My New Career

Is it awful that I have been writing, but not posting to our awesome blog? Is it terrible that I hate the word "awesome" but use it anyway? I'm sure I have your forgiveness for both.

My latest misguided plan is to become a freelance writer. I'm not sure I have enough of a business mindset, but I do own a book entitled "Getting Started as a Freelance Writer." Let's face it: I'm 99% of the way there.

Branching out

Hey Tom, how do I invite another person to join the blog? I can't figure it out.
By the way, I haven't seen anyone post any new writing or comments on the docs in a very long time (not that I have either, but) I'm anxiously awaiting more stuff from y'all.
I haven't really been writing, except in journal form, but I've been reading a lot, like Kyra. I'm a little ADD right now and can't stick to one book, so I'm in the middle of The Tin Drum by Gunter Grass, Death in the Andes by Llosa, Frommer's Guide to South America, and something called "How Proust Can Change Your Life."
I also go in and read slush at River Styx lit journal every week, so I get to read about a million pieces by unknown (at least to me) writers. Sometimes reading the slush pile makes me feel good about my own work, and sometimes it's dismal thinking that I'm just one of the middling masses. Sometimes reading at River Styx makes me sick to my stomach-- like the other week when one of the editors, upon hearing of my upcoming trip to South America, decided to read aloud a long, detailed poem about the gruesome life cycle of a parasite in the human body and its emergence through the skin as a teeming, bloody boil. (My dreams have been tainted, now so have yours.)
Speaking of travel and disease, I've got to head out to my immunization appointment now-- no Hep A, B, typhoid, yellow fever or rabies for me! Hopefully my writing arm isn't too sore...

So there was this one time...

When I opened the mail on a Friday night, and saw an acceptance letter from the New School.

Then I realized it wasn't for me, but rather addressed to a Mrs. Ayala.

I became sad.


And angry.


And a nasty beeyotch to everyone around me.


And then...

I got a phone call.

From a Mrs. Ayala.

She lives in Brooklyn.

She was nice.


She told me she had something for me. Something big.


I thought it was a foot. A huge, stinking foot to stomp all over my already dismembered heart (I don't mean to potentially plagiarize, should that be the title of a preexisting emo band's first hit) .

But it wasn't that messy.


She too, had a letter.

I puked a little.




Then a voice said, "It is my pleasure to notify you of your admission to The New School's Master of Fine Arts in Creative Writing beginning in the Fall 2008 Semester. You have been selected for the concentration in Non-Fiction."

I might have told her I loved her.

I hope her husband didn't hear me.


THE END.
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True story! I guess it pays to be persistent when you're in the collegiate Purgatory of Waitlists.

So NYC, here I come!!!!!!!!

...oh, hey everyone ... I'm still here....

hi. sorry.

I did the whole "gee-i've-been-in-new-york-for-a-few-job-interviews-i-havent-checked-the-blog-or-written-anything-but-one-poem-when-I-was-drunk (don't ask)-so-now-I-feel-guilty-I'll-just-avoid-it" thing ... so now I've decided to own up and come back to the blog, figuring that it's the baby step to get back on the horse (or wagon or whatever this thing is). I've been reading at least, telling myself that I'm storing up creative resources - I highly recomend "The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao" by Junot Diaz.

Tom - good work with the writing. I'm impressed ... and jealous of your productivity, since all i've been doing when i take a break from staring vacantly at monster.com, I'm drinking diet coke and watching reruns of old sitcoms. Good luck!

Stacy - i looked at your website, your paintings are amazing. Don't worry about the whole writer-artist conundrum - talent is talent, and you'll figure out what is uniquely true for you.

so - this is my first baby step. i'm glad to be back

Excel Poems

Good news, Bloggers: I've been writing (just not on here). I think as a way of avoiding fiction, I have been writing poems, which is strange as I would much rather be writing fiction. I've also been doing weird things like writing poems in Excel and in the shower.

Now, I'll admit 65% of what I say is made up or exaggerated for the sake of humor. But when I say I don't really get poems, I am speaking from squarely within the other 34% (1% of what I say is neither true nor false). I've decided that just because I can't understand poems, even ones written by me, doesn't mean I shouldn't write them. Also, since I can't tell whether my poems are any good, I've decided to start sending them to people and saying "Hey, you wanna publish this?" So I bought a copy of P&W and highlighted (though I prefer "highlit," I don't think it's correct) places to send them.

I'm such an accomplished poet. (Please don't tell anyone that this secretly isn't true.)

And this is why I haven't been as productive in the literary world...

Ok, so it's offically done. I think.


Many people (I won't name names mainly because I don't really know who these people are, but critics from both the literary and visual world drill this idea into my head) think that's it's not possible to be a writer and an artist.


I hope they are all massively incorrect in their assumptions that the human mind is so narrow.

If they are correct, then I pray to the creative gods that I at least have something going in one of the worlds (::begin incoherent chanting and wild limb-flailing::)...


www.staceysmall.com

This has been a massive pain in the behind to create. However, I learned some html.

I also learned that I don't ever want to speak in technical code again.

Spanish is cool, but no more html. Madre de dios!