas in common with the Catholic Church, even despite the substantive differences that obviously exist. But those differences should never stop us from listening, advocating and participating in a respectful cultural dialogue. By bringing him to campus, you have helped that conversation take place. I admire you greatly for that.
Thank you very much for your recent query regarding representation for BLANK. The novel sounds interesting, and Maria would be pleased to have a look at it. Please feel free to send it along at your convenience, preferably via e-mail. If you choose to send a hardcopy, you may direct it to my attention at the address below, marked 'requested materials.' We look forward to hearing from you.
Sincerely,
J. N.
LMM
27 West
New York, NY
Rabih Alameddine, Monica Ali, Andrea Ashworth, Dennis Bock, Charles Burns, Pang-Mei Chang, Dan Clowes, Edwidge Danticat, Alain de Botton, Junot Díaz, Nathan Englander, Nuruddin Farah, Jonathan Safran Foer, David Francis, Maureen Gibbon, Paul Griner, Daniel Hecht, Aleksandar Hemon, Mia Kirshner, lê thi diem thúy, Amin Maalouf, David Masiel, Jane McCafferty, Tova Mirvis, Julie Otsuka, Victor Pelevin, Scott Phillips, Michael Rips, Joe Sacco, June Spence, Manil Suri, Hannah Tinti, Brady Udall, Chris Ware and Colson Whitehead.
Yo, wait a second: do you read that? Junot Diaz? Edwidge Danticat? Hannah Tinti? Alexsandar Hermon? Jonathan Safran Foer? Colson Whitehead? Seriously? Nicole Aragi is so good she's virtually a conspiracy.
Anyway, about once every year, I send Nicole Aragi's assistant a query letter, sort of like sending out Christmas cards for the holidays. It's sort of an annual tradition of mine. This time, maybe because my query letter sounded so fucking desperate (but honest, I have to say), Nicole Aragi's assistant was kind enough to write back. Here's what she wrote, a completely legit reply. After doing some research, it turns out that a million aspiring writers have received the same response before. So, I'm not special, but at least Nicole Aragi's assistant was courteous, punctual and honest. I can live with that. For now, anyway. . .
Here's what she wrote:
Dear Jackson,
Thank you for your interest in our agency. Sadly, however, Nicole Aragi has a full client list and is not taking on new work at the moment.
We wish you the best of luck in securing another agent
Yours,
L. S.
And my reply:
Dear L.S.,
thanks for responding so quickly. I appreciate that.
Okay, no problem. I understand. If and when Nicole does decide to take on new work later on, I hope you'll keep my query letter on file, just in case.
Enjoy June in The City.
Peace, Blessings,
--Jackson
Anyway, here's like the third rejection from Witness I've received that says this. It's not a bad sign of course, but the gloss is starting fade frankly. I'm over the good rejection phase of my life. I only post them here because I like to catalog my submissions + post auspicious responses, in whatever form.
So here it is. Again:
Dear Jackson Bliss:
Thank you for giving us the opportunity to consider your work. Unfortunately, this particular submission is not a good fit for us. We are impressed by your writing, though, and hope you will feel encouraged to submit again.
Sincerely,
The editors
Dear Junot,
I know you're a busy man these days after the Pulitzer madness and everything, but I'm writing you because I'm stubborn like that + I'd appreciate your help. I'll work my ass for any kind of help by the way, so I'm not looking for a hand-out or a chippie from you, just whatever you feel is deserved. But here's my deal, and I hope you'll just take it as one emerging fiction writer reaching out to an established one, and nothing more. . .
I've got my MFA from a pretty good program + I'll be starting my PhD in literature + creative writing at USC in the Fall, so institutionally I'm getting some support, don't get me wrong. But it's the important little things I really need your help with. For one, I have a 460-page novel called BLANK that I think rocks the joint. Like all works of literary fiction, there are holes in it, moments of self-indulgence, hang-ups + other shit. I'm not gonna lie. But in a couple ways, it reminds me a bit of The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao (strong, contradictory, complex characters, multiple narratives, multicultural, moments of lyrcism, all that) and that's why I'm asking you + not just any fiction star for some guidance. But the thing is Junot, this novel is superambitious + despite all of its flaws + virtues, it's using voices (chinese-american, senegalese-american, moroccan-french, indian-american) + exploring subjects (parkour, culture jamming, porn piracy, emotional voids, nymphomania) that agents aren't willing to touch, at least from an unkown fiction writer with a name that sounds like a fake-ass nom de plume. I've received lots of praise for this novel, for the ambition + beauty of BLANK, but it's usually the same shit: Jackson, you need someone who is going to passionately defend your novel, and I'm not that person. . .
I know all of this sounds wack, like I'm whining about not getting a break. But, that's not it man. I've gotten more than 500 rejections (and a few acceptances too) in the past five years from both journals + agents, I've sent partials to almost every agent whose client list shows stylistic similarities to my own, and I've been writing seriously since I was an undergrad (and I'm 35 now). I mean, I'm doing my homework, revising my stories all the time, tweaking my novel + definitely putting in my time for sure. This shit is my life Junot, and I've had so many people tell me, or stop me from writing since I was young, but I have to write. That's why I'm on this earth: to write, to create + affect. At the same time, I feel like at some point, every writer with talent, conviction + a different voice, who can't (or won't) write the typical workshop novel with all of its emotional paralysis, white despair + Freudian histography inevitably needs help from someone with power, especially when he's writing something new, audacious, unapologetic, at least before there's a market or a readership for what he does. . .That's just where I am at right now.
So, maybe if you're feeling compassionate/impatient with me, you've already jumped to the how, and asked yourself how the hell you can help me. Well, in a million ways. I'll just list some things, and if you feel like doing any of them, I'll be eternally grateful. If not, I'll be disappointed because of the person you seem to be to me, but I'll get over my shit eventually + just take it as another bump on the road to my own career. Truthfully, I get it: why would you help me? You don't owe me shit, you don't know me at all + maybe I come off as a whiny, fiction poser who wants people to eat his food for him. But part of me feels like you have a soft spot for the hardworking underdog. Well, here he is Junot. So here's a few things that could help me out. Am I asking too much? Hell yeah. But I've got to try anyway. This is my life man. . .
SOME WAYS YOU CAN HELP (in descending order of time commitment)
1. Maybe this summer, when you had a weekend free, you could read BLANK + tell me if I'm fucked in the head.
2. If you're not up to that (+ I guess I don't blame you since you have no idea whether that would be worth your time), then, maybe you could just read a few chapters + if you felt like there was promise there, tell Nicole Aragi what's up. Trying to contact her directly is like trying to break into a federal maximum security prison with a shoespoon.
3. If you don't like any of those ideas, you could let me send you some short stories for the BR. I've already sent the Boston Review 8 short stories, all of them rejected. And to be honest, I thought the last three stories might be up your alley, but I'm not sure that they even made it to your desk. Almost all of my writing is character-based, but I don't know if your fiction readers like my stuff or not. So far it doesn't seem like it. . .
4. You could kick it with me at a bar for hour in Chicago this summer, or LA in the fall onward + just talk shop with me. It means a lot to me to be able to talk fiction with someone who knows what's up + it would be inspiring. I could learn a lot from you, your life, your dedication. Not only that, but it would make me feel like the big guns in the literary world aren't too big for their fame, and that some day, with the same love, dedication + stubborness, I'll make it too. That might stupid, but that's way important to me.
All right, that's it. This is a long, fucking message, and I'm like half-sorry. But it's all real + honest Junot. I'm just telling you where I'm at + hoping that you some part of this email resonates with you, even for a second. Like I said, you don't owe me shit, but I'd genuinely appreciate your help anyway + I hope you'll do the right thing cuz it matters to me. And I think it matters to you.
Con Amistad + Agradecimiento,
--Jackson Bliss
And here's his response:
thank you for your email but im entirely focused on my own work right now and
can barely get to do that given my teaching obligations, my community
obligations, my editing obligations, and my attempt to keep a social life
going.
this is about the 97th email of this kind ive received in just these last two
months. good luck. it is not an easy road.
j
And my reply:
junot,
it's cool. i know you're mad busy + I kinda figured you'd say this. but shit, i had to try against all odds because there's just too much at stake. i get it though: you can't help everyone. maybe you're not even supposed to.
when i've weighed up to my class, our paths will cross I hope someday. in the meantime, i'll keep fighting.
with respect,
peace, blessings,
-jackson
Thank you for submitting "5 Ways to Get your Heart Broken by a Car" to Pindeldyboz. Unfortunately I've decided
to pass on your story. Your writing is beautiful, but breaking up the
text weakens it (in my opinion).
Good luck with your writing!
Best,
Nicole
After screaming out loud + crying in my girlfriend's neck, the first thing I did was write the people that helped me get into USC. I think that's the right thing to do, to thank not just the creater/universe/whatever configuration you're into frankly, for the joy + privilege of being able to write, read + evolve, but also to thank all the people that pushed your potential art into kinetic art. These are people who used their own energy to nurture and guide your writing. So, I wrote letters to Valerie Sayers, my thesis adviser and friend from Notre Dame, and thanked her for guidance, widsom + perspective (after all, she helped me decide which writing sample to submit, not to mention she was the person who introduced me for my Sparks Reading, and called to accept me back in the spring of 2005, officially creating space for me in this world to be a writer). Then I wrote William O'Rourke and thanked him for accepting my conceptual story in the NDR, and for his help as an old skool critic. Apropos, he wrote one of the most flattering rec's I've ever read. Then, I wrote Steve Tomasula and thanked him for his mind, for his literary deviance, and above all, for his support, intelligence + enthusiasm. He told me he made we walk on water in his rec., and damn I needed a little Jesus in my application. I also wrote my friend and mentor, Jim Dorsey at Dartmouth College, who was a visiting professor at Yale for one of my classes when I was working on my first M.A. there. He has written no less than 10 rec.'s for me over the course of 10 years for a million different programs (and half-baked aspirations) at a long-list of schools (PhD, MFA), supporting me when I considered going straight academic (Berkeley, Stanford, U Dub), straight fine arts (Notre Dame + Indiana U), and now, a perfect hybrid of the two (USC). Finally, I wrote Julianna Baggott, the assistant director at FSU. I know this year didn't have a normal fiscal pulse for FSU, and I didn't want her to feel bad about not being able to accept me. I know she respected me as a writer and liked me as a person, and had hoped that FSU financial situation would improve. It didn't, they accepted 2 fiction PhD's instead of 5-6, and that's not her fault. Anyway, here is the letter I wrote her:
Hey Julianna,
I'm sorry things didn't work out. Sort of feels like we broke up before we dated or something. . . Even so, I just wanted you to know that I really appreciated your support, honesty + compassion. I know you only had so much control over your budget, and the FL legislature, and that in another year things probably would have ended differently.
Even so, because I know you feel a little guilty about l'affaire FSU, even though it's clearly not your fault, or anyone else's for that matter, I thought it might assuage things a little bit to let you know that things ended up great for me anyway. I got into USC's PhD program for Lit + CW (fiction, obviously) and I'll be working with some cool writers (not to mention, I'll be an hour away from my mamma), so don't worry about me. I'm cool. And more importantly, happy I got to know you a little bit during this whole process.
I'm looking forward to running into you at a conference/residence in the future. Thanks again for the way you handled things and the grace with which you did them, and stay in touch.
Peace, Blessings,
--j2b
And here is her Response:
USC is a great program! and personally i'd love to be only an hour from family.
thanks so much for the updates.
i don't consider us broken up! i'd love to hear what you're doing from time to time, if you don't mind jotting me little notes. i know you're going to have a long and splendid career! it'd be a pleasure to watch it unfold -- even from afar.
all my best,
jb
1. FSU told me they didn't have enough money to accept me because they were sticking to their 2 little fiction acceptances for the PhD cycle
2. I didn't get any translation projects from Wordit until at the very end of March, meaning LB + I had to spend some of our savings, eeking out a living on a $110 a week--only possible in Argentina with rent paid, by the way
3. I got waitlisted at USC, and then later, berated by the secretary for trying to figure out what my ranking was on that waitlist (not to mention, lamenting a little bit that the waitlist was akin to slow rejection, and agonizing for me) I apologized to her for upsetting her in anyway, but she never responded.
4. A rejection from FC2 for my first collection of short stories, The Defiance of Objects
5. Several obnoxious, anonymous comments on this blog by someone claiming he was trying to help me distinguish between rejection letters from literary journals, or some shit like that
6. Yesterday, I got the following things in this precise order:
A rejection letter from NYU for their M.A. program in CW
An email from the Baltimore Review telling me to resend my files in .rtf format after waiting six months
A rejection letter from AGNI
A rejection letter from the Indiana Review
An email from a good friend of mine telling me I'd offended her in an email where I'd jokingly told her that her blog reminded me of a TEFL blog for beginning students of English since it was saturated with the present simple tense (e.g. I like cake. Grass is fun. Books are good, and no, those aren't actual quotes from her blog)
7. LB + I found out that our credit limit for one of our credit cards, shrunk from 10k to 5k, essentially erasing a laptop I was going to buy this summer, a durable mac powerbook
8. I got this really strange little patch of eczema on the top of my nose that made me look, well, positively fabulist. I could have been a fucking reindeer story
9. The waiting game with schools, the continuous checking and re-checking my email, MFA blogs, all the time lost worrying, stipulating, imagining, devising back-up plans, the tension + the uncertainty, the lack of communication
But, March also came through for me too, and for that I'm deeply grateful:
1. Being waitlisted at USC is an achievement, in and of itself. Ditto with FSU
2. My friend and I worked it all out
3. The eczema is almost gone now
4. Two minutes ago, I got my acceptance letter today from USC, and the first thing I did was hug my girlfriend and cry. Maybe it's the latent latino in me, maybe it was holding in four months of tension + uncertainty, but my god, I had to let out all that emotion somehow. At the very end, USC came through for me, and so did March. Ahumdulila. Seriously, that's my only response: Ahumdulila. Dear universe, buddhas, god, nature, whatever and wherever you are, thank you. I'd like to give props to the creator for this. I'm humbled and moved, and I promise not to waste this enormous privilege
Thank you for sending us your work.
Unfortunately this particular manuscript was not the right fit for Columbia: A Journal of Literature and Art, but we were very impressed by your writing. We hope that you will feel encouraged by this short note and send us something else.
We look forward to reading more.
Sincerely,
The Editors of Columbia: A Journal of Literature and Art
Here's my gracious rejection email from Julianna Baggot at FSU, one of the final emails in a series of conversations we had:
Jackson,
It's a combination.
Jackson,
It's a combination.
We usually overbook, meaning we usually accept more people than we actually expect to accept. We're trying to hit a target -- if we go over, well, we go over. But this year there was no margin to go over. At all. We could only accept as many as we had spots for. So it was tighter than usual. And then I was told one fewer and other wrenches. We had to wait. And wait. And now more folks -- from that tight offer batch -- have said yes than expected. So that's where we are.
The top seven-ten in both the PhD and MFA file in fiction, I felt like I would be honored to teach any of those students. Honored. The work was really stunning. Yours included. From there, it's a group decision. And it was painful for all of us. The work was really strong -- and varied. And the decision-making was so hard. You are hugely talented. You'll do great things. And I don't say any of this to make this easier.
All my best,
j.
Thank you for sending us "The End of the World". We really enjoyed your writing, but we didn't feel it was right for The Literary Review.
We hope that you will continue to send us your work.
Sincerely,
The Editors of The Literary Review
email. Unfortunately, it's not right for Kyoto Journal, but we're sure
you'll haveluck placing it, and we wish you the best with your writing.
If you're interested in publishing elsewhere in Japan, you might try
Yominono, edited by Suzanne Kamata. I think this story might work there.
Once again, thank you for thinking of us.
Sincerely,
Leza Lowitz
March 16th, 2009
Dear Jackson,
Thank you for submitting The Defiance of Objects to FC2 for consideration, and for the time and effort you put into composing your manuscript. After much deliberation and careful consideration, I’m very sorry to say that FC2 has decided to pass on it.
FC2’s mission has been and remains to publish books of high quality and exceptional ambition whose style, subject matter, or form push the limits of American publishing. FC2 prides itself on being open to new-to-FC2 and/or previously unpublished authors. However, out of the over 300 submissions we receive annually, we are able to publish only six books per year and therefore must be very selective.
Thank you once again for your interest in Fiction Collective Two.
Best,
Carmen Edington
Managing Editor, FC2
University of Houston-Victoria
But, even as I say that, I'll continue to harbor irrational hope for some kind of miracle. It's just how I'm wired. I don't give up until I'm forced to, and even then, I'll try something else. I'm devoted + persistent in the best way possible I think.
Anyway, here's the damage:
Dear J. Jackson Bliss,
The reading committee of the PhD in Literature & Creative Writing program in the Department of English has now completed review of applications and has placed your name on the waiting list.
Applications were of extremely high quality this year, and funding is extremely tight. We were able to secure slots in our program for six candidates. There is a possibility that some of those who have received formal acceptance from us will decline and that you will be next on the list for acceptance for Fall 2009. We will be back in touch after April 15th (if not before), should that eventuality arise. We sincerely appreciate not only your patience but the time and effort you put into your application to our program.
We thank you for your interest in USC and encourage you to apply again next year should we not be able to accept you this time around.
Sincerely,
Susan McCabe
Director, Ph.D. in Literature and Creative Writing
And here's my response:
Dear Susan McCabe,
Thanks for finally contacting me to let me know what the status of my application is. I'm not gonna lie Susan, it's heart-breaking. I absolutely love your program and would do anything to study there (e.g. donate plasma, build homes for recovering alcoholics, sell a million brownies, teach Swahili), but we both know it doesn't look good right now. With only three fiction slots, no one of sane body + mind would turn down studying at USC's Literature + Creative Writing Program. It's just too good to pass up. Please don't get me wrong, I absolutely won't give up hope until you tell me there is no room left for hoping, because one of my problems is that I am an irrational optimist. It's always been one of my flaws. Even so, would you be kind to tell me what my ranking is on the waiting list? It will help me ground my expectations, and give me an idea of where I should focus my energy right now.
Anyway, I've done a lousy job of thanking you, but I do really appreciate you writing me, especially since I've been floating in a state of purgatory since November. I will continue to hope against all reason that there's a chance, but I will understand the odds much better if you can give me an idea of where I stand. And if by some miracle, you find a way to create a seventh spot because it just breaks your heart too much to reject this persistent Jackson Bliss who simply won't go away (not a bad quality to have as a writer), I want you to know that I completely understand. Some decisions have to be respected.
Enjoy the weekend.
Peace, Blessings,
--Jackson Bliss
Of course William doesn't accept submissions of current students, that I understood then, but I still tried anyway cuz I'm like that. But today, after rejecting five other pieces of mine that spawns four years, starting with the AWP contests in 2005 and 2006, and then several short stories that I'd sent him since I graduated back in 2007, William finally accepted my piece "City of Sand." It's one of my favorite, more conceptual and older stories. It's about a letter that travels from Mali to Paris, New York and finally, Cardiff-by-the-Sea, California, and all the different people it affects along the way. I originally wrote this story in the first workshop I ever took (in my life) at Portland State University, back in 2002, and I've revised it probably fifty times since then.
So, I finally have my first publication for 2009. And it only took me four years to get it! But yo, I'm not complaining. It's all about little steps, and this is my first one of 2009 Mashallah.
Dear Jackson,
Thank you for thinking of me and Kneerim & Williams and allowing me the chance to read your work. I read your submission with interest and found much to admire here, but unfortunately decided that this project isn't right for me. I'm so sorry not to have better news, but feel it's better for me to step aside for someone who can truly champion this book!
I wish you the very best of luck finding an agent who is enthusiastic about this and look forward to seeing your name on a bookshelf soon.
All best,
Leslie
Matt Borondy came upon your Blue Mosaic Me post about Identity Theory not responding particularly fast (or at all) to some submissions, and first, my apologies. I went back through our Gmail account and for whatever reason we've been especially bad getting back to you.
I've been the fiction editor for a few years now, and in that time our system for reading submissions has changed quite a bit. It started off with me and one other editor--I would do the first read, he would look at ones I liked, and I'd handle all the correspondence. Then, while I was having a grand old time with Hodgkin's in 2007/8, our submission rate mysteriously doubled (you weren't the only one at that point to not receive prompt replies, for sure). So last year we brought on more assistant editors, which has been great for staying on top of submissions but not ideal for consistency. So, yes, at this point we do resort to form emails in many cases, and I've reminded my colleagues that at the very least, during those busier weeks, we have to acknowledge every writer by name and the title of their piece.
It's not ideal. Three years ago, when we got far fewer pieces, I used to write detailed feedback on every single one. But with more submissions and a much worse signal-to-noise ratio, we have to use a more traditional, slightly less personal system. It shouldn't result in pieces getting ignored or our responses sounding completely copy-and-pasted, of course. But it just reminds me of when I had a temp job for a few months at Harvard's rare books library, sorting through twenty years (~1928-1948) of correspondence between The Nation and prospective writers. The same writer would get the same hand-typed, one-line rejection dozens of times. No greeting, just "Thank you for thinking of The Nation but we cannot use your submission."
Best,
Andrew Whitacre
::
And here's my response:
Andrew,
I appreciate you taking the time to respond, especially to my sad literary blog that's basically a catharsis pretending to be a literary fiction blog. When I was reading for the Notre Dame Review, and interning at Hachette Books USA, I saw the avalanche of submissions arriving in little storms. Everything was always behind schedule, no matter how on top of it editors were or what venue it was. And I know that editors at IT get paid nothing or almost nothing, so I'm sympathetic to your situation. It's ironic in a way, the more successful you become as a journal, the more work you have to do. I guess that's the price of publishing something that matters to people.
Anyway, gambatte with the Hodgkin's. And thanks again for writing. It was gracious of you, and totally unexpeceted.
Peace, Blessings,
--Jackson Bliss
P.S. Because some of my fiction friends read my blog, I'm going to post your response if you don't mind--maybe you even expected as much--so they get a more balanced perspective of the editorial POV at Identity Theory.
I waited almost 8 months for this? You've got to be joking.
My problem with IT, even though I think it's a good journal, is that:
1. It always takes them 7-12 months before I hear from the fiction department, and only after I send them an email pestering them, which means they're not making a habit of responding to submissions, which is absolutely lame.
2. The stories I read in their magazine are never better than the ones I submit, just different.
3. I could forgive the above two points if James Warner had just written my name in the email. My name is not "not right for us."
So, as Howard Junker says in his rejection letters, onward!
My name is Peter Fontaine and I am the prose editor for New South. I'm writing in regards to your electronic submission of "New Slang" to our publication. While I enjoyed the humor and some of the more interesting elements of the story, we can't place it right now for our journal. Thank you for taking the time to submit and for your patience as we read and deliberated over your story. Good luck placing "New Slang" elsewhere, and please think of us again when you are sending out new fiction.
Thank you for sending us "Otra Chica." We appreciated the chance to consider it, but it didn't work for Fence.
Sincerely,
The Editors of Fence
And that my friends, is how not to write a form letter rejecting a story through email, especially when it takes you 10 months to respond. To add to the frustration, everytime I sit down a read story from Fence, I always like it but I'm never blown away. And "Otra Chica," will blow your shit up. Their loss.
1. This is AWP week
2. Everyone's there except me
3. I'm in Argentina so all rejection/acceptance letters sent by Old Skool papyracrats will take AT LEAST another week to get here, possibly longer, which only elongates the agony
4. It takes time for some programs to respond based on the sheer number of applications they receive. But what's making my life sort of miserable right now, is that I discovered the MFA Blog, where writers post when they've been accepted/rejected, and it seems like almost half of the programs have already sent out emails, or called applicants at the top of their list, EXCEPT in my four programs. And I just can't take it anymore. Where I get in decides where my girlfriend and I move to, and we've been in limbo about our future since September. Enough's enough.
So, for the love of god, FSU, UC-DAVIS, USC + NYU, will you please help a brother out and respond for fuck's sake. I'm gonna start biting my nails off, and I don't even do shit like that. Of course, I'd really appreciate an acceptance letter, especially one with a fat TA assistantship, lipstick marks underneath the signature, or some type of important-sounding fellowship that says Mom I Can Write, but at this point, it would also be great to know what the fuck is going on with my life, seeing as we leave Buenos Aires in less than two months, and I have no idea where the next step is after Europe + Chicago for the summer.
Details please!
- Location:Buenos Aires, Argentina
Thank you for sending us "Chaos Theory".
Unfortunately this particular piece was not a right fit for One Story, but we were very impressed by your writing. We hope that you will feel encouraged by this short note and send us something else.
We look forward to reading more.
Sincerely,
The Editors of One Story
This was a gracious rejection. I wonder, though, if she was being kind to me because of the misunderstanding we had, or because she actually saw something promising in my writing. Anyway, here it is:
Dear Jackson,
Thank you for sending your novel, BLANK, once again. And thank you for your gracious acceptance of my apology regarding the correspondence error.
Unfortunately, I’m sorry to say that I’m going to pass. I also recall now reading the material some time ago. I admire the rich and dynamic nature of your writing style, but I’m afraid I just was not engaged by the pages overall in the way I feel I need to be. As I’m sure you know, the market for literary fiction is extremely competitive, so it’s necessary that the agent who’s representing it feels passionately about it. Which, of course, is a subjective response. I’m sorry not to be the right match for your novel, but I wish you success finding someone who is. Presumably you are in touch with other agents at the moment, so I hope you soon find other representation.
Thank you again for the opportunity to have read your work.
Sincerely,
Katherine
Did I never respond to your story? My god, if so, I apologize. There's some
sharp writing within, a very nice handle on the voice, but ultimately we
didn't think it was quite right for us. Do feel free to try us again and
good luck finding a home for this. We appreciate your giving us the
opportunity to consider it.
Best,
Branden Jacobs-Jenkins
The New Yorker
Fiction Department
I waited seventeen months so The Hudson Review could tell me about their next submission period was. Bizarre. Thank guys, but what I really wanted to know is what happened to my manuscript "A New Slang." The funny thing is that despite how gracious this email is, it doesn't actually tell me anything. But then again, most rejections don't either, I guess.
Dear Mr. Bliss,
We realized recently that your fiction inquiry did not receive a timely response, and we regret that you are only hearing from us now. Your story should have been returned to you, but if not, it could indicate that we never received it. Our next fiction reading period is from September 1 to November 30 2009, and our response should normally take three months. Thank you for your interest in The Hudson Review
The Editors
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
The Hudson Review
60th ANNIVERSARY
684 Park Avenue
New York, NY 10065
(212) 650-0020
I have someone who helps me with the enormous number of queries and manuscripts I receive. He has just alerted me to your recent emails and tells me that we replied back to you some time ago. But perhaps our response did not arrive, or there was a mistake on our end. I do not know. I am very sorry, however, that you have been waiting seven months for a reply. Do you have your manuscript available to send as an email attachment? If so I will make it a priority and will get back to you immediately. Again, please accept my sincerest apologies.
--Katherine Fausset
Dear Jackson:
Thank you for thinking of Hill Nadell Agency for your novel BLANK. While you clearly are an accomplished writer, I'm sorry to say that we've decided your project is not a good fit for our list.
Best wishes in finding the right custodian for your work.
Sincerely,
Carolyn Kellogg
And here's my totally lame response. Shit, it was worth a try:
Hi Carolyn Kellogg,
Okay. Can I be honest with you? I'm really bummed to hear that because I'm afraid that my novel is a bit too conceptual for plot-based agents, but way too character-based and linear for experimentalists, and I sort of hoped your agency would give refuge to a writer like me who can write some beautiful things but in a different way than the industry wants. I know this is really gauche of me, but what would it hurt to just check out 3 chapters? I mean, the worst thing that happens is that it simply confirms what you thought all along.
I'm not asking for special treatment, and you've been incredibly gracious, for which I'm superthankful. But could I ask you just to read a few chapters? It could be something you pull out during the next traffic jam, a bad first date, or during a really long editorial meeting, or just 20 minutes as you're falling asleep. I really had my heart set on your agency because DFW trailblazed a path for writers have important things to say, and this novel does, it really does.
I'm really sorry I'm writing this. But please consider just a few chapters, nothing more, nothing less. And forgive me for being persistent, I just know an agency that I respect when I see one.
Peace, Blessings,
--j2b
P.S. Don't worry, I won't be offended when you don't respond. I just thought it was worth a try
Of course, she didn't write back. With the exception of CPL, they never do.
He's right about at least one thing, BLANK isn't effortless. I spent way too much time going over and over and over it, and perhaps I'll never know how to make it feel effortless. I've revised those 460 pages so many times that I can't even read it sometimes. It's not smooth reading, but I think it's beautiful and important writing that says something that no other novel is saying right now. I'll even go a step further and say that BLANK is writing about both characters and places that literary fiction isn't touching like Parkour, culture jamming, porn + human sexuality, nymphomania, regression, exile, emotional voids, immigration, racism, and at the root of everything, the redemption of words, language + beauty. It's not a perfect novel (does such a thing exist?), but it's a powerful novel that says things in a way that other don't, and that uses voices that aren't being used for narrative. There is very little precedent for what I've done, and I fear that old agents won't feel emotionally connected to the writing because they don't see something to connect with the characters and their generation, and that young agents will think I'm trying too hard. In a way, I feel that they're both wrong.
So am I fucked? Probably. But I'll keep looking for the right agent, and work on my second collection of short stories in the process, since those pieces are more straight up narrative, and easier for realists to digest, even though my aesthetic sensiblity is somewhere between literary + conceptual, language-driven + character-based.
When I was younger, I used to write a lot of short stories that tried to be smart first, and then human second. But I truly believe that in BLANK, my intelligence, my creativity, my characterization and my language-driven kinesis is all in the service of the ultimate function of language and beauty, and in the firm humanity of my characters. There are certainly flaws in my novel, but the words in that novel are absolutely in the service of art, not my intellectual ego.
CPL is an intelligent, fair and blunt agent, and I respect him immensely for taking the time to look at my book, especially considering the context in which he agreed to read 3 chapters. I just don't happen to agree with him about his diagnosis. My writing is kinetic, it flows; sometimes I used extravagant metaphors, sometimes I use too many of them, but this isn't part of an inchaote style,or someone trying to be someone he isn't, it is my style. I'm not a language miser, I don't hold on to language, I'm constantly letting it go, to see where it flies off to, and all I'm trying to do as a writer, is follow it, not restrain it.
Of the people that have read my entire novel, they are touched by the characters, and moved by the language, not impressed by my mind, and that's what really matters.
Anyway, here's the damage. Another take on BLANK that's not what I expected, but is very honest and has good intentions behind every word. If nothing else, I know this is exactly how one agent sees my book, and that in itself is really helpful. Here it is:
Jackson,
So I read this sample, and this is certainly ambitious, as you say, which is always something I admire—I see far too much derivative, anodyne stuff coming through here (some of which winds up published, I hate to say). But in going for an idiosyncratic narrative voice like this, you’re going to wind up having some readers go for it, and others not. And I’m sorry to say I just didn’t. For me to respond to it, I need writing to feel effortless—I don’t want to feel aware of the work that went into it, and I don’t want it to feel self-consciously clever or impressed with itself. “Writing is learning to kill your darlings,” as the old writer’s workshop saw goes, and I felt like there were a lot of darlings here. (“The girl with the same Anapestic meter” springs to mind—and it doesn’t help that “Ethan Mills” and “Kendra Banks” aren’t actually anapests).
A lot of people who don’t like DFW’s work object to it on these very grounds, ironically—that it feels like he’s trying too hard. I couldn’t disagree more; that might be true with a lesser writer (or lesser mind) trying to parrot his style, but I think his prose feels like it sprung fully-formed from his fingers, though of course it wasn’t that easy. But it feels like it was easy, which is all that matters.
Listen, this is entirely a matter of taste, and there’s a lot of intellect bursting forth on these pages, so I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if another agent saw things differently. But to my eye what I read here feels like a young writer figuring out his art, and that you’re just not there yet: I think your best work is ahead of you.
I’m sorry again that we got started off on the wrong foot, and I do appreciate you giving me a chance to rectify my oversight the first time around, though I’m sorry not to have better news for you. Best of luck moving forward.
Yrs,
CPL
CPL may not accept BLANK, but at least he's giving a brilliant and unorthodox novel a chance, and for that alone I'm really, happy + grateful.
This is what he wrote:
Jackson,
Apparently my wife is bored at work, because she googled my name and came
across a blog post where you lamented the fact that I didn't even take a
look at BLANK.
You're right; I should be more open than that. I confess that it came in
while I was away on vacation, and I rejected it along with about 200 other
queries that came in in my absence--I may have been so overwhelmed by all of
them that I felt disinclined to give something a chance that I might have
otherwise. So send me along the first few chapters as an email attachment,
and I'll get back to you as soon as I can.
Can I make a suggestion? Do not cite rejection letters from other agents
and editors when you're querying an agent. If I had to point to one thing
(besides my general mood at the time) that led me to pass on your query,
it's that you cited kind words from people who nonetheless didn't want to
take on the manuscript. Honestly, it's just too easy for an agent to
assume, especially when they're swimming in queries, that if it wasn't good
enough for their peers, it's not going to be good enough for them--we pay
attention to the fact that they passed, not that they said nice things about
it.
Yrs,
CPL
Dear Jackson,
Thanks so much for sending us your query regarding BLANK,
which we've now had a chance to review.
Though what you've written promises to be a thoughtful and compelling book,
I'm afraid we were unable to find a place for it at this agency.
Do know that we're glad you considered us, and that we wish you the best of
luck in placing your work elsewhere.
Best Wishes,
The Gernert Company
You know, rejection is the name of the game. I get that. There aren't any surprises there. But what does surprise me, is a literary agency passing on the ability to at least check something out. If something promises to be a "thoughtful and compelling book," why wouldn't you at least want to take a peek at it? The worst thing thing that can happen is that it confirms your initial suspicion. But what if you pass on something terrific?
Perhaps what I find the most disappointing about this rejection, is that I wanted Chris Parris-Lamb to read BLANK. I read an interview of his online where he talked about how David Foster Wallace was the reason he got into literary representation, and yet, here I was, trying to get him to consider a novel that shares some of the ambition, intellectual richness, structural unorthodoxy and beauty of DFW's writing, and I can't even get him to check it out. It just seems so contradictory. But that's okay, because so is literary publishing, and I just need to roll with it.
And so here I roll . . .
1. Restructure BLANK. Virtually every writer and editor who has read my novel (or a portion of it), from editors at Harper Collins, the best literary agents in the whole world, to respected writers like Valerie Sayers, Frances Sherwood, Chuck Wachtel at NYU + Julianna Baggot at FSU, has loved the voice of Winnie Yu, the culture-jamming graffiti artist in the second section of my novel. But after MF stopped reading at page 45, I realized it's possible an agent may never actually get to the 2 couples with more substance, where the heart of the novel is (my first couple just fucks a lot and overintellectualizes everything, kinda like going to Oberlin College). So, to remedy this, I've switched sections one and two. Now, section two, the middle section, is chock full of sex, sandwiched by deeper, more complex, and more human characters.
2. My second response, which is just as healthy, and just as likely to break my heart someday, is to send out new novel queries to new agents. So I sent out a query letter to an agent at The Gernert Company in New York, and another one to David Foster Wallace's agent in SF.
Stay tuned. . .
Dear Jackson,
Thanks so much for sharing BLANK with me. I've now had the chance to read a fair portion of the manuscript, and I'm confident that it's not for me. I think you've got an ambitious concept here that is vastly appealing and you pitched it quite well, but for me, the writing left me feeling at once both raw and disconnected from these characters. It's very tough to pull off an ensemble piece, and it may also be that when it comes to this kind of speculative, or if you want to call it "post apocalyptic" fiction, I'm predisposed to be an unusually harsh judge. But whatever the root of my reasoning is, the narrative just didn't reach me. I do appreciate your thinking of me with this submission, and I hope that your other agent prospect has had a more enthusiastic response.
Warmest wishes for the New Year,
Molly Friedrich
good energy and pacing in "Blank Sheet" but it's not quite right for Agni----thanks for sending it our way.
Sven Birkerts, Fiction Editor
This is the second email she sent me today! Of course, it doesn't mean anything in itself, and I won't get my hopes up right now. But this is possibly one of the best replies I've received from an agent since Lynn Nesbit told me she wanted to read my entire novel. Rad! Check it out:
Dear Jackson,
Thank you for answering everything, and quite thoroughly! You don't, by any chance, happen to know N.H.? The G. Smith and Yale connection made me wonder, and she's one of my newest clients.
Yes, I'd love to take a look at BLANK. Could you send along the entire manuscript, as an email attachment? I'd prefer it in Microsoft Word, if that's possible. Thanks, and I look forward to reading. Do let me know if K.F. resurfaces, because I'd like the chance to respond first if she offers to represent you.
Best,
M.F.
1. Molly Friedrich (who represents 4 Pulitzer-Prize winners). That should intimidate me, but actually it inspires me.
2. Mary Evans (who represents Michael Chabon). I actually think this is something like the third query letter I've sent her in the past 2 years, but I could be wrong. What can I say? I'm persistent, because you have to be in this industry.
3. Doris S. Michaels (whose literary fiction clients are represented in every major publishing house in America)
So, what do I think my odds are? Oh fuck, slim to none. But I knew that going into this profession, and I'm not going to let that stop me from getting published. I'm a talented fiction writer. I'm just waiting for an agent to figure that out, and I know someday one will.
1. NYU (M.A. program)
2. FSU (Ph.D program)
3. USC (Ph.D program)
4. UC-Davis (M.A. program)
Now, maybe some of you are asking me: you already have a M.F.A., why the fuck do you need another degree in creative writing? The answer is simple: I don't. But what I do need, is more time to write and publish. And it's not going to happen by teaching English in Buenos Aires and running all over the city like an amateur speedwalker. By the time I get home, I'm exhausted. Another thing: I picked Notre Dame to get my M.F.A. because I really liked Valerie Sayers, Steve Tomasula + Frances Sherwood, not to mention it was closer to Chicago, which ended up being the best choice for me, even though I really like and admire Indiana University's MFA program very much for their offer. This time, I'd really love to work with E.L. Doctorow, Lydia Davis, Jonathan Safran Foer, Chuck Watkins, Robert Olen Butler, Julianna Baggott, Suzanne Stuckey-French, TC Boyle, Aimee Bender, Marianne Wiggins, Percival Everrett, Yiyun Li + Pam Houston, so really, any of the above mentioned programs would do. Also, this time: NYC, Florida, LA or the Bay Area, work just fine for me. More than anything, I just want to write, learn from the best writers in the world, read 200 amazing novels, and flourish. I've got the talent, the persistence and the devotion, I just want more time to become the next big thing, and maybe expand my network in the process. Holla!
- Music:Colorblind by Natalie Walker
Dear Jackson Bliss:
Thank you for giving us the opportunity to consider your work. Although we enjoyed this submission, it does not presently meet our needs. We are grateful that you thought of us and wish you the best of luck in placing your manuscript elsewhere.
Sincerely,
The editors
WITNESS
::
Mr. Bliss,
Thank you for submitting your work to Brevity, the journal of concise nonfiction. Although we do not have a place for your work in the issues for which we are currently reading, we wanted you to know that our readers enjoyed your essay.
We have been blessed with a large number of excellent submissions lately, and hope that you understand that we can only publish a small fraction of the material we receive. We encourage you to submit your work elsewhere and to consider us again (remembering our rule, no more than two submissions per author per calendar year.)
Good luck with your writing,
The Editors
BREVITY
- Location:BsAs, Argentina
The consensus on this one is that there are a lot of great moments and the narrator is compelling, but it's not a One Story story.
Sorry for bad news again, but please try us again.
How have you been? Were you in Costa Rica or am I thinking of someone else? Will you be at the AWP in Chicago?
-PLL
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