Just got some good news: I’ve been selected to have my short stories read as part of the New Short Fiction Series up in L.A.
It’s a pretty sweet set-up. Actors read your stories so you don’t have to. I like that.
It won’t be happening until 2010 (no specific date yet). But if you live in Southern California and know me (or don’t know me), mark your calendars for… 2010.
Ah, the serial comma—nothing gets a group of editors, copy editors and writers more riled up than a good ol’ “discussion” on whether or not to use it. (This happened recently at work.)
You’ve got your pro serial-comma camp, and you’ve got your anti-serial-comma camp; here’s an impassioned pro argument.
Interesting to note that David Foster Wallace, who was on the editorial board of the Oxford English Dictionary, was firmly pro serial comma. Here’s a quote from the editor who worked with him on his Roger Federer article for the New York Times:
“He is the only writer ever to convince (or even try to convince) the famously stubborn Times copy desk that we should temporarily ignore the paper’s famous serial-comma rule—the paper doesn’t use them; this really drove David nuts. His argument was that ’10 percent of the cases become howlers without it’ and offered the following example: ‘The elephant fell on the Snodgrass twins, Rodney and Pete.’ Remove the comma and only two people are crushed by the elephant, whereas the writer might have intended the total to be four. Why complicate comprehension for the sake of a rule? When I told him I thought we were stuck—the institution is bigger than the individual, even this individual—he said he was willing to take up the matter with the copy tsar himself and added, ‘Just say the author’s an eccentric prima donna.’ Then he laughed.”
My contributor copy of Slice Magazine, featuring my story “My Status,” came in the mail today.
It sure is purty. Looks- and size-wise it’s similar to The Believer. Lots of good stuff that I’ll hopefully be digging into soon.
Did pleasantly note, though, that the Paul Auster interview appears right before my story. Speaking of which, here’s the first paragraph of “My Status”:
“Pictures don’t lie. And there I am, in a photo that’s now prominently displayed on the fridge, among the magnets and coupons and crazed crayon drawings of my eight-year-old son. It took a while to recognize myself. Then it was like: Oh shit, that’s me. Bloated, drunk, ugly, looking like a man who’s made an all-star career of letting people down, including himself. Damn. Is that really me? Are my eyes really that close together, that guilty? And how long has the photo been up? I don’t live here anymore, so maybe it’s been a while and I just haven’t noticed it until now, here to pick up my son. Every other Saturday is the agreed upon arrangement. That’s when I’m still a dad.”
The story also features Trader Joe’s, tofu, a dognapping, regret, redemption (maybe), the 605 freeway and a karate instructor named Sensei Jerry.
Fellow contributors include Alex Littlefield, Sari Wilson, Caroline Woods, Maggie Veness, Matt Cook, Martha Clarkson, Alexi Zentner, Eric Vale, Scott Bowman, Sharon Harrigan, Knox Dupree, Karen Regen-Tuero, Melinda Clark, Monica Anzalone, Alison Kim, Yoon Sunwoo, Seung Ryoul Lee, Jennifer Yoon, Nikki Van Noy, Jessica Gomez, Anthony Carelli, Ben Gantcher, Elizabeth Schmidt, Tom Haushalter, Maria Gagliano, Ian McConnel and Celia Blue Johnson.
And, as usual, the editors have lined up some amazing interviews: the aforementiond Mr. Auster, plus Lisa See, Ed White, Aleskandar Hemon and Haven Kimmel.
If you’re interested in purchasing the issue directly from Slice, you can do that here.
Or look for a bookstore near you that carries Slice.
I’m proud to report that Henry is bypassing typical children’s book fare like Goodnight Moon and The Very Hungry Caterpillar and going right to the hard stuff.
Here he is devouring Richard Yates’ Eleven Kinds of Loneliness.
Let the depression and drinking begin!
UPDATE: Henry’s sister Celia seems to have a passion for Borges’ Collected Fictions. Man, what are we doing to these kids?
