THE MAGAZINE OF THE PIPER CENTER FOR CREATIVE WRITING | COLLEGE OF LIBERAL ARTS AND SCIENCES

ON SERVICE WRITERS GIVING BACK PAMELA USCHUK ON THIS WRITER’S LIFE A LOOK INSIDE ARIZONA LITERACY CHARITIES PROFILES OF THE YOUNG STORYTELLERS FOUNDATION BOOKS FOR HUMANITY WRITERS HARVEST 826 VALENCIA AND MORE...

ALSO INSIDE STEVE ALMOND | MEREDITH HALL | REBECCA SEIFERLE | DANZY SENNA IN THIS ISSUE

THE YOUNG STORYTELLERS FOUNDATION ...... 4 VOL 5, ISS 2 SPRING 2009 Allyson Boggess explains how the L.A. community is giving back to youth.

EDITOR Beth Staples THE READING WAR ...... 6 Justin D. Sikes takes a look inside Arizona literacy charities. COPYEDITOR Veronica Lucero FIRST A HOUSE. THEN A BED. THEN A BEDTIME STORY...... 8 Deanna Kern Ludwin reveals the origins of Books for Humanity. CONTRIBUTORS Steve Almond Erin Marie Paquette FROM ACADEMIA TO EAGLE FEATHERS ...... 9 Allyson Boggess Fernando Perez Pamela Uschuk on This Writer’s Life. Meredith Hall Jessica Devoe Riley Ryan Heisel Rebecca Seiferle SHARE OUR STRENGTH ...... 12 Bill Konigsberg Danzy Senna Holly Wilson shows how Writers Harvest events collect food for the hungry. Deanna Kern Ludwin Justin D. Sikes Bojan Louis Rose Swartz ...... 13 Rachel Malis MAKING A CONNECTION Pamela Uschuk Justin D. Sikes profiles ASU newcomer Peter Turchi. Danelle Mallen Holly Wilson Paul Ocampo A SUMMER ABROAD ...... 15 Bojan Louis and Fernando Perez describe the Prague Summer Program.

PIPER CENTER STAFF RENAMING HOME ...... 16 T.R. Hummer, Director Rachel Malis finds poetry in Odessa. Sean Nevin, Assistant Director Elizabyth Hiscox, Program Coordinator Tom McDermott, Director of Communication TOWARD A HAPPY WORLD ...... 18 Danelle Mallen explores a new wave of tutoring centers. Amanda Monrad, Finance Manager Beth Staples, Managing Editor Matthew Brennan, Program Assistant OUT OF THE ASHES ...... 20 Kristina Morgan, Program Assistant Paul Ocampo presents a group of veterans reflecting on war and peace.

THE SUPERSTITION REVIEW ...... 23 Erin Marie Paquette introduces the new online literary journal. PIPER CENTER ADVISORY COUNCIL Naomi Shihab Nye WHOSE LINE IS IT ANYWAY? ...... 32 Ben Bova Jessica Devoe Riley and a character with sass. Billy Collins Barbara Peters, ex oficio Harold Dorenbecher Janaki Ram Dana Jamison, chair John Rothschild A NEW PARTNERSHIP FOR ASU’S YOUNG WRITERS PROGRAM ...... 34 Ryan Heisel explains the connection with Free Arts of Arizona. Simi Juneja Greg Thielen Jo Krueger Theresa Wilhoit Kathleen Laskowski George Witte HOW TO LOSE YOUR REMAINING HAIR ...... 35 Maxine Marshall C. D. Wright Bill Konigsberg on life after MFA graduation.

DEPARTMENTS Q & A: ALMOND, HALL, SEIFERLE, SENNA ...... 24 TABLE OF CONTENTS PHOTO WRITERS CONFERENCE PREVIEW ...... 31 Geoffrey Gray MFA FACULTY NEWS ...... 37 ALUMNI LINER NOTES ...... 38

2 FROM THE DIRECTOR

Dear Readers,

A new year brings many changes: a new presidency, new economic conditions to deal with, and (we hope) many new opportunities for the discipline of creative writing gener- ally, Arizona State University’s creative writing program, and for the Virginia G. Piper Center for Creative Writing to serve our constituents. The most significant new development at the Piper Center for Creative Writing is the addition to our staff of Assistant Director Sean Nevin and Program Coordinator Elizabyth Hiscox. No strangers to ASU or the Piper Center, Sean and Elizabyth are both graduates of ASU’s MFA program in poetry, and have been associated with the Piper Center virtu- ally from its inception. Elizabyth is an Assistant Poetry Editor for the online journal 42 Opus and was Poet-in- Residence at St. Chad’s College of Durham University, England. She also instructs composition, literature, and creative writing at ASU. Her chapbook Inventory from a One-Hour Room is forthcoming from Finishing Line Press. Among Sean’s many strengths—he is a highly accomplished and acclaimed poet, author of A House that Falls (Slaper- ing Hol Press) and Oblivio Gate, (Crab Orchard Award Series), and recipient of an Academy of American Poets Prize, the Alsop Review Poetry Prize, the Robinson Jeffers Tor House Prize for Poetry, and a fellowship from the National En- dowment for the Arts—Sean brings significant expertise in outreach. He divides his time between the Piper Center for Creative Writing and ASU’s Young Writers Program, which places poets and fiction writers in local schools to instruct students and teachers in the craft and pedagogy of creative writing. Sean is helping the creative writing program and the Piper Center to evolve its mission in our new moment, and to keep outreach front and center in our mission. Welcome, Sean and Elizabyth: we are delighted to have you aboard. I also want to encourage you all to register for the seventh annual Desert Nights, Rising Stars Writers Conference that will be held from February 18th to the 21st. In this climate of economic uncertainty, maintaining support for the arts and arts organizations through participation or donations is crucial. We at the Piper Center have created very special discounted conference fees in response to the economy’s downturn to continue providing access to the quality creative writing programs we offer the community. Visit the Web site for full discount details (www.asu.edu/piper). This year’s conference offers readings and interviews with authors; agent pitch meetings; panels on publishing and the writing life; and classes in poetry, fiction, and creative nonfiction. The faculty includes poets Carolyn Forché, Kevin Prufer, Mary Ruefle, and Natasha Trethewey; fiction writers Steve Almond, Bernard Cooper, Percival Everett, Alice Sebold, and Danzy Senna; and creative nonfiction writers Meredith Hall, Nancy Mairs, and Dinty W. Moore. It will also host the state finals for the NEA’s Poetry Out Loud competition, a national high school poetry memorization and recita- tion competition. From all of us here at the Piper Center for Creative Writing, we wish you—writers and readers—a happy, healthy and creatively productive 2009! Sincerely,

Terry Hummer

LETTERS TO THE EDITOR Have something to say about something you’ve read? We’d love to hear from you! Send comments, suggestions, article ideas, and topics for thought or discussion to [email protected].

3 GIVING BACK

THE YOUNG STORYTELLERS FOUNDATION HOW THE LOS ANGELES CREATIVE COMMUNITY IS GIVING BACK TO YOUTH BY ALLYSON BOGGESS

KNBC News Channel 4 in Los Angeles captured the scene though. Take a deep breath.” And she smiled. from the backstage of what appears to be a school audito- This small snippet of a scene reveals the excitement and rium: Tatiana Perez, a young girl wearing a dress and a black anticipation of a young woman about to see her own writ- hat emblazoned with the letters “YSF” in blue, was fidgeting ing progress—from its inception as an idea in her head to its and talking to a man in a blazer. She looked very much the expression in her own handwriting on the page and to its professional with an ID badge on a lanyard around her neck. final production on the stage—to its ultimate performance. “I haven’t done this before,” said Perez. As she breathed in, The Young Storytellers Foundation, a nonprofit organization she pulled her arms inward and expelled her breath ner- based in Los Angeles, California, is currently making the re- vously. Actor and mentor for the Young Storytellers Founda- alization of these creative dreams possible for fourth and fifth tion (YSF) Tom O’Keefe told her, “You’re really good at it, graders enrolled in over thirty Los Angeles public schools.

4 GIVING BACK

The concept behind Young Storytellers gained shape in are afforded the individual attention and creative encour- 1997 as a reaction to the curtailment of financial support agement they crave; volunteers who participate give back for art programs in area public schools by a small group of to their community and share their artistic gifts. For such a American Film Institute screenwriters. Galvanized by their small donation of time, the emotional payoff is incalculable. ideas for a program to counteract the creative drought left Dustin Hoffman, Jennifer Aniston, Rachel Bilson, and in the schools in the wake of the cutbacks, the AFI screen- Tate Donovan are just a few of the well-regarded actors writers started Young Storytellers, which, since its inception who have volunteered their time for YSF. In her article on eleven years ago and its formal establishment as a nonprofit the YSF foundation Bettijane Levine from the Los Angeles organization in 2003, has reached thousands of Los Ange- Times noted, “The electric effect of having live actors—from les–area at-risk children. shows such as Friends, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and Freaks The promotion of writing, literacy, and creative expres- and Geeks—read the lines they’d written, lending meaning sion no doubt inspires every person involved—children and beyond what they ever imagined when they wrote them, mentors, actors and volunteers—long after the session has appeared to stun the little playwrights and their parents. The finished. The six-week, one-on-one program is designed to audience roared with delight at the humor, suspense, and teach children how to write cre- pathos of the kids’ plays.” atively, how to direct their vision, In June 2008, the Young Sto- and how to take pride in what rytellers Foundation was awarded they have created. For some stu- a $75,000 grant from the Eisner dents, this dream already exists, Foundation in recognition of and the opportunity to take part their important work in the com- in such a program is a fulfillment munity. With increased acknowl- of it. For others, the dream is con- edgment and financial support, ceived when an actor speaks those YSF has the potential to reach first words on the stage at the fi- an even larger population in the nal production—when they real- Los Angeles public school sys- ize those first words are their own tem. Even during this country’s words, that those first words have strained financial situation, YSF an audience. continues to grow and champion The program works like this. Ten student playwrights the arts for children in need. from each school are individually paired with ten YSF men- Nathan Reynolds, the executive director of P.S. Arts—an- tors who volunteer an hour of their time each week for six other California-based organization geared toward the pro- weeks to guide, listen, and provide support to the students as motion of the arts in public schools—said this about the they craft original plays created out of their own thoughts, important work that YSF is doing in the Los Angeles com- ideas, and stories. The mentors who participate in the YSF munity: “[The Young Storytellers Foundation] gives children program are volunteers from the Los Angeles creative com- who don’t have a voice anywhere in our culture a chance munity—not just writers but actors, artists, and those who to hear what they’ve written read dramatically, by an actor, have a vested interest in the proliferation of artistic experi- that gives real validity to the child’s work. It is tremendously ences for children. At the end of six weeks, the cast is selected powerful stuff.” Only time will reveal to us the magnitude from the cadre of professional actors who volunteer their and extent of the Young Storytellers Foundation’s impact on time and talents, and the play is rehearsed and produced for the lives of these new Los Angeles–based public school play- what YSF calls “The Big Show.” The public is invited to at- wrights. Powerful, indeed. tend and celebrate the young playwrights’ accomplishments. The YSF program provides a bridge and a mutually ben- FOR MORE INFORMATION ABOUT eficial dialogue between two economically disparate parts of THE YOUNG STORYTELLERS FOUNDATION, the Los Angeles community: Hollywood and the students in VISIT THEIR WEBSITE: the public school system. Children who participate in YSF HTTP://WWW.YOUNGSTORYTELLERS.COM.

5 GIVING BACK

THE READING WAR A LOOK INSIDE ARIZONA LITERACY CHARITIES BY JUSTIN D. SIKES

In the state of Arizona, one out of every five adults reads be- ters for the Literacy Volunteers of Maricopa County, has had low the 5th grade level, making them functionally illiterate. And poignant personal encounters with illiteracy. “I took those sta- though 24% of Arizona’s adult population lacks a high school tistics to a friend of mine with a PhD,” says Quintana, a 20-year diploma, illiterates are often people who have made it all the associate in this county-wide literacy clinic. “He was shocked, way through the educational system. In a county where things and guessed that the numbers must be higher than they really ranging from drivers licenses to contractors licenses can be is- were. But that same week I found out that a family member, a sued via oral examinations, many successful people may turn very successful businessman, was illiterate. He graduated high out to lack basic reading and writing skills. Two local literacy school in three years, and had his wife do all of his paperwork advocate groups are trying to address this crucial issue. for his business. We just assumed it was because he didn’t like Margaret Quintana, Learn Center Director at the headquar- doing paperwork. And when he didn’t want to play Monopoly

6 GIVING BACK with us at a family gathering, we just assumed it was because he modeled after ESL courses. Business Manager Susan Warren didn’t like board games. But later, when the news came out, he sums it up nicely: “We help parents help their children.” told me that he had really wanted to play with his family that The philosophy for AZ Lit comes from a scientific approach day, but knew he couldn’t read the cards.” to what the Executive Director, Dr. Marj Jones, describes as Literacy Volunteers of Maricopa County (LVMC) is located a ‘reading war.’ “The reason students are slipping through the in Phoenix on 15th Street and Thomas. Founded in 1982, today cracks,” Dr. Jones explains, “is that educators have been trained they serve almost 1,800 students a year, some of whom hail from to ‘broad brush’ their students, tailoring their lessons towards locations as diverse as Somalia, Burundi, Ethiopia, and Russia. the 80% who will learn one way. But then that other 20% is left They offer one-on-one tutoring in workshops throughout the hanging. Longitudinal studies have been conducted on learning county, as well as workplace literacy programs and computer- over the past 40 years, and together with MRI scans they show assisted instruction at their three Learn Centers. They serve stu- us that some 11-15% of the population is simply wired differ- dents aged 16 and up who are not currently enrolled in school. ently, and learn things in a different manner than the rest of us. LVMC employs state-certified instructors, but also relies on vol- This fact sort of blows away the ‘learning by osmosis’ strategy unteers aged 18 and up with high school diplomas or GEDs, we’ve been teaching for years.” who can read at a 12th grade level. Dr. Jones is quick to point out that those 11-15% of the “We typically have between twenty-five and thirty active population are people of average or above average intelligence. volunteers at one time,” says Quintana. “We’re doing our tradi- “People don’t want to address, much less fund, the idea that tional one-on-one training, but this doesn’t seem to be work- 11-15% of us just can’t read for whatever reason,” says Jones. ing as well lately. We’ve started training volunteers to conduct “AZ Lit was formed 20 years ago by a group of educators who small group classes, to monitor computer labs, to do paperwork, believed that their hands were tied because remedial education and such.” LVMC will begin its revamped training well before was both unjustified and too expensive in the eyes of the federal the new year, so if you’re interested visit their website at www. government and cash-strapped school administrators. ‘Dyslexia’ LVMC.net and register online. You’ll be invited to a workshop was not listed in official diagnostic books endorsed by doctors, and can decide if the organization is for you or not. Literacy and thus schools wrote it off as a ‘fake disorder.’ Many still do. Volunteers of Maricopa County can also be reached by phone But not only is dyslexia quite real, it’s the number one reading at 602-274-3430. disorder, and we need a lot more money to fight it.” “What you need, really, is a desire to help people,” explains Hence, AZ Lit has become much more than a literary clinic. Quintana, “because that’s really what you’re going to do. You’re To advance their belief that remedial education should be both going to change people’s lives. And if you’re worried about the funded and embraced by Arizona schools, they have established technical aspects of tutoring, we can certainly help you there.” a task force on literacy within the Arizona House of Represen- As part of the greater effort to drive down the numbers of tatives. For those wishing to assist AZ Lit, getting involved with illiterate adults in Arizona, some groups have turned their atten- research and advocacy is how you can do the most good. tion to struggling children. The Arizona Literacy and Learning “There are two ways you can help us,” Dr. Jones explains. Center, also based in Phoenix at 14001 N. 7th Street (Suite F- “First, fund the research! We need money to get that 11-15% of 112), takes a diagnostic approach to illiteracy among a variety of the population the education they need and deserve. Too often, age groups and makes specific recommendations for improve- people assume that schools take care of all of this, but that’s not ment to parents, schools and students themselves. the case. We need additional funding and additional research, The Arizona Literacy and Learning Center (AZ Lit) con- particularly in the field of remedial writing. ducts an early childhood screening program among students “Also, be volunteer advocates! Write editorials! Work to get aged 3-5 by visiting area preschools and conducting free devel- people on local and state TV to help advance this fact that the opmental reading exams. They check for developmental status educationally under-served are very misunderstood.” in areas such as vision, hearing, social and self-help ability, and AZ Lit does have an internship program for collegians look- speech and language capacity—all of which can affect educa- ing to get involved. They require 10 hours of service a week and tional development—and when a student appears to have dif- offer a semester stipend. Bilingual volunteers are also in demand, ficulty making progress, recommendations are made, sometimes and can help teach some adult programs. Such volunteers will remedial and sometimes medical. AZ Lit also offers a parent be trained as they teach. The Arizona Literacy and Learning training course, and adult programs in linguistics are sometimes Center can be reached by phone at 602-212-1089.

7 GIVING BACK

FIRST A HOUSE. THEN A BED. THEN A BEDTIME STORY. BY DEANNA KERN LUDWIN What if every child owned a favorite book, to be read in to build and stain 40 beautiful oak bookcases, donat- and read again, until its pages fell open to a well-loved ing both materials and labor. In November of 2006, poem or story or illustration? What if that child’s fam- volunteers delivered a bookcase and reference library to ily owned a set of reference books to help with home- every existing Habitat family, as we’ve continued to do work, projects, and discussions? And how might one as each new home is completed. contribute to making such an expansive In addition, Colorado State Univer- undertaking possible? sity interns worked with the Books com- One way is to work with a well es- mittee and the Habitat staff to organize tablished non-profit organization, such the first Habitat Fall Book Festival and as Habitat for Humanity. Since Habitat’s Family Celebration, where families se- founding in 1976, more than 300,000 lected new and gently used books to add houses have been built around the world, to their home libraries. “That afternoon providing homes for more than 1.5 mil- stands out as a wonderful moment for lion people in over 3,000 communities. me,” wrote homeowner Joan E. Moore, (See www.habitat.org.) Fort Collins “because of the excitement I felt in my- (Colorado) Habitat for Humanity, estab- self and in all the others that were pres- lished in 1993 as an affiliate of Habitat ent—excitement about books.” The fes- International, partners with local families tival, now in its third year, is attended by earning 35-50% of the area’s median in- more Habitat families than any other Fort come. Collins Habitat family event. I’d always been mildly aware of At this year’s festival, families Habitat and, doubting my skill with shopped for books donated by a hammer, wondered how I might Barnes & Noble Booksellers and contribute. Then the thought struck. local organizations, businesses, and Since literacy studies bear out what individuals. The celebration fea- educators tell us—that children who tured dinner, a guest appearance grow up with books in their homes by a local novelist, and formal have a better chance of attaining family photographs. Besides shop- high levels of literacy than children ping for their own books, children without easy access to books—the enjoyed face painting, crafts, and children of Habitat families would games. Every family left with a most certainly benefit from fam- PHOTOS BY RANSY LEE JEFFREY bag of books and a gift certificate ily libraries. The Fort Collins Habitat administrators for a local restaurant or business. Volunteers from the enthusiastically agreed, and Books for Humanity was Fort Collins community and Colorado State University born. greeted families, assisted with children’s activities, and A $6,000 grant from the Ron and Mary Pott Family wrapped gifts. A retired physician snapped candid pho- Foundation made possible the creation of internships tos and lent his good humor to the festive atmosphere. and the purchase of books: dictionaries and thesaurus- The Books for Humanity Committee is now focused es for adults and children (including Spanish-English on securing new grant monies and promoting the pro- dictionaries), atlases, desk encyclopedias, and grammar- gram in other areas of Colorado and the country. For style manuals. Sears Trostel Lumber and Hardwoods and a free start-up manual, contact Deanna Kern Ludwin at Woodley’s Fine Furniture, both local businesses, pitched [email protected].

8 THIS WRITER’S LIFE

FROM ACADEMIA TO EAGLE FEATHERS THIS WRITER’S LIFE BY PAMELA USCHUK

The first of many more encounters with teaching in un- the Sioux—together to share this bleak and wind-razored land traditional environments occurred when I was a graduate stu- just south of the Canadian border. Unemployment and pov- dent at the University of Montana, where I was hired as a poet erty were off the charts. Not only was violence as common as in schools. My first teaching residency was on the Fort Peck road-killed skunks along the two-lane highway, but the suicide Indian Reservation in Poplar, nicknamed “Stab City” because rate and death rate from drunk driving among young people of its high rate of violence. I learned why. Poplar was a tread were also appalling. mark on the Highline, comprised of a gas station, a hamburger It was at Poplar High School that I had one of the most stand, a bank, a few modest houses, and run-down trailers. high-intensity teaching experiences of my life, one that would Our government, purposely, as part of genocidal policies to- permanently tattoo my career. On that first Monday morn- ward Native peoples, put enemy tribes—the Assiniboine and ing, the Indian students wouldn’t look at me (I learned later

9 THIS WRITER’S LIFE

this was a matter of respect rather than of rudeness). And why power, and escaped the incarceration of their minds through would they? I was young and far too blonde. Still, I began the poetry. It gave them an option. Some of them even began to class by talking about images, simple similes and metaphors, publish their work. Eventually I lost some of the students to and the way they carry emotion in a poem. “A diamond is a prison transfers, others to solitary confinement (“the hole”), drop of eagle’s blood,” I said, and I read examples from Na- and others to AIDS, which was very difficult, to say the least. tive writers—Jim Welch, Simon Ortiz, Joy Harjo’s “I Take You I also learned that justice has less to do with justice than with Back,” and others. race and economics. To my astonishment, they related, and they heard poetry While living in New York, I also worked as a poet in pub- as the passionate living thing it is. Students who teachers had lic service and taught at-risk kids in places like the Bronx told me refused to write in class before tried writing poems and Queens. Those kids broke my heart. I would have rather of their own. I sat with students and showed each how to adopted dozens of them instead of sending them home to transform ideas into images. Their responses were overwhelm- crack-addicted moms or abusive fathers, but that, of course, ing. Students like Billy Red Fox and LaVonne Lambert, who was impossible. I remember one little boy from Haiti, small for were flunking, wrote beautiful and moving poems. LaVonne’s his age and probably malnourished, who became very attached powerful dramatic monologue about the degradation of the to me in the week I worked with him and other elementary environment, “The Laughter of the Lesser Lynx,” began with students. The last day in class, he laid his head on his desk and the words, “I see your world and I do not like it.” The lump cried and cried. He wouldn’t lift up his head. I had no way to never left my throat. These students taught me to love teach- comfort him. His teacher couldn’t comfort him, and he has ing. They tapped into a pool of myth and oral tradition to talk haunted me since. about alcoholism, abuse, love, fear, and their dreams. From New York, I moved back to Tucson, Arizona, where Since then, I have often taught where I thought it would I signed on at ArtsReach and where I worked mainly with matter most: to underserved populations—on Indian Reser- Tohono O’odham and Yaqui students as well as with gang kids vations, in prisons, with at-risk students, and in poverty-level in south Tucson. Time after time, whether in Sells or Mesa marginalized communities. I’ve taught poetry to students from Grande or in some tiny school along the Mexican border, the the tribes of Crow, Northern Cheyenne, Assiniboine, Lakotah, students moved me with their sincere hunger for poetry. Navajo, Hopi, Chickasaw, Cherokee, Choctaw, Salish, Flathead, In early 2002, I accepted an associate professor position and Blackfeet, Southern and Mountain Ute, Tohono O’odham, the directorship of the Center for Women Writers (CWW) at and Yaqui, among others. Salem College, where I ran a monthly reading series. Remem- Immediately after graduating with my MFA in creative bering my lessons, I sought to bring diversity to this program, writing, I taught for six years at Greenhaven, a maximum-se- so I instituted the first Native American Women Writers Fes- curity prison for men in Stormville, New York, and I learned tival, featuring Joy Harjo, Luci Tapahonso, and LeAnne Howe; about the warehousing of minority men, especially Blacks and the Black Poets Festival with Tracie Morris, Lyrae van Clief- Latinos, in America. Greenhaven is where John Cheever taught Stefanon, and Evie Shockley; and the Hispanic Writers Festi- creative writing and wrote his novel Falconer. After he left, the val, featuring Demetria Martinez and other Chicana writers. creative writing program had evaporated until I came along. I hired Teri Hairston, the first Black administrative assistant at My creative writing classes became safe havens in which these the CWW. Together we reached out to Winston-Salem’s Black felons could write. It took time and effort to win their respect, community, drawing its members to literary readings they which wasn’t easy for a small-boned woman like me. Roughly would have never participated in. half of my students were convicted murderers, most coincid- In 2005, I moved back to Colorado. My husband, Bill ing with drug-related crimes. This was no romantic teaching Root, and I decided to create a literary magazine, and we did stint. It was down and dirty, but the ignominy, the heartbreak, so with no institutional backing and very little private money. and the labor were well worth it. While some funding for Cutthroat, a Journal of the Arts has My students read and wrote intensely. One of them, an il- come from a few kind and generous donors, mostly it comes literate, had taught himself to read and finished all of Pound’s from our own pockets. We wanted to keep things honest and Cantos, a daunting task for anyone but the most devoted schol- uncomplicated by bureaucracy. Each of us has been published ar. These students worked hard at their craft, spoke truth with in hundreds of literary journals worldwide, journals that al-

10 THIS WRITER’S LIFE lowed our work to fly far beyond the confines of our writing writers such as Marvin Bell, Richard Jackson, Cynthia Hogue, rooms. Fred Chappell, Wendell Berry, Joy Harjo, Naomi Shihab Nye, We knew the basics. Accordingly, we ensured that Cut- Luis Urrea, and Patricia Smith, along with emerging writers throat started small. We enlisted Donley Watt, a fiction writer like BJ Buckley, Howie Faerstein, Tehila Leiberman, Charlotte whose work we admire, to join us in establishing a journal Muse, Rusty Harris and many others. We intend to continue that would publish the very best of the “unknowns” and a broadening our scope. smattering of the literati. We would aim for excellence in craft My focus on giving back to the community and bringing without strangling raw brilliance. poetry to as many people as possible, no matter their circum- We chose the name Cutthroat to honor Colorado’s endan- stances, has fed the hunger in my life and nourished my poetry gered native trout and the endangered art of writing in Ameri- beyond telling. I can’t imagine not doing this. It’s not always ca. We now publish two editions, the print and online editions, easy, but, like learning to swim in deep water, it keeps my life annually. We’re working on our sixth issue and have published energized and amazed.

SUBSCRIBE TO HAYDEN’S FERRY REVIEW

11 GIVING BACK

WRITERS HARVEST EVENTS COLLECT FOOD FOR THE HUNGRY BY HOLLY WILSON On October 21, novelist and screenwriter Richard Price each year. (Clockers, HBO’s The Wire) took to the microphone in Talla- The first Writers Harvest readings were staged in 1993 in hassee, Florida, in a literary effort to fight hunger in America. Oakland by Almaz Abinader, a Mills College professor of cre- He read from his newest novel, Lush Life, to a standing-room- ative writing, and now occur on over two hundred campuses only crowd made up of community members and students nationwide, drawing participation from writers like Dave Eg- and faculty of Florida State’s creative writing program, who gers, Barry Hannah, and Tim O’Brien. each donated ten dollars at the door for a chance to hear These readings are inspired in part by the vision of William Price read. H. Shore, who founded Share Our Strength in 1984. Shore Every fall for the past fourteen years, envisioned using the talents of chefs and the Second Harvest of the Big Bend, part restaurateurs in his effort to fight hunger of the national hunger-relief organization but quickly began drawing on other cre- Share Our Strength, has staged a fiction ative professionals as well, namely writers, and poetry reading called Writers Harvest and produced a series of fiction antholo- at Florida State University. Writers Har- gies published by Harcourt. All profits from vest at Florida State is only one such event the anthologies, including formerly un- in a series of hundreds throughout Octo- published fiction from Joyce Carol Oates, ber and November on campuses all over Tobias Wolff, Barbara Kingsolver, Michael the country, together raising over a mil- Chabon, and Mary Gaitskill, go directly to lion dollars over the last decade to fight SOS, one of the nation’s largest antihunger hunger. Other universities and magazines organizations. such as the Kenyon Review and the Syca- Mark Winegardner, novelist and pro- more Review sponsor annual Writers Har- fessor of creative writing at Florida State, vest events, and there’s even a series of an- has been active in SOS since its inception thologies by the same name whose noted and continues the anthology tradition to contributors donate unpublished fiction benefit SOS with We Are What We Ate: and essays to raise money for Share Our 24 Memories of Food, a Harcourt anthology Strength. of essays in which some of America’s best “It’s easy for people to forget that while art and literature writers examine how food has defined their lives. “I grew up in nourish us, they’re not what actually sustain us, and it’s ter- a two-story brick house that never had an onion in it,” writes rible that there are so many who go hungry every day,” said editor Winegardner in his introduction to the twenty-four es- FSU PhD student Chris Findeisen, who attended the reading says that range from hilarious (Jill McCorkle’s “Her Chee-to at FSU this year. “Writers Harvest is the very least we in the Heart”) to the heartbreakingly poignant (Gita Mehta’s “The literary community can do to help out.” Famine of Bengal”). This sentiment was echoed by the hundreds who attend- The anthologies were published on and off throughout the ed and bid in the popular postreading silent auction, which 1990s, and it’s uncertain whether there will be any future vol- included a range of donated items—from subscriptions to umes. The annual Writers Harvest readings, however, remain a magazines like Hayden’s Ferry Review and Tin House to Disney strong tradition across the country. It’s the most popular read- World passes and even a palm reading by a nationally known ing sponsored by the creative writing program at FSU, usually psychic. attracting a few hundred attendees, including people from the At Florida State’s event, 100% of the proceeds go directly surrounding community who might not ordinarily attend a to helping the hungry and homeless in the Tallahassee com- fiction or poetry reading. munity, including the more than 10% who are children. With For information on organizing an annual Writers Harvest each dollar, Second Harvest of the Big Bend can provide reading in your own community or to learn more about Share fifteen meals, and the event consistently raises over $5,000 Our Strength, visit www.strength.org.

12 MFA PROGRAM

MAKING A CONNECTION ASU WELCOMES PETER TURCHI TO THE CREATIVE WRITING FACULTY BY JUSTIN D. SIKES

Standing in his still-sparse office on the third floor of the technical choices behind every story.” Suddenly a slide and a Language and Literature building, fiction writer Pete Turchi pop as the chair clicks into place—Turchi stands back with a frowns gloriously down at the pieces of a new desk chair. Once triumphant smile. He sits down on the chair, tests it, and then more he hoists the girth of a plush black seat over the thin pole smiles again in satisfaction. “Something above that sense of play that promises to eventually connect the seat to the legs. “My in the writing is important,” he concludes. writing is often shaped by old-fashioned concerns of character Pete Turchi, who started work this fall as the newest fic- and problem, not necessarily called ‘conflict,’” he is saying, mov- tion hire for ASU’s creative writing program, is the author of ing the seat over the top of the pole, waiting for a connection. five books and has served as coeditor with Andrea Barrett and “I need to be interested in the way a story is going to be told Charles Baxter on two different anthologies. His most recent as much as in the content itself. I’m interested in the form and work is Maps of the Imagination: The Writer as Cartographer, an in-

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novative text that explores the ways writers and mapmakers use the nation’s first low-residency MFA program in creative writ- space to present information. Turchi hails most recently from ing, where he directed the program until 2008. the prestigious Warren Wilson low-residency MFA program In a low-residency program, the teaching ratios tend to be in North Carolina, where he served as program director since closer to one-on-one instruction than anything else, and the 1993. In keeping with the themes of his profession, however, workshop component is a small one. In residential programs Turchi’s life as a writer has simple roots. such as ASU’s, the more intensive focus on workshops is some- “I started writing as early as I could think thoughts,” Turchi thing Turchi is adjusting to—and something he offers a word of explains, swiveling in the chair that is one of his new office’s first caution about. personal stylings. “My father was a classic first-generation Italian “There is a sort of default approach to workshops that can storyteller, and my mother always read to my sister and me. Then be troublesome,” Turchi explains. “Patterns can develop wherein one Memorial Day, some bikers were getting arrested outside the focus ends up being on fault. This is a strange way to read and my house. One made a break for it to write—‘what’s wrong with it?’ as and ran past my porch. It was exhil- “THERE IS A SORT OF DEFAULT a means of evaluation. This can neg- arating, and I documented it. This atively affect community and create was my first entry into journalism.” APPROACH TO WORKSHOPS THAT artificial goals for writers.” But Tur- Since then, Turchi has main- chi’s reservations are merely that— tained an interest in journalism and CAN BE TROUBLESOME... PATTERNS reservations and not rejections. “The nonfiction. In college he wrote for workshop can be very, very useful to both the school paper and the un- CAN DEVELOP WHEREIN THE FOCUS writers, but it has to be founded on derground paper, indulging in the the understanding that we’re all here opportunity to report on himself. ENDS UP BEING ON FAULT... THE WORK- to support one another. If not, then He penned movie reviews, screen- the workshop is not only useless but plays, and one or two plays “long, SHOP CAN BE VERY, VERY USEFUL TO detrimental. long ago.” However, Turchi is prob- “We’re here because we all need ably best known for his works of WRITERS, BUT IT HAS TO BE FOUNDED to grow,” Turchi adds. “I say ‘we’ be- fiction and his innovative books ex- cause I believe faculty should grow, ploring writing as a craft. ON THE UNDERSTANDING THAT WE’RE too.” “Mark Twain was important When not on campus, Turchi can as both a journalist and a humor- ALL HERE TO SUPPORT ONE ANOTHER.” be found practicing his penchant ist,” Turchi says, referring to those for gardening and looks forward to who have influenced his writing. experimenting with desert plants. “I “Things like the Hardy Boys, Treasure Island, adventurous stuff don’t grow vegetables or anything useful,” he says with a laugh. and the like. Writers like Hemingway, Fitzgerald, Nabokov, and “I grow stuff that’s nice to look at.” Turchi also has what can be Marquez were important discoveries, even if I don’t write quite called more than a passing interest in the sport of table tennis, like them.” For those students writing realistic fiction, Turchi and that, he’d be the first to point out, is table tennis and not recommends Chekhov, who “brings humanity” to the creative “ping pong.” “Ping pong is a game you play with a drink in process. your hand,” says Turchi. “Table tennis is a sport.” Pete Turchi has had a long and fruitful journey since a biker In addition to his work with MFA candidates, Turchi has a ran past his porch that fateful Memorial Day. After complet- special interest in undergraduate writers and hopes to apply the ing his graduate study at University of Arizona, he moved to lessons he learned at Warren Wilson at all levels of ASU’s edu- Chicago and accepted a 6:6 course load as a lecturer at DePaul, cational strata. “I want to create enthusiasm for writing among DuPage, Loyola, and Columbia Universities. After his first book, undergrads,” he says. “Undergraduate courses in creative writ- The Girls Next Door, Turchi acquired a one-year position at ing offer a chance for literacy and for reading but can also show Northwestern University, also in Chicago, before finally head- students that writing can be fun.” ing south to Appalachian State University in North Carolina. For the spring of 2009, Turchi plans to teach a course in He remained there until accepting a position at Warren Wilson, fiction’s mysteries and how such mysteries work.

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TWO WRITERS REFLECT ON THE PRAGUE SUMMER PROGRAM The Prague Summer Program was an opportunity to focus dents as well as the instructors were free to roam the city, sit in on revising stories while receiving constructive feedback, and cafes alone or with our peers, and worry only about writing, also to explore and experience this spectacular and beautiful and whether or not to order a beer or two with lunch. city with buildings both romantically ornate and influenced Aside from the workshop experience was the lecture se- by the squared, block existence of communism. This year’s ries, which presented authors and intellectuals whose work or theme was The Myth of Innocence: Childhood as Cultural discussions were concerned with the myth of childhood. It Phenomenon. I could imagine that this city, with its literary was an honor to sit in the same room with Ivan Klima, one of history, Kafka, Rilke, Rimbaud, Klima, Lusting, would inspire the great contemporary Czech writers, and hear him speak of reflections as to what it means to have survived and recreated self-publishing under the threat of imprisonment and bodily one’s own childhood experiences. harm. It brought a renewed importance to his works, “Love I had the pleasure and privilege of participating in a three and Garbage,” “No Saints or Angels,” and “Judge on Trial” day a week, three-hour workshop headed by Stuart Dybek, among others. It is difficult to fully convey the experience of who is the recent recipient of the 2007 MacArthur Fellow- being amongst these writers. How does one explain Arnost ship, as well as other prestigious awards. Two stories per class Lusting speaking of his fondness for a woman while living were work-shopped, with criti- in a concentration camp? Other cism and insight given by the other exemplary speakers were Lynn students, and lessons and short lec- Freed, who said “everything we tures on craft given by Mr. Dybek write will do some damage,” and as he saw fit. The atmosphere was “life is a mess, fiction is orderly.” relaxed and unpretentious. Once –BOJAN LOUIS workshop was finished the stu-

At nine-thirty in the morning, such horrible experiences. the hallways of Charles University One part of the workshop I were quiet. Students in the Prague participated in was taught by Jack Summer Program were inside Myers who is the author/editor of their respective classrooms. I sat at seventeen books of and about po- a table in poetry workshop every Monday, Wednesday, and etry. Jack gave us detailed writing exercises for homework. Friday, with a gorgeous view of the Prague Castle and Vltava We had to dig deep inside ourselves to complete, for example, River. I can say that I don’t know too many people who have the task of writing a letter home, telling someone something been given the same chance as me to do this; to live and write that we would not be able to in person, or to write about in Prague. the meeting that would take place between a current and a My favorite of all the lectures was given by Arnost Lustig- younger version of ourselves. I took a writing sample about who recounted his life at fifteen, just before Nazi occupation. being bullied in third grade, for example, from a memory nar- His lecture came after a visit I had to the former concentra- rative that Jack assigned us and turned into a poem that I tion camp at Terezín. Arnost spoke about how a young friend later workshopped and shared at one of the student readings, of his, among others, was killed and how after liberation he which were held every Monday evening. would meet with the boy’s family. He said that his mom be- It was a busy month, and yet I still had time to sit in the lieved that her son was still alive and she would wait for hours beautiful cafés to write, or attend walking tours of the city. each day, by the door. As I listened to him speak I got goose My time spent in Prague was well balanced between hard bumps. He was an amazing storyteller, holding a captive au- work and dedicated reflection. I met some wonderful writers dience for an hour and fifteen minutes. He smiled and told and made some great connections with people that I will also jokes at times throughout his lecture. It blew my mind that carry with me well into my life ahead. And in one heartbeat, he could be so lighthearted today after having lived through I would do it all again. –FERNANDO PEREZ

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RENAMING HOME FINDING POETRY IN ODESSA BY RACHEL MALIS

“Where is your dad from?” was always the first question my known the poem was one among a series about my recent trip teenage friends asked after hearing my father speak. I never un- to Odessa with my father. derstood how they knew he wasn’t a local, as I was. Some- They were right. My view and understanding of my father thing about my proximity to my father made me—still makes is often like that of a much younger girl, and my father, born me—blind to the characteristics and traits that translate him as and raised in Soviet Ukraine, has a past that seems much further “foreign.” I cannot hear his accent. than one generation. As an only child, my closest companions In a graduate poetry workshop this past semester, my col- were my parents, yet my father’s past is still full of gaps and holes. leagues, careful readers, commented that a poem I had writ- Those holes have become a fascination of mine. ten seemed more like an exchange between child and grand- I did not start writing about my father until college, but the parent rather than one between daughter and father. They had material for this work almost always derives from my childhood.

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The first poem was called “Washing Faces” and casually refer- bombardment of renamings. Not only had the name for the enced my father’s experience in the Soviet army, particularly in money changed, but so had the names of the streets, statues, and regard to the incredibly unsanitary conditions. When writing schools. Before, televisions received one or two channels at best, that poem, I was barely beginning to understand that my father’s but our apartment was equipped with a flat-screen TV that had past was strange. His identity as my parent was still the most hundreds of channels. The roads, formally pedestrian only or oc- prevalent identity I knew; cupied by trams and a few stray cars, were all of his experiences that now jam packed with traffic—Japanese- had labeled him otherwise and American-made SUVs. were as foreign to me as Some things, however, my father re- Ukraine. All in all, however, assured me, had not changed. Pushkin’s it was still a poem about a statue still presided over Primorsky Bou- girl being taught by her fa- levard; the Duke of Richelieu still wel- ther to wash her face. comed weary sailors from the port to I have constantly tried the city. The tram still took beachgoers to fill the space between right down to the shore of the Black Sea, us, and poetry is the only and walking was still the best way to get bridge that helps me un- around. My grandfather’s grave still stood derstand this space. The po- unscathed in the midst of the winding ems are my way of coming labyrinth of the Jewish to grips with a parent who owns a past that took place cemetery. far from America, one that is far from American. And I can honestly report because I know I cannot change my distance from my that my father and I saw father’s Ukrainian past, I decided that the best way to and did everything on write my family’s history would be to change my dis- the list we had generated tance from Ukraine, a place I never imagined visiting, for our trip to Odessa. much less with my father, who had always made it clear More importantly, we that he had no desire to return to Ukraine. did a lot of things that I never really thought this sentiment would change, neither of us expected. which is why—when I applied for a fellowship from My father reunited with the Jewish Studies department at ASU, requesting friends from high school, money for a journey that would bring me closer to the people who waved my family and provide material for my MFA manu- goodbye at the train sta- script—I never imagined that my father would be in- tion when he had left terested in making the trip with me. When I finally his hometown for good, asked him, then, I was stunned that he agreed, so sim- and relatives he hadn’t ply, in an email with not more than twenty words. Yes, spoken to in decades. It he was ready to go back. was those individuals, In August, thanks to that fellowship and the encouragement the close friends and family members that made up the cast of of professor Jeannine Savard, I traveled with my father to his characters of his young adulthood, who gave me a tangible link hometown of Odessa. It was nearly impossible for me to imag- to the elusive past that I so badly wanted to know. This link— ine what it would be like to return to a “home” that had been and all the stories that have stemmed from it—has given me known only under another regime. food for poetry that I know I will yet write. The trip itself gave When we arrived in Odessa, my father did not know the me Odessa and its yellow opera house, the beaches of the Black word for Ukrainian money, and during our time there, he con- Sea covered in tiny seashells, the country of my poetry—which stantly forgot it. I believe that the trip, for him, was a constant I thought I’d never know.

17 GIVING BACK JON ALLRED PHOTO BY

TOWARD A HAPPY WORLD A NEW WAVE OF TUTORING CENTERS MAKE HOMEWORK FUN BY DANELLE MALLEN

In the hustle and bustle of commercial capitalism, it can be- a different pay-cycle altogether, one that may or may not pay at come difficult to look up from our money-making-instant-suc- all in this lifetime, her motivation seems incomprehensible. cess schemes long enough to see a more complex world work- And then there are those who seek an even stranger kind of ing around us. We don’t seem to be able to see past the next payment—someone else’s success. Volunteers. It’s a word that expected affirmation. As little ones, we learn to expect our re- evokes hairnets and soup lines but means so much more than ward at the end of a school year: three months of play. As we that. Chances are, if you have an interest, there’s a way for you get older, we begin to understand that grades are a complicated to volunteer in service of it. For writers, that may mean giv- kind of affirmation. Eventually, we get into the groove of a bi- ing a little more thought to the question of teaching by way of weekly affirmation in the form of a paycheck so that when we tutoring. Why tutoring? Because literacy is a huge problem in encounter someone, we’ll say she’s a writer, who seems to be on this country. We live in a country that has been, until recently,

18 GIVING BACK the wealthiest and most powerful country in the world, so when important stories to tell...The confidence and pride that goes there are at least 30 students to one teacher in urban schools; along with that can last a lifetime.” when a student in a rural school brings home the same reader These organizations are ever growing and reaching more her parents used when they were her age; when concerns over students by engaging more writers and publishers. More im- pregnancy, uncertain housing situations, or finding the next portantly, they are now all working together under another Eg- meal eclipse the concern for academic success, we should be gers creation, the Once Upon a School Foundation, which has ashamed. Or, at the very least, we should feel motivated to act. resources for already established organizations as well as ones 826 Valencia is a tutoring center/pirate shop in San Fran- wanted to start up. Instead of disparate groups struggling on cisco that provides after school coaching in exposition and their own, they’ve bound together with the common goal of creative writing. Started by Dave Eggers, the acclaimed author nurturing literacy through creativity and self-expression. of What is the What: The Autobiography of Valentino Achak Deng But not without drawbacks. For Teri Hein of 826 Seattle, and founder of the literary journal McSweeney’s, 826 Valencia her writing has been drastically curtailed. “I do not have time employs over 1400 volunteers from all walks of the language to write as an executive director. This is sad but true. If one industry (writers, editors, interns, is going to found an organiza- documentary filmmakers) to give tion and blast it forward they one-on-one attention every day must work many hours a week to students free of charge. The and there isn’t time for other organization even caught the eye pursuits.” This prospect would of Isabel Allende, who challenged give pause to any serious writer. the high school students to com- It’s important to keep in mind pile an anthology of reflective es- the end goal—that children says answering the question “How and teenagers have a chance do you achieve peace in a violent to claim themselves through world?” Those students are now HN LEWIS literature. Perhaps founding an JO professionally published authors. organization isn’t for everyone, Another tutoring center that especially every writer, but vol- has published its students is 826 PHOTO BY unteers are always welcome and Seattle, a sister to 826 Valencia needed. Davis suggests looking founded by Teri Hein, author of Atomic Farm Girl: Growing Up into OnceUponASchool.org and Idealist.org to find opportu- Right in the Wrong Place. Like its sibling, 826 Seattle is free and nities for getting involved. open to the public. However, one will not be able to find any In March of 2008, at the Technology, Entertainment, and pirate supplies, here—only space traveling supplies. And where Design Conference, Dave Eggers addressed a captivated audi- Isabel Allende was interested in one, Sherman Alexie’s interest ence with a story of success, the success of hundreds of students. was peaked by the other. By the end of its first year, at-risk “The kids weren’t going into ‘The Center for Kids Who Need teens had worked closely with published and important authors More Help,’ or something like that, it was ‘826 Valencia’...They and had their voices heard for the first time—in print, to boot. don’t stall; they don’t do their homework in front of the TV. Heather Davis, a writer and volunteer, has involved herself They’re allowed to...enjoy their family, enjoy other hobbies, get with two tutoring centers, one in Austin and the other in Port- outside, play, and that makes a happy family. A bunch of happy land, ME. The Austin Bat Cave, or ABC, is much like 826 Va- families in a neighborhood is a happy community. A bunch of lencia and 826 Seattle, but it’s run mostly by college students. happy communities tied together is a happy city and a happy The Telling Room, however, focuses on young immigrants and world. Right? So the key to it all is homework.” refugees and helps them increase their English literacy at the Through homework children are finding the stability and same time they tell their story. I Remember the Sound of Rain was encouragement they need to succeed and expand their hori- the first anthology of such stories. Davis says, “I think the great- zons. Imagine what this new foundation will do for them as est achievements for young writers in these programs are seeing adults. Whether they mean to do it or not, they’ll pay it forward their work professionally published or shared with the public in to their own children and their own communities. But the ball some other way so that they are truly recognized as writers with has to start rolling first. Will you push it?

19 COMMUNITY PHOTO BY SCOTT MORRISON

OUT OF THE ASHES VETERANS REFLECTING ON WAR AND PEACE BY PAUL OCAMPO

Out of the ashes they gathered. In 1991, during the first Persian Gulf War, a conflagration When the fires had ceased and they could count their losses, consumed Maxine Hong Kingston’s completed manuscript they came together to rebuild and to heal. entitled The Fourth Book of Peace. In this manuscript, Kingston “The story changes, and you change. And history changes, conjured, or “talked story,” the Chinese myth of the existence too; Viet Nam changes,” National Book Award winner Maxine of three books of peace, books that, unlike Sun Tzu’s The Art Hong Kingston wrote in The Fifth Book of Peace. The tribula- of War, prescribed the pathways to peace. More importantly, tions that Kingston faced when writing this uncategorizable Kingston envisioned her piece to be an extended, modern ver- work—memoir, fiction, tract—inspired her to organize a writ- sion of the Chinese books that were lost, perhaps even burned, ing group composed of war veterans. during centuries of war. Coincidentally, her book would suffer

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the same fate as its antecedents. The Berkeley–Oakland Hills fire On the day after 9/11, Kingston led U.C. Berkeley students, not only burned previous drafts and computer backups of The faculty, and staff, who gathered on Memorial Glade, in mourn- Fourth Book of Peace, but it also claimed the lives of twenty-five ing the victims of the attacks on the World Trade Center to the people and leveled the homes of Kingston and other residents same breathing meditation. Following this moment of silence, in the area. Her book of peace became a ghost of a book, as Robert Hass read a poem on peace. It was at this juncture in Kingston chronicled in The Fifth Book of Peace, published in recent history that I became personally involved with Kingston 2003, a decade after the fire. and her cause. I had been taking her creative writing elective After the fire, Kingston could not write. The devastation had during the fall semester of my senior year at Berkeley; dur- silenced her. Kingston sought inspira- ing class a week after 9/11 is when she tion not from within but rather from first began to describe her work with her community. She sent out a call in the veterans. local newspapers for help reconstruct- Two years later, I would feel power- ing her notes about the lost books of less, discouraged, and voiceless during peace. Veterans and veterans groups my attempts to protest the Iraq War. responded by offering themselves. The disconcerting, debilitating feel- Believing that writing led to healing, ing of not doing enough followed and she established a writing community peaked during the Abu Ghraib tor- composed of war veterans, mostly of ture and prison abuse. A week after I the Vietnam (American) War. Orga- emailed Kingston about my concerns, nized by the Community of Mindful she invited me to join her in the veter- Living and supported by the Lila Wal- ans writing workshop and introduced lace–Reader’s Digest Fund, the first me to a veteran in the process of writ- meeting, the beginning of a three-year ing a novel about the Vietnam War. project, was held at UC Berkeley in At my first workshop, the veterans 1993. Kingston and the veterans met quickly welcomed and embraced me monthly from 1993 to 1996. Even af- into their sangha. They gently assuaged ter the project was scheduled to end, my initial feelings of displacement and however, they kept coming and shar- alienation stemming from concern ing stories. As Michael L. Wong, a that I had never been in battle. Initial- conscientious objector of the war in ly, Kingston, a nonveteran, had sought Vietnam, wrote in the anthology Vet- the assistance of writers who had ex- erans of War, Veterans of Peace that the perienced war to help her teach: Larry workshop produced, “We began as an Heinemann, George Evans, and Grace experiment and had become as a community.” A sangha. Paley, among others. The community of writers met once every season in Sebas- To commence the all-day writing workshop, Kingston would topol, a small town north of San Francisco, beginning in 1996. hold a brass Buddhist altar bell near her heart and gently tap The group of participants had since grown to include veterans the bell with the bai, the wooden striker. The clear, fluid ting from the Persian Gulf War and the Iraq War, the wives, sisters, signaled everyone to silence. For several minutes at the begin- and daughters of fallen soldiers, and peace activists. Kingston ning of each meeting, she would ask the veterans to close their modeled her workshop after Buddhist monk Thich Nhat Hanh’s eyes and during this breathing meditation to be mindful of each retreats for war veterans and their families, which consisted of breath. As they exhaled together, she encouraged them to re- eating and walking mindfully, but she added a writing compo- lease themselves from every burden they were carrying. nent to Thich Nhat Hanh’s program. “We practiced writing in The reading of a poem would then follow the breathing community,” she said. “We would not have to write alone. We meditation. At my first workshop, Poet Fred Marchant read had one another to write with and to write for.” about the homecoming of Odysseus and then shared a couple

21 COMMUNITY

of other poems that touched upon the theme of homecoming. her in organizing the workshop stories and poems for an an- After a round robin of sharing recent changes in their lives, thology and thus began my work with individual veterans. Marchant assigned the writing prompt that participants could Veterans of War, Veterans of Peace, a harvest of the stories and choose to work on or not for the silent two-hour writing pe- poems that veterans and their family members wrote during riod. When Kingston rang the bell, the veterans with pens and Kingston’s writing-and-meditation workshops, was published paper or laptops dispersed and occupied their quiet spaces— by Koa Books in 2006. The anthology has expanded the defini- from the shaded hearth of the living room to the sun-drenched tion of veterans and includes peace activists, a student of Tianan- porch—in the rustic home of one of the veterans, secluded in men Square massacre, and refugees. The veterans also decided to the sylvan glades of Sebastopol. donate 80% of their royalties from the book to CODEPINK, As the veterans wrote in silence, they also shared a meal in the D.O.V.E. Fund, East Meets West Foundation, and Friends of quiet reflection. Everyone brought a Vinh Son Orphanage. vegetarian dish to share with at least TOGETHER WE BEAR WITNESS TO ONE Healing began with Kingston’s thirty other members. The work- motto that the sangha adhered to: shop usually brought back long- ANOTHER. WE LISTEN DEEPLY AND WE “I am determined not to kill, not to time members and every now and let others kill, and not to condone then introduced a new face. But the TRUST ONE ANOTHER. I AM NOT AFRAID any act of killing in the world, in my veterans’ commitment to the work- thinking, and in my way of life.” The shop established a familial sense of OF OVERWHELMING THE OTHERS, community believed that peace and belonging. healing could only come from kind, Toward the end of the workshop, BECAUSE WE’VE ALL BEEN THROUGH merciful gestures—a hug, a tear, a the veterans read their own stories poem, a bow. Healing continued and poems aloud to the group. This HELL AND BACK. HAVING SURVIVED, WE in the writing process. As Kingston was an ineluctable component of wrote in the anthology, “The writ- Kingston’s all-day retreat. Reading ARE GRATEFUL TO NOW WRITE er becomes a new person after ev- each other’s work allowed the vet- ery story, every poem; and if the art erans to “tell the truth and so make TOGETHER. is very good, perhaps the reader is peace.” At the start of the reading changed, too.” exercise, Kingston would evoke To end the writing session of Avalokiteshvara, the bodhisattva of compassionate listening. She the workshop and transition to sharing our stories and poems, would recite, “We aspire to learn your way of listening in order Kingston would ring the bell and start to walk slowly, peace- to help relieve the suffering in the world.” Each person read fully, outside of the house and into the wooded canyon. The aloud and everyone listened compassionately. veterans would fall in line behind her and perform the walking Julie Thi Underhill, haunted by the legacy of the Vietnam meditation, in Kingston’s own words, “the specific antidote to War, recently wrote to me about Kingston’s workshop: “To- the march soldiers learn in basic training.” Kingston would lead gether we bear witness to one another. We listen deeply and we the sangha through unmarked paths, through brush, and over- trust one another. I am not afraid of overwhelming the others, hanging foliage. Dry branches would crack underfoot, the wind because we’ve all been through hell and back. Having survived, would rustle through the pine needles, and the breaths would we are grateful to now write together, read together, and medi- accompany our steps. One time we stopped to admire a deer tate together.” Writing allowed the veterans to reveal truth and that crossed our path. Everywhere there was life. leave a permanent record of that truth. The written word gave life when the writer shared and asked the community to carry FOR MORE INFORMATION ABOUT THE that truth. VETERANS WRITING WORKSHOP AND THE After I had been attending the workshop for a year, writing, VETERANS OF WAR, VETERANS OF PEACE eating, sharing stories with Kingston and the veterans and get- ANTHOLOGY PLEASE VISIT WWW.VOWVOP.ORG. ting to know the members well, Kingston invited me to assist

22 PUBLISHING

SUPERSTITION REVIEW IS CREATING A SUCCESSFUL LITERARY JOURNAL ONLINE BY ERIN MARIE PAQUETTE Patricia Murphy had a unique ambition in the fall says that the possibilities for SR’s growth are endless. Sny- 2007 semester: to create a literary magazine for ASU der thinks that as Superstition Review grows, it will be able Polytechnic’s campus that was carried out completely to reach even more readers because “there will be many online. Writing a proposal for what is now known as the more podcasts, videos and multi-media aspects of the site Superstition Review back in 2006, Murphy remembers that that will bolster its new literary content.” She adds, “I love her goal for the magazine was to take “a multidisciplinary it because people are not restricted to ‘reading’ literature, approach that would allow students to gain experience in they can hear it, they can see it, they can understand it in literary magazines and in design.” Murphy, who has been the way they specifically learn. SR will be more individu- designing websites for her teaching since 1998, knew that alized than ever before.” SR would be the perfect opportunity for her to use the experience she had gained As Snyder mentioned, Superstition Review is all about from teaching online courses. individualization; the interns Murphy also noted that SR during the past and present not only fit with her experi- semester have been deeply ence, but also with the Poly- enriched by their time at the technic mission of hands-on magazine. Kelly Vo’s intern- learning and integration of ship with Superstition Review technology. gave her the practical expe- Even before the first issue rience that wasn’t provided of SR debuted, the hubbub in the classroom: “SR was a surrounding the forthcom- great experience. It was my ing issue caught the eye of first internship as a student Arizona’s East Valley Tri- and it encouraged me to ap- bune. Their article featured, ply for more internships. Af- among others, Patricia Mur- ter SR I felt like I had more phy and Duane Roen, pro- than just my education to fessor of English and Head fall back on and that now of Humanities and Arts in the School of Applied Arts I have more opportunities open to me.” And because of and Sciences at Polytechnic campus. Sara Scoville, one Superstition Review’s online element, students who would of the two current fiction editors, foresees SR’s visibil- otherwise be unable to participate in an internship like ity continuing to rise as it gains respect and recognition. Superstition Review are able to become part of a dynamic “SR has a distinct competitive edge – it is professional, publication online. Murphy encourages anyone who is in- it fosters community, and it provides a hands-on learning terested to apply. experience for students. The authors and work featured SR’s second issue was released in November and in- in the inaugural issue helped to establish a solid founda- cludes poetry from Bob Hicok and Judith Ortiz Cofer; fic- tion, which is evident from the response we’ve had so far tion from Paul F. Griner; non-fiction from Mimi Schwartz with the second issue.” and Samuel Picker; art from Ira Joel Haber; and interviews With two completed issues under its belt, Superstition with Tayari Jones, Stuart Dybek, Steve Almond and Daniel Review has already gained popularity with a wide number Orozco. And lots more. of readers and writers across the country. It has also be- To check out issues 1 and 2, donate to Superstition Re- come a member of the valley literary community, spon- view or to contact the SR staff, please visit their website: soring a three-part reading series each fall and spring. www.superstitionreview.com. Sarah Snyder, the current Reading Series Coordinator

23 Q & A

STEVE ALMOND’s the author of two At the age of 44, MEREDITH HALL story collections, My Life in Heavy graduated from Bowdoin College. Metal and The Evil B.B. Chow, the She wrote her first essay, “Killing novel Which Brings Me to You (with Chickens,” in 2002. Two years later, Julianna Baggott), and the non-fic- she won the $50,000 Gift of Free- tion book Candyfreak. His new book dom Award from A Room of Her is a collection of essays, (Not That You Own Foundation, which gave her Asked). He lives outside Boston with the financial freedom to devote time his wife and daughter Josephine. to Without a Map, her first book.

REBECCA SEIFERLE’s fourth po- DANZY SENNA’s debut novel, Cau- etry collection, Wild Tongue (Cop- casia became an instant bestseller. It per Canyon, 2007) was nominated was a Los Angeles Times Best Book for a Pultizer Prize. Her previous of the Year and one of Glamour’s collection, Bitters (Copper Canyon, three best books of the year by a 2001), won the Western States new writer. Senna’s second nov- Book Award and a Pushcart prize. el, Symptomatic from Riverhead She is the founding editor of the Books, continues to examine the online journal, The Drunken Boat. complicated topic of race.

Q & A STEVE ALMOND, MEREDITH HALL, REBECCA SEIFERLE & DANZY SENNA

HOW HAS YOUR WRITING CHANGED OVER THE YEARS? tice was to burn periodically everything I had written. If there was anything alive in all those words that went up in ashes, I STEVE ALMOND (SA): Oh, gosh. Early on, I was trying to be had a kind of faith that it would fly back to me, take up resi- clever. Then I tried to be deep. At this point, I’m just trying to dence later in some other work. This was followed by a period tell the truth about stuff that matters to me. of time when I’d schedule time for writing; I’d go to my desk whether anything was waiting for me or not. At that period, REBECCA SEIFERLE (RS): Well, in terms of practice my writ- I often revised extensively, probably with an average of thirty ing has always changed. Whenever I’ve arrived at some sort drafts of each poem. After about a decade of this practice, I of routine that seemed a kind of implicit rule, my writing has found myself sometimes writing all the time, for a short but always defied it. For the first fifteen years of writing, my prac- intense period of time. Formally, I always had a sense that each

24 Q & A

poem required its own form and that the poem itself would some of her poems, I don’t feel that there has been any evo- tell me what that form required. I think my earlier work was lution of that particular voice that we hear in her first book. perhaps more discursive, more narrative, and, certainly, as time Whether we call this style or voice, those poets who are most has gone on, my work has become more experimental, push- well known and critically received are those who nail down a ing the limits of the page, making use of all the space on the voice and live in it as if it were a house. For instance, it’s hard page, longer lines, and blurring the boundaries between po- to think of anyone like Neruda, who certainly is always rec- etry and prose, poetry and the monologue. More recently, my ognizable in terms of being Neruda but who is quite varied in writing has been informed by an interchange between text his approach, from the simple to the cryptic, the hermetic to and image, images which are mostly nonrepresentational and the populist. On the other hand, I think some very interesting which I create. I find the text and image exerting a kind of work is being done in cross-disciplinary modes, though it is pull upon one another, demanding a different line of poetry in perhaps more interesting still in the possibilities it affords than the sense of length and rhythm. in the actual results. The situation is tough for young writers, particularly those who don’t fit into one bracket or another. DANZY SENNA (DS): My readers are the best judges of how It’s very difficult to find a way to be heard. my writing has changed. I can only really comment on how my process of writing has changed. I no longer read reviews. WHAT DO YOU SEE AS THE SINGLE MOST IMPORTANT FUNCTION OF I have learned to filter the world at large and to protect my ART, AND HOW DO YOU THINK YOUR OWN WORK FULFILLS THAT FUNC- artist self as if it were a child I were raising. And my interest is TION? no longer so much in producing a perfect work but in staying true to my impulses and remaining productive, committed to SA: Boy, you guys aren’t messing around. These questions feel the larger body of work over a lifetime. I try to stay interested like invitations to a much longer discussion. But okay, the only in the project I am working on in the moment and not most important function of art: to articulate what it means to so interested in the ones that have been published or finished. be human. A close second would be: to make people feel more I have learned that once I publish a book, it belongs to the than they did before. Does my work fulfill those goals? No world and I have nothing more to say about it. idea. But that’s where I’m aiming.

HOW WOULD YOU CHARACTERIZE THE POETRY OR PROSE BEING WRIT- MEREDITH HALL (MH): Art is a vital and complex response to TEN TODAY, AND HOW DOES YOUR OWN WORK REFLECT THAT CHARAC- the human craving for both understanding of the existential TERIZATION? questions and for beauty. Art binds us to each other in those quests, the hungers shared. It is that sense of deep connection SA: There’s too great a range of work being produced in all to others, not simply the art itself, that provides the thrilling genres to offer any kind of overarching characterization. As for sense of recognition when we experience art. my own work, the rough goal is to write stories that the guys When I wrote my memoir, Without a Map, I imagined that in my poker game will enjoy. three or four hundred people would ever read it. That released me into a very honest and intimate telling. As the book, and RS: There’s such a variety of work being written today that my life, moved into such a public eye, I balked. And then a it’s hard to characterize it, though there are broad areas that strange thing started to happen: people read the book and could be noted. Much of the “market” is dominated by the want, in turn, to add their own stories: “Listen to me,” they predictable and often flatly written bestseller. Many poetry say. “Listen to the ways in which I make sense of a life.” The collections inhabit the sort of well-crafted but unadventurous threads of my written art bind writer and reader in an explo- personal-lyric category. In internet writing, I’ve been struck ration of meaning and of wonder. I ask large questions: What by how a kind of writing has developed that is almost “anony- is love and forgiveness? Why do we suffer loss? What can we mous.” This contrasts with print-published poets, those who make of grief? Why are we bound so profoundly with family? have found a kind of niche, a voice that they inhabit for de- Why does joy and calm arise from sorrow, as if they are sib- cades. I first read Luise Glück’s work in Marshland and liked it lings? Readers know these questions and need very much to very much, and while I’ve continued to read her work and like speak their tentative answers out loud.

25 Q & A

RS: I always liked that quote by Isak Dinesen when a young Germanic, et cetera, originates out of the structure of slavery: writer asked her why write, and she said, “Write because you to indicate those who were free members of one’s clan or owe God an answer.” Or when Rilke says there is no reason household—which is to say those who were not slaves. to write except a sense of impelled necessity. I think the single I think the political consciousness of writers must be aware most important function of art is to testify to, to encounter, of how wielding language can result in an implicit perpetua- and to witness the human. Though, in so doing, art is also tion of the power structures of oppression regardless of what creating the human, what we mean by “human,” envisioning one intends or more overtly states. The contemporary politi- possibilities for being, different ways of connection, relation- cal environment is rife with examples of people speaking out ship, perception. against various injustices but doing so while using language that covertly perpetuates the fundamental structure of ineq- DS: After my first novel was published—a novel with political uity. The sexism directed toward female candidates in the re- undertones about race in America—interviewers and audience cent political campaigning is a case in point. I’m not sure in members alike often asked me: What was your point when you such cases if the view arguing for equality isn’t defeated by the wrote this novel? My answer was always that I had no point. If underlying and implicit agreement with cultural stereotypes I’d had a point, I could have just written down a sentence and about women in which it is packaged. skipped writing the four-hundred page novel. The scenes, the There’s that childhood rhyme “Sticks and stones may hurt characters, the language—those were my points. my bones/ But words will never hurt me.” But I think that The reason I started writing novels was that I loved to read words do hurt and that, furthermore, language provides the novels. I wanted to write the novels I wanted to read but did implicit context, cultivates the covert emotional climate, as not yet exist. well as the intellectual framework, the justification in language I make art because I love it. It has no obvious function, and for the sticks and stones that follow. Rhetoric always precedes that is of course its power. Perhaps its only function is to make and lays the groundwork for the invasion. Writers, being aware us more in touch with our humanity. of the power of language, can speak out against such occasions but can also speak within the language so that a space for a WHAT RESPONSIBILITY, IF ANY, DO WRITERS HAVE TO VOICE THEIR more human utterance, more human possibility and connec- OPINIONS ABOUT WAR AND OTHER RELATED ISSUES? tion, can be created. Those writers whose work matters deeply to me, like Celan, like Vallejo, are those who wrote within the RS: Just as much as any other citizen, though any time you oppressor’s language, putting great pressure upon the language strong-arm the reader, you’re really making rhetoric, not art. to drive it back to its roots and create a different space, a kind of “message in a bottle” within that language. Even when we RS: The Poets Against the War movement, begun by Sam Ha- are writing in our “native” (and what a term that is!) language, mill, was the first real organized grassroots resistance to the we are writing within the oppressor’s language, within a lan- war in Iraq, and like many other writers I answered Sam’s call guage that in its roots excluded, proscribed, or devalued vari- for work, just as I participated in several local demonstrations. ous aspects of our own experience. Contrary to Plato, writers are citizens of the Republic and, as such, like all thinking and feeling citizens, have the responsi- RS: I think as human beings—not necessarily as writers—we bility to voice their opinions about political issues. But beyond have a responsibility to voice our opinions about war and the this, the writer’s responsibility seems to me to rest upon every welfare of the world. But the language I use to speak out against word she writes. Language itself is full of the historical weight war is different from the language I use to write a novel. The of oppression, of judgments that came to rest painfully upon political language has a goal, a tangible aim. When I write fic- the shoulders or lodge in the skull. The word, in its roots, tion, on the other hand, I am seeking to complicate, obfuscate, testifies to the power structure in which it originated and still entertain, and question. There is of course a relationship be- bears that weight. For instance, the word “friend” is connected tween these two languages, but they don’t come from the same in its etymology to the word “free,” in the Sanskrit root “pri- place inside of me. And in fact, when I sit down to write fiction, yah,” “own, dear, beloved.” This connection between the word I have to kick the more didactic political voices out of the room “free” and “friend,” in the Sanskrit but also later in the Celtic, so that they don’t get in the way of me telling the truth.

26 Q & A

DO YOU SUBSCRIBE TO A PARTICULAR THEORY OR UNDERSTANDING MH: It means that the artist loves her subject without condi- OF LANGUAGE OR ART, AND IF SO, WOULD YOU DESCRIBE WHAT IT tion or ego. If we resist that love, we remove ourselves from INVOLVES? the large conversation, the quest to understand. We are able to know, if we release ourselves into the other, no matter what. SA: My understanding of language is that, in its exalted mo- ments, it aspires to song. RS: To truly know is to know in the body. The common ex- pressions, “I realized,” “Suddenly I saw,” et cetera, signify that MH: I have my own theory, which is an adamant love for and moment when knowledge, previously held in the mind, dawns gratitude to the English language. I sometimes hear people say within the body. And, conversely (for it moves in both di- that they cannot find the words, that what they feel and think rections), that moment when experience, previously held in is inexpressible. I think that everything is expressible, that this silence in the body, dawns within the mind. Knowing in the language is precise and aston- poetic sense is knowing in ishingly rich. The words exist. AFTER MY FIRST NOVEL WAS PUBLISHED... the cells and in the bones I don’t know how that is so— of one’s being, both meta- how hallowed and sacred and INTERVIEWERS AND AUDIENCE MEMBERS ALIKE phorically and literally. This sanctified and blessed each movement in both directions came to voice—or why we OFTEN ASKED ME: WHAT WAS YOUR POINT is a movement from the in- needed, so long ago, to con- articulate to the articulate, vey our experience so exactly. WHEN YOU WROTE THIS NOVEL? MY ANSWER though I’m thinking of artic- I imagine it was the same at ulate also in the sense of the the beginning of language as WAS ALWAYS THAT I HAD NO POINT. IF I’D HAD body’s articulations, which now: if we can say our story make movement possible. precisely, we feel understood, A POINT, I COULD HAVE JUST WRITTEN DOWN Much of language is move- and if we are understood, we ment and breath, and when I are not alone. A SENTENCE AND SKIPPED WRITING THE FOUR- talk previously about making space within the language, RS: Well, I think that words HUNDRED PAGE NOVEL. I’m talking about a space for are a matter of life and death. –DANZY SENNA that movement and breath to I am also very much a femi- enter language. Much of my nist and aware of how female own work is informed by the experience has been circumscribed, erased ala Lacan, dimin- rhythms, the attention to breath, that I learned while taking ished and marginalized in language, as when Hugh Kenner care of and often being midwife for a herd of goats. That re- said the many literary women of the Paris Left Bank in the sponsiveness to another inarticulate body is not so different early twentieth century had vanished and left only one man of than hearing and following the breath, the responsiveness, to note, Ezra Pound. I am perhaps preoccupied with language in the inarticulate body of experience within one’s own life. terms of the practice, if not the theory, of semiotics, of reading the “signs” within the text of the world. Still, I would have to HOW DO YOU MAKE YOUR PERSONAL EXPERIENCE USEFUL TO say that my understanding of art or language is implicit, rather STRANGERS? than theoretical; that is, it has developed organically out of my own experience rather than an intellectual commitment to a SA: By trying to be as honest as possible about my ongoing particular theory. idiocy.

WHAT DOES IT MEAN TO KNOW YOUR SUBJECT? MH: By being absolutely, terrifyingly honest.

SA: I don’t know that you can ever know everything about RS: The assumption that one’s personal experience can be your subject. What matters is that you’re obsessed with it. useful to strangers often seems, in practice, to lead to instruc-

27 Q & A

tion—the lecture, the didactic approach. I prefer language as of historical and individual experiences. One of the difficul- an encounter. By communicating in all of its forms, we make ties of teaching and reading poetry is that it often requires our personal experience useful to strangers but only as a natu- knowing a great deal outside the poem, the sort of climate ral consequence, a sort of gift that flows out of the encounter. in which the work originates. I remember working on a par- The intensity of expression that is possible in poetry creates ticularly densely opaque poem in Vallejo’s Trilce and realizing a different space and a different sense of connection between that the event in which the poem was grounded, an event strangers because it opens us all to what is strange within our- that was outside the poem but a kind of shadow context or selves, to welcoming what we have dismissed or marginalized background, was a marriage, a very particular marriage though within ourselves. I lived for a long time in New Mexico, and common to the Andean highlands. A good many of the poets while there I was very struck by the tradition of storytelling that I love, that I’ve spent years reading—like Vallejo, Celan, among my Dineh friends. Storytelling is not merely a personal Dickinson—are deeply particular, peculiar even, their work narrative. Though it begins in personal experience, the story not about but containing the air of a particular geography, is told out of an intersection between the personal and the historical intersection, climate of thought. So the effort that is cultural, where the private intersects with the historical and required to encounter their work deeply is perhaps no further social. The “I” is a kind of voice for the story; that is to say, one than the distance to an aboriginal tribe in New Guinea. So to makes oneself useful to the story. return to your question, as a translator, I don’t know. As a poet, I would hope so. DS: Paradoxically, whatever has made me feel the most like an outcast in my life is the very thing—when placed in the lives DO YOU SEE ANY LIMITATIONS TO YOUR ART? IF SO, WHAT ARE THE of my characters—that seems to have the most resonance with IMPLICATIONS OF THOSE LIMITATIONS? the largest number of people. That’s one of the nice things about writing. You can be having a horrible experience, and SA: I see nothing but limitations to my art. It’s made of limita- you can be sure that it will someday be useful to you and oth- tions. The only implication of those limitations is that I have ers if you can only write about it well enough. to keep working to suck less.

IF TRANSLATED, WOULD YOUR WORK BE MEANINGFUL TO, SAY, TO AN MH: No, I don’t. The stories that express our questions are in- ABORIGINAL TRIBE IN NEW GUINEA? PLEASE EXPLAIN. finite. The human heart and mind are infinite and so promise characters that excite and provoke and lead us. The language SA: I have no idea. But the best writing involves speaking that is our tool is ample. This is an exciting time to be a writer: about the human condition, forcing us to feel sometimes un- the boundaries of form are mutable, and readers are especially bearable feelings. That’s a universal need, which is why every hungry. culture has its storytellers. HOW COULD ART BE MADE MORE VITAL AND USEFUL TO A PUBLIC RS: Well, what particular tribe? I’ve always been struck by the SATURATED IN TECHNOLOGY? remoteness of any living poem. I’ve spent years reading and studying Dickinson. But it wasn’t until I was living in Massa- SA: If I knew the cure for screen addiction, for the joyous chusetts and looking out from my back porch into the empty semiliteracy of the current era, I’d have dumped it into our playground of a neighboring school and then, across the street, water supply by now. We’ve made convenience our new God, at the cemetery that I felt suddenly that I understood her and reading isn’t a convenient experience. There’s not much poem “Because I could not stop for Death” in ways I hadn’t to say about this except that writers have to be stubborn about before. That way in which a cemetery dating back to Pilgrim reaching those who aren’t readers and turning them on. times is a part of every New England town, across the street from a school, in the middle of a neighborhood, makes death a MH: The vitality and usefulness are already there. We need neighborly and continuous presence. A particular poet’s work to pry children and adults out into the world, invite them to is always deeply embedded within and embodies the particular remember that they have questions about what it means to be. occasion of its origins—intersections of the private and public, I don’t know how we do that.

28 Q & A

RS: In April 2000, I created an online magazine, The Drunken part of the marketing of the poet. Poetry readings, where one Boat, www.thedrunkenboat.com, hoping to create a space for can rub elbows with the poet afterward, are more viable and international poetry and for work that is drunken in the sense well attended than there are readers for books. There are other of intoxicated with its possibility, a space for more experimen- factors involved in poetry readings, the voice of the poet for tal works, longer works, that might not find a venue in the instance often lets one hear the work in depths one hadn’t world of print publication with its expenses. The magazine before. So I don’t mean to diminish that, but it would be use- is entirely online and free. I think poets, writers, artists of all less to ignore the fact that the lack of value assigned to poetry types, are exploring at present many of the forms and venues in this culture has various unfortunate consequences. In the available to technology, sometimes with the technology alter- art world, though, the situation is very different. I’ve known a ing the sense of art itself. I don’t know though that art is use- painter or two who works on large canvases because those can ful to a public in general; it doesn’t lend itself to the illustra- sell for six figures and who distinguishes between that salable tive, even though most great made-to-scale work and oth- art has become at this point a er more intimate pieces. I’ve snippet in one ad campaign or IF I KNEW THE CURE FOR SCREEN ADDICTION, been lucky in the sense of be- another. I value art precisely ing able to follow a particular because of its lack of useful- FOR THE JOYOUS SEMILITERACY OF THE dream, of wanting to write, ness, how it resists becoming of feeling I had to, and find- a means to an end. CURRENT ERA, I’D HAVE DUMPED IT INTO OUR ing that the means to making a living followed from that. HOW WOULD YOU CHARACTERIZE WATER SUPPLY BY NOW. WE’VE MADE CONVE- Though for years as a young THE RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN ART writer, I was not sure that I’d AND COMMERCE AS YOU HAVE EX- NIENCE OUR NEW GOD, AND READING ISN’T A ever have anything published. PERIENCED IT? DS: I love the last months of CONVENIENT EXPERIENCE. finishing a novel, the private SA: More or less like the re- editing process, and I hate lationship between skin and –STEVE ALMOND publishing a novel. It always hydrochloric acid. You either feels unsettling to me to cast move units or you move people. There might be some overlap the work out into the world, into the hands of marketers and between the two, but it’s largely accidental. editors, to be sold and read. Maybe that is why I write as slowly as I do—to prolong the private process. Or maybe I’m MH : It never occurred to me that my book would make mon- just by nature slow at completing things. Probably the latter. ey, that money had anything at all to do with the terribly difficult thing I was doing every day. I am very glad for that IS THERE A DIFFERENCE BETWEEN THE REALITY OF YOUR ART AND THE ignorance, and I cultivate it. We can’t make art make money REALITY OF YOUR LIFE? without losing something vital. If it happens to make money behind our backs, that’s very nice, a big surprise. Let it remain SA: Oh, gosh. The reality of my life is sitting around in my a surprise. underwear hating myself. It’s crushingly boring. The reality of my art is occasionally more interesting. RS: What relationship? There is no clear transaction between the practice of a poet and commerce. Poetry is sometimes re- MH: I ask again and again in my memoir, “Is this right? Is this ferred to as the “po-biz,” a term in which I always hear the the way it was? It is important. I have to get it right.” The sto- dialectic “poor.” The poet frequently makes a living doing ries must press at the truth. something else—teaching, writing genre fiction, pursuing an- I am writing fiction now and create a reality, or many reali- other line of work. As a result the business of poetry has be- ties, character to character and story to story. But to the extent come mostly a marketing of oneself, the practices of network- that the effort must always be toward the truths I hold—my ing, reviewing, even being published in various magazines, as only understanding—I am present in every moment.

29 Q & A

RS: Writing a poem, or the written poem, is only a part of the struck me reading the reviews of these novels that 9/11 is the reality of one’s life, but a part that reflects the whole. So more most shocking and terrifying thing that has ever happened to fundamentally, no, there is no difference between the reality most Americans, whether they were anywhere near it or not. of my art and the reality of my life; one has often followed It seems in most of these novels 9/11 is written about as if it after the other. I am sometimes stunned to read an old work were something crazy that just happened, as bizarre as a giant and realize that it knew so much that I was only dimly aware meteor crashing on New York. It is written about without a of. I have sometimes realized in reading a poem I wrote sev- before—a leading up to the event—and without an aftermath. eral years before that my life had followed the trajectory that The trauma exists only in that ash-sprinkled moment. This was mapped in those words. I think art is often ahead of life; feels to me like a particularly American point of view. it originates in some deeper level that is less concerned and overwhelmed with the daily and its charges and so speaks from WHAT DO AMERICAN WRITERS HAVE TO TEACH OTHER WRITERS IN THE some deeper patterning. WORLD? WHAT MIGHT THEY LEARN?

HOW DO YOU THINK THE CONCERNS OF AMERICAN WRITERS DIF- SA: There’s nothing of enduring consequence Americans can FER RIGHT NOW FROM THE CONCERNS OF OTHER WRITERS IN THE teach other writers that those same writers couldn’t teach us. WORLD? The stuff that matters has nothing to do with cultural condi- tions but what Faulkner called the “old verities.” Courage, fear, SA: For the most part, American writers don’t have to worry despair, joy—that sort of thing. about basic necessities and are allowed to write whatever they please. So our concerns are pretty petty measured against the RS: My own work has been most influenced by writers from precincts of real suffering on earth. Then again, we’re living in Latin and South America and also by French writers when I the world’s only Super Power in an historical moment when it was young. What I learned from those writers was a bodily has lost its way. We have the opportunity to wake our citizenry sense, a sense of the materiality of language, its tangible quali- from its long moral slumber. ties, the way feeling has a body, in the work of Neruda and Vallejo or from the French, the way the tongue has teeth, how RS: Oh, this is a huge question. The concerns of writers are words can bite in such a way that they leave an ache in the often reflective of the concerns of their particular culture or mind. There are so many writers in the world and from vari- society. This is a huge country with a diverse population and ous traditions that I think the possibilities of encounter and geography, and often the American public pays attention to learning are almost endless. But to really learn from another that and to its own personal concerns. American writing simi- writer, one has to hate or love the other writer, and that, like larly is more preoccupied with the personal and has less, or lit- all intimate relationships, is very particular, spontaneous, and tle, sense of connection with a community, a people. We have impossible to predict. an extensive workshop system, and often each of the MFA programs has its own implicit canon, so there is often a sense DS: I was on a panel of American writers in France several of jockeying for position among American writers, in terms of years ago. The feeling of the French journalists present was professional standing, in terms of career success, in where to very anti-American. The American writers were also very place one’s work theoretically. In general, and I hate to say it, I down on America, with much good reason. But I did wonder think the concerns of American writers are very insular. Much as I sat there listening to the French pillory America—the land of the writing in other parts of the world has a sense, at least of trash culture and George Bush—why there was still such implicitly, of being connected to a community, of speaking to an interest in American literature. And I thought of what the or for a people or a culture. French lack—a kind of hybrid vigor that we have, if nothing else. An implicit understanding that it is in the mess of culture DS: I have noticed in the past years an extraordinary number clash that interesting art arises, not in the museum-like purity of novels about 9/11. From a literary angle, I am sure some of of Paris. them have been good and some of them have been bad, but it

30 WRITERS CONFERENCE

DESERT NIGHTS, RISING STARS WRITERS CONFERENCE PREVIEW 2009 BY ROSE SWARTZ

Like the Piper House itself, the 2009 Desert genre-hopping writer Percival Everett, who has Nights, Rising Stars (DNRS) conference is small, written sixteen novels, three books of short fic- cozy, and filled to the brim with writers, energy, tion, and one book of poetry. resources, and activity. Participants of the con- Returning faculty—back by popular demand ference can attend small classes and workshops as well as by their own volition—include po- taught by a wide range of impressive guest fac- litically conscious poet Carolyn Forché, creative ulty. Professional development panels and classes nonfiction writer Dinty Moore, local award- are also offered alongside more traditional writ- winning memoirist and performance artist Ta- ing workshop sessions. Popular topics returning nia Katan, and activist, teacher, and poet Mary from last year include “Careers in Writing” and Sojourner. A participant from the previous year ALICE SEBOLD “Publishing Your Work.” The unique setup of the commented that Sojourner’s class alone was DNRS conference allows participants to spend worth the admission price of the conference. time in small groups with acclaimed writers from All four days of the DNRS conference prom- many different backgrounds and genres. In addi- ise to provide an enriching and inspiring blend tion to the classes, discussions, and workshops of- of discussions, readings, and professional devel- fered daily, the conference also presents afternoon opment and will be packed with literary activity and evening readings. during the evenings as well. The 2009 confer- The 2009 conference faculty is an eclectic mix ence will also host the Poetry Out Loud State of local and national superstars. Nancy Mairs, a Finals. Poetry Out Loud, a national recitation poet and essayist who resides in Tucson, will give contest for high school students in the United a reading and instruct a nonfiction workshop, as PERCIVAL EVERETT States, began nationally in 2005 and is sponsored will nonfiction writer Steve Almond, arriving all by the Poetry Foundation and the National En- the way from Boston. Natasha Tretheway, whose dowment for the Arts. book Native Guard won a Pulitzer Prize in 2007, Participants who offered feedback for the pre- is one of many DNRS featured readers, includ- vious year listed the variety of small group classes, ing others such as author Mary Ruefle, who has the high level of instruction, and the excellence written several books of poetry, most recently A of the readings as their favorite things about the Little White Shadow, in which she uses “erasures” conference. One participant commented that the on found text to create new poems. conference was the highlight of her year. Con- A typical day at the DNRS conference begins ference attendees can be assured that there are with morning craft and workshop classes. After- NATASHA TRETHEWAY plenty of coffee and dinner breaks as well as am- noons usually include multiple readings, profes- ple time for socializing in the way of down time. sional development panels, discussions, and events Additionally, conference participants can get to such as “Meet the Writers,” where participants know each other better (and show off some of gather in the garden behind the Piper House to the great writing they’ve accomplished during interact with the faculty in a more relaxed set- the conference) by participating in an open-mic ting than the classroom. Conference days conclude session on Saturday afternoon. with evening readings. Some of the big names on You can register for the conference or view the 2009 reading agenda include Alice Sebold, au- more information by visiting the Piper Center thor of the bestselling novel The Lovely Bones. The for Creative Writing Website at conference will also welcome award-winning, KEVIN PRUFER www.asu.edu/piper/conference.

31 GENRE

WHOSE LINE IS IT ANYWAY? WHEN YOUR CHARACTERS LEARN TO TALK BACK BYJESSICA DEVOE RILEY

“I questioned myself a lot more than I expected to” was the so many stories in the world, but the voice in the back of my answer I consistently gave whenever anyone asked about my head was already taunting me. You shouldn’t have come here. first time attending a writing conference. It started in the first I had always thought it would be cool to be a writer, but a workshop. Another writer read a compelling short story about a bad experience with a critical theory course in college led me woman who hides her emotions in her music. I was riveted be- to believe I wasn’t good enough. Intimidated by my classmates cause I happen to have written a novel with a heroine who does and their discourses on the aesthetic and the pursuit thereof, the Exact. Same. Thing. Two workshops later, another woman I decided that I didn’t know what it meant to be a writer. Of read an excerpt from her novel, a scene where a girl cuts herself, course, that never stopped me from having story ideas. I scrib- and I thought, hmm, my heroine does that, too. I attempted to bled characters and plotlines and titles wherever my pen met a brush the incidents off with the knowledge that there are only blank space: journals, the margins of my notebooks, my date-

32 GENRE book, the backs of receipts and business cards, paper placemats “Oh yeah? Well maybe you’d like to hear about my new ending. at restaurants (though I drew the line at toilet seat covers). I col- You die.” lected these notes into binders, where they sat in a crate on my “Yeah, right. If you kill me off, where will you get your redemp- closet floor alongside other failed projects, my sewing machine tion?” and resistance band. Sass. Years later, after the birth of my second child, I walked into In a workshop the following day, the instructor said, “Tell my closet and plopped onto the floor next to the crate. I wanted me who your favorite writers are, and I bet I can tell you what to do something that wasn’t all about baby and had decided to genre you write in.” I wish she’d called on me to answer the read my old notes in hopes of finding a good laugh. I came question, because I suspect she’d have gotten it wrong. My fa- across a paper ripped out of an old notepad. All I had written vorite authors are male and write humorous nonfiction—guys was, “Mama dances for the Japanese soldier.” like David Sedaris and Chuck Klosterman. My writing is not My grandmother, Mama, lived in the Philippines during the like theirs. It’s more like Alice Hoffman’s, whom I also enjoy WWII Japanese occupation. She had been walking home from reading. At first, I thought nothing of the instructor’s remark, church one day with her children when she encountered some but by the end of the night I was dwelling on it. Am I writing Japanese soldiers, one of whom pointed a gun at her and told in the wrong genre? Am I reading in the wrong genre? How do her to dance. So she danced. My aunt claims it was the only I not even know what kind of writer I should be? time she ever saw my grandmother dance. But why did the “Hey! Aren’t you going to yell at me to be more original?” soldier do that? Why didn’t my grandmother ever dance before? “I’m not talking to you tonight. I’m having an identity crisis. I don’t I found myself wondering about the missing details of her story know what kind of writer I am.” so much that I decided to create them, a story later titled “To “How many kinds are there?” Dance.” I felt a rush of relief: I had a voice that said something “For starters, there are the kinds who are published and the kinds besides, “I’m Mommy.” who are not. There are also the kinds who are crazy and have conversa- After writing at home for almost a year and not sharing my tions with their characters.” work with anyone, I enrolled in a creative writing class. The “I thought a writer was someone who wrote to be heard.” critiques of my stories weren’t quite the upheaval of all that is “Well, nobody hears me.” good and holy that I’d feared. In fact, they were helpful. I took “I do.” more courses and befriended other writers. “But you’re my character, part of me. That doesn’t count.” Fast forward to three years later: my first writing confer- “Since when?” ence. I showed up with my completed novel, which had already Have you ever gotten so focused on something that you for- been read by writers whose opinions I respected. The first two got why you started doing it? days of workshops delivered the two initial blows to my ego I I’d been spending so much time worrying over where I described. The nights were given over to minibar sampling and wanted to go with my writing, I’d forgotten why I started do- imaginary conversations between my novel’s heroine and me: ing it in the first place. Writing was my way of giving myself a “What makes you stand out?” I asked her. “What makes you so space to talk and be heard. Now, some people never take their different and special?” writing beyond fulfilling an emotional need. I chose to take an- “Ask yourself that before you bother with me,” she said. other step, to pursue writing as my craft and to share it. I want Sass. to be heard and not just by myself. But in my quest to be heard In a marketing course, the instructor recommended I play up by others, I shouldn’t ever forget that the first thing my writ- the New Orleans setting to make my book stand out. I followed ing must fulfill is my need. If I lose track of that, I lose track of her advice when I attended my agent sessions, and the agents re- myself (and wind up with an expensive minibar tab). sponded with encouraging smiles and the polite suggestion that To say I attended a writing conference and wound up ques- I needed more. Back in my hotel room at the end of the night, tioning myself isn’t to say I had a bad experience. In fact, I had a more conversations with my novel’s heroine ensued: really important realization. Rainer Maria Rilke said, “The only “The setting wasn’t enough. I need you to do something more, be journey is the one within.” My writing used to just be a record something more.” of that journey. Now, it’s an active participant and, sometimes, “I am who I am. I’m not going to ‘be’ more—whatever that the catalyst. means—because you said so.”

33 GIVING BACK

ASU’S YOUNG WRITERS PROGRAM TEAMS UP WITH FREE ARTS OF ARIZONA BY RYAN HEISEL

In August of this year, Arizona State University’s Young remarkable. The Young Writer’s Program continues to see Writers Program (YWP) partnered with Free Arts of Arizo- significant changes in teenagers who thought they had little na, a nonprofit organization that sparks the creative spirit of ability to write at the outset of the program and who left abused, homeless, and at-risk children in Maricopa County. viewing themselves as writers, each with their own voice The week-long collaboration was established by Jessica Flow- and story. “Essentially,” said Nevin, “through poetry, we are ers of Free Arts and YWP director Sean working to demystify what writing is for Nevin. YWP is a program under ASU’s these kids. When they understand that Office of Youth Preparation housed in their lives are worth writing about, that the Office of the Vice President for Edu- their ideas are the stuff of literature, and cation Partnerships. The program’s goal is that their stories are not only worth tell- to provide early positive arts experiences ing but that they also need to be told, it through creative writing to the K–12 can be an empowering moment in their community. YWP primarily works with lives and a real change in their perspec- underserved populations and provides tives.” students with the tools to explore their Hammerton, an MFA graduate who own lives through poetry and fiction. currently works as both an instructor Using a YWP arts-based curriculum, and a teaching artist, has over eight years poet and ASU graduate Tina Hammerton of experience as a social worker in the facilitated a creative writing workshop to fields of domestic violence and foster a group of fifteen teenage girls living at care. She sees her social mindedness as a Sunshine Group Homes, a shelter for ne- reflection of her family—her mom is a glected and abandoned children. To bring nurse and her dad a high school teach- creative writing into this setting, Ham- er—and from an early age remembers merton, who designed the workshop for “being shocked at people not getting the collaboration, introduced poets like their needs met.” For Hammerton, art Lucille Clifton and Phillip Levine and is service, and the poetry of witness is lead the kids in exercises to write their “THE HEART” BY CALVIN, AGE FIFTEEN. MEDIUM: stagnant in the hands of literary circles own poetry. Hammerton worked with MONO SILKSCREEN. THIS ARTWORK WAS CREATED if it is not accessible to the people who the teenagers both individually and in DURING FREE ARTS OF ARIZONA’S MULTICULTURAL need to hear it the most. Part of her small groups, offering encouragement ARTS CAMP 2008. WWW.FREEARTSAZ.ORG. mission is to bridge this gap. and constructive criticism, but, above that, she gave the If funding wasn’t an issue, she would like to dedicate her teens a way to turn the often challenging environment of energies again toward her area of previous expertise, work- the group-home setting into something positive through the ing with organizations such as Chrysalis, a shelter for women exploration of their life experiences. Hammerton identifies located in Phoenix, while continuing her important work this as a change of expression or mood and says that at the with at-risk youth. Aware that entities that donate or grant most basic level YWP is “giving them an early positive art money often like to see those funds going to the direct ben- experience.” The collective support given by teaching artists efit of children, Hammerton imagines sustainable ideas for and the children to each other creates a space for the teens improving the long-term success of outreach programs, such to look at themselves differently, to recognize their unique as training shelter staff members to carry on the creativity abilities and shared common ground. and introducing workshops for whole families that would The improvement in self-esteem and self-perception in have the dual purpose of supporting artistic expression and the children who participate in the writing workshops is strengthening relationships.

34 ALUMNI UPDATE

HOW TO LOSE YOUR REMAINING HAIR LIFE AFTER MFA GRADUTION BY BILL KONIGSBERG

When I took my most recent job as a sportswriter and editor ing was about to be tested in a major way. at the Associated Press, my boss said, “This job will make you a Two years later, I think I can fairly say that no amount of better fiction writer.” writing sports stories—or worse, editing them—is particularly How wrong she was. helpful to the task of writing fiction. The two skills use com- I started that job in November 2006. Little did I know that pletely different sets of muscles, as far as I can tell. There’s noth- my fiction writing career would take off a few months later, ing wrong with being concise in one’s prose; being economical when I sold my first novel, Out of the Pocket, to Dutton Juvenile. with words is a terrific lesson. But none of the lessons in creativ- That meant I needed to delve deeply into a revision on that ity I had learned at ASU were helped along by eight-plus hours manuscript—written during the time I had been pursuing my a day of journalism immersion. MFA at Arizona State—while working as a fulltime journalist. Unrelated to my work schedule, the revision process was com- The premise about the impact of my work on my fiction writ- pletely daunting. My editor had asked me to remove the death

35 ALUMNI UPDATE

of the protagonist’s father from my novel. Nothing I learned at When I sold the second novel I wrote while attending ASU ASU could have prepared me for such delicate surgery. Remov- to the same publishing house, however, confronted with the re- ing a plot line involves adjusting just about every word of the ality of doing it again, I had to face the fact that it was too much novel. There were moments when I felt that I could cheat and for me. Lots of folks are better. There are people who can raise that the novel would survive and still make sense if I left certain a family and work in a steel mill and still find time to write the scenes alone, but really it needed a total revision. It isn’t possible great American novel while the rest of the world is asleep. I am to stay true to your protagonist’s voice when something as sig- just not that person—which is why my partner and I decided to nificant as the death of a parent must be removed. take the chance and let me “just write” for awhile. I tried to set a schedule the way I had at Arizona State, de- I got my second contract in July and quit my job at the end voting three hours to writing every morning no matter what. of September, making me perhaps the only person in America But when you work until 3:00 a.m. and don’t get to bed until to quit his job the same week as the arrival of the worst financial 4:00 or 4:30 five days a week, and when your body clock has crisis since the Great Depression. adjusted so that you are most awake and engaged in your stress- Is it possible that we will come to regret this decision? Abso- ful work at 1:00 and 2:00 a.m., it’s extremely hard to make any lutely. But for right now, as a writer, it’s a tremendous plus. By kind of schedule and stick to it. focusing entirely on fiction writing (and publicity, of course— I slogged through as best I could, occasionally taking a cou- my first book isn’t going to publicize itself), I’ve once again ple of days off to have a four-day writing weekend. Mostly, I found the voice I had honed in graduate school. My writing fretted that the quality of my writing had dropped precipitously. feels like it’s getting back to where it was when I was immersed I was now more cognizant of the difference between “as” and in the craft, and my belief is that I couldn’t get here when I was “and” (Barry Bonds didn’t hit two home runs as the Giants beat working my ass off and writing my ass off at the same time. I the Dodgers, unless he hit them at the exact moment they won) just don’t have the skill. than I was of remembering that every character that comes into So here’s my advice to all the other writers out there won- my story has someplace else to be. dering how to work and write fiction: don’t. Marry rich. Rob I’m not sure how I got through it, and I definitely don’t know a bank. Live in a commune where your responsibilities involve how I came out of the process with a novel—about a gay football little more than kneading dough and floor sweeping. And I player—that I felt good about. Certainly what I remember most promise you, when you are in a jail cell or the figurative jail of a about the struggle of writing while holding down a fulltime job bad marriage or freaky commune, your writing will prosper! was the lack of sleep and serenity. But the fact is I got it done.

OUT OF THE POCKET BY BILL KONIGSBERG

“Out of the Pocket tells the truth. Bill Konigsberg has created a funny, compelling, haunt- ing story about growing up different, and in the spotlight. This book is for anyone who cares about understanding bigotry.” -Chris Crutcher, author of Whale Talk and King of the Mild Frontier

What if the star of the high school football team was gay? In Out of the Pocket, 17-year- old Bobby Framingham of Orange County, Calif., is struggling with a secret. One of the most talented players in the state, Bobby knows he’s different than his teammates. But he so much doesn’t want to be. Can he be one of the boys while still being honest about who he is? And how will the girl who thinks she’s dating him take to the news? Out of the Pocket is available from Dutton Juvenile. It can be purchased at independent bookstores across the country, many Barnes & Noble locations, and Amazon.com.

36 NEWS MFA FACULTY NEWS

JAY BOYER’s FOR SOME the Afterword to The Time Machine by H.G. Wells, 2008, Phoe- REASON COMMA SHE nix Pick, and editor of American Literature from the Colonies to the LAUGHED will be pub- Civil War, 2008, anthology, Kendall/Hunt Publishing. lished, and a number of his shorter plays have been pro- MELISSA PRITCHARD appeared on duced since the end of the Fanzine’s TALKSHOW with Jaime last school year. ALEX AND Clark in September, 2008. Other ANNE, which was selected guests included Kevin Brockmeier, for The Best Ten-Minute Plays Sloane Crosley, Sophie Gee and Sa- 2009, ed. Lawrence Harbison, mantha Hunt. Melissa received a Smith & Kraus (with a publication date of Winter, 2009-10) 2008 Hawthornden International premiered Off-Off Broadway this past October/November at Writer’s Fellowship and stayed at Bowery Poetry Club as part of its Ten-Minute Play Series, and Hawthornden Castle, Scotland in was produced as well at Studio Theatre, Wellington, Florida, May and June, 2008. The Phoenix October/November, 2008; FALLING IN LOVE AGAIN was Children’s Hospital outreach is still mounted Off-Off-Broadway at the Producers Club in July; continuing to develop, and in No- SUICIDE GAL, WON’T YOU COME OUT TONIGHT, vember, 2008, Melissa was invited to Cuenca, Ecuador with COME OUT TONIGHT was mounted as a staged read- Women For World Health, a medical mission providing recon- ing by Gaia Studio as Hoboken Historical Museum Theatre, structive surgeries for fifty Quechua children from the Andes Hoboken, New Jersey, July, 2008 had a staged reading Off-Off- mountains. She wrote a series of profiles on the children for Broadway by Theatre/Dance Workshop, INC, in December, the Orange Country Register, Orange County’s largest circu- 2008; that will pair with an earlier play of his, WOLLICOTT’S lation newspaper. Melissa will go to Calcutta and Delhi, India TRAVELING RABBIT’S FOOT MINSTRELS, then the two in January to teach writing workshops for Kalam and STOP. plays will be produced on the same bill Off-Off-Broadway by She will team-teach with artist/papermaker Drew Matott and Theatre/Dance Workshop, INC in the Summer, 2009. AWK- mentor Melissa Walker, an ASU PHd student in music who is WARD PAUSES (an older play but nevertheless Jay’s favorite) developing a song cycle based on poetry written by survivors of is getting a little dramatic reading with some very good actors trafficking, to raise awareness of the global epidemic of human at Moving Arts (one of only two bilingual theatrical companies trafficking. In January, Melissa will be an ‘embedded reporter’ in Paris, and the other does things like MY FAIR LADY largely in Kabul, Afghanistan working on a story about humanitarian for tourists starved for their own tongue) in December, 2008. projects in rural provinces provided by women in the US Air Jay says, “It’s the equivalent of something Off-Off [and maybe Force, working with Afghan women and their children. we need to add an “Off”] Broadway were this being done in the States, but it’s not, it’s being done in Paris, France, and that PETER TURCHI gave a talk in October entitled “Darkness, Mys- makes it special for me.” tery, Intimacy and Distance: Artistic Obsession and the Work of Charles Ritchie” at North Carolina State University’s Gregg PAUL COOK’s publications include Karma Kommandos, 2008, Museum of Art and Design; and he has an essay, “One Man’s novel, Arc Manor Publishers; The Engines of Dawn, 2008, novel, Risk,” forthcoming in Rescuing Fire from the Rain: Writings on reissue, Phoenix; Fortress on the Sun, 2008, novel, reissue, Phoe- Fear, Risk and Hope Dedicated to the People of Darfur, published by nix. He is also the editor for The Phoenix Pick Anthology of Classic Rutgers University Press. The book’s proceeds will benefit the Science Fiction Stories, 2008, anthology, Phoenix Pick, author of Save Darfur Coalition.

37 NEWS

ALUMNI LINER NOTES

MEGHAN BRINSON (Poetry 2008) has two poems forth- canisado, Moondance, The Caribbean Writer and quiet Shorts. coming in Cider Press Review: “Museum,” and “Love Erica lives in Arizona with her two children and is a poet- Poem,” in volume 10. ry mentor with PEN Prison Writing Mentorship Program and volunteer copywriter for VALUEusa.org. KATIE CORTESE (Fiction, 2006) has started her Ph.D. in Fiction at Florida State University and her story “Rap- MARGOT MCDONNELL’s (Fiction, 1988) young adult mys- ture” will come out in the second issue of The Amerpersand tery thriller Torn to Pieces, published September, 2008, has Review (http://www.ampersandreview.com/). been nominated for an ALA Quick Pick for Reluctant Readers award. CAROLINE BERRY KLOCKSIEM (Poetry, 2004) recently received a fellowship in poetry from the Massachusetts OLIVER DE LA PAZ Cultural Council. (Poetry, 1998) re- cently completed LUKE KRUEGER (Playwrit- his third manuscript, ing, 2003) had his Chica- tentatively titled go debut with a new play, Grace Equations. He “The Sublime Abortion of has new poems pub- Man,” an absurdist comedy, lished or forthcom- in which a presidential can- ing in The Virginia didate, fast-tracked for the Quarterly Review, The White House, casually ad- Chatahoochee Review, mits he is an atheist. Shows Tin House, and in Language for a New Century: Contempo- were packed. The show was rary Poetry from the Middle East, Asia, and Beyond, published produced by Simple Theatre by Norton. Oliver is also a new dad to Lucas Nicanor de and performed at Gorilla la Paz. Tango Theatre in Chica- go’s Wicker Park area. Also, DINH VONG (Fiction, 2008) will have two short stories “Exit, Cute Ed”, a ten-min- published in two different anthologies. “Tandem” in Sto- ute play was the sole play published in the inaugural edi- len Stories, published by Forest Publications. And “Heavy- tion of The Alchemy Review. Within the last year, two plays weight” in Cold Shoulders, Evil Eyes, published by Univer- were produced by Toy Boat Productions in Portland, OR: sal Table. “The Kicker” and “Holiday Money Shot.” MAXIMILIAN WERNER (Fiction, 1997) placed essays in A first collection of poetry by ERICA MARIA LITZ (Po- Sporting Classics, Fly Rod and Reel, and North American Re- etry, 2002), Lightning Forest, Lava Root will be published view. His essay “Anglers’ Ball” placed 2nd in the 2008 in the coming year by Plain View Press. Her poems have Robert Traver Fly Fishing Writing Award. His book Black appeared in or are forthcoming this year in the journals: River Dreams won the 2008 Utah Arts Council’s Original The Superstition Review, Brink Magazine, Oranges & Sardines Writing Competition for Nonfiction: Book and will be (http://www.poetsandartists.com), Literary Mama, Ameri- published next fall by Barclay Creek Press.

38 SUPPORT THE LITERARY ARTS IN YOUR LOCAL COMMUNITY The Piper Center is committed to supporting both a to the talented students of Arizona State University’s MFA vibrant and diverse literary community in the Phoenix Program in Creative Writing. Through our giving program, metropolitan area as well as fostering the work of the you can ensure your financial support is earmarked to next generation of literary leaders by providing funding directly benefit our students or our community.

PATRON OF THE ARTS | $3,400 each year for 3 years ($10,500 cumulative donation) / $284 per month This three-year gift creates a merit-based scholarship for a current student writer in the MFA program. Patrons are invited to join the recipient for lunch with the Director of the Piper Center for Creative Writing. Includes a three-year Membership, a DVD of a past guest author’s reading, and all Champion level benefits. Fair market value: $550.

CHAMPION OF THE ARTS | $1,000 cumulative donation per year / $84 per month Champions of the Arts sponsor our annual writers conference. Benefits include a complimentary general admission to the next writers conference and a free registration for a Piper Writer’s Studio Workshop course, a book signed by a visiting author, plus all benefits received by Arts Advocates. Fair market value: $450.

ARTS ADVOCATE | $500 cumulative donation per year / $42 per month Arts Advocates help support our community enrichment programs like the Distinguished Visiting Writers Series and the Piper Online Book Club. Benefits include an invitation to an exclusive Literary Salon event with a visiting author and a free autographed book from our collection, plus Supporting Subscriber benefits. Fair market value: $50.

SUPPORTING SUBSCRIBER | $100 cumulative donation per year / $9 per month Supporting Subscribers provide funding directly to Piper Center publication initiatives like Hayden’s Ferry Review. Includes a one-year Membership and a one-year subscription to Hayden’s Ferry Review. Fair market value: $20.

MEMBER | $50 non-charitable purchase Members receive a free back issue of Hayden’s Ferry Review, a subscription to Marginalia, 10% off the Desert Nights, Rising Stars Writers Conference, 10% off Piper Writer’s Studio Workshops, and 10% off purchases at Changing Hands Bookstore.

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UPCOMING EVENTS 2009 DESERT NIGHTS, RISING STARS CONFERENCE February 18– 21, 2009, ASU Tempe Campus

CONFERENCE READINGS

Wednesday, February 18 Friday, February 20 NANCY MAIRS, Nonfiction MEREDITH HALL, Nonfiction NATASHA TRETHEWAY, Poetry Thursday, February 19 PERCIVAL EVERETT, Fiction Saturday, February 21 MARY RUEFLE, Poetry ALICE SEBOLD, Fiction

All conference readings begin at 7:30 pm in Old Main’s Carson Ballroom. Tickets can be purchased for $10. See our website for complete details and other conference information.