Christopher Linforth's Blog, page 2

A Sky Green and Fields Blue

I have a new story out at Hawaii Pacific Review. Here’s the opening:

A Sky Green and Fields Blue

At the doorway to the barracks, Shoshana saw snow fall into the darkness. Now and then the searchlights scanning the camp illuminated the flurry of white, reminding her of the soap flakes her mother used to wash her clothes. She lifted the gauze from her wrist and picked at the scabby flesh that had grown over the blue numbers. She was tired of the factory, of the endless repetition, of the soreness and the bruises, the grease under her fingernails, the bread and lard rations that made her vomit, and the latrines smeared with dark, liquid shit. Dafna, a Czech woman from Karlsbad, called her away from the door. Shoshana did not want to hear her words. She was tired of listening to the older women.

Book in at Amazon

Amazon has just restocked my book The Anthem Guide to Short Fiction. Five copies are now available for purchase! The book includes stories–including Mark Twain, Kate Chopin, Rudyard Kipling, James Joyce, and Edith Wharton–useful biographical and critical commentary, and writing activities and exercises.

 

Story in Whiskey Island

One of my stories–a playful reworking of the contributor note form found in literary journals–has been published in the new issue of Whiskey Island. The issue (No. 62) is available to purchase here. The journal also features the fantastic work of work of Alissa Nutting, Nate Pritts, Russ Woods, and many others. Here’s a sample:

Contributors’ Notes

Carol Clemente teaches writing in the Chicago area where she lives with her two Bichon Frises, Dolores and Fu-Fu. She has published poems in The Paris Review, Crazyhorse, and Feminist Studies. She also has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize.

This is Tom Fritz’s first published story. He divides his time between drinking espresso at Blue Bottle in Williamsburg and hatching Internet start-ups at his mom’s ranch house in Queens. She has a cat, Pringle, which he’s not allowed to pet. Though he sometimes secretly feeds her handfuls of gluten-free granola and occasionally tosses her a catnip mouse. He’s not sure what else he’s supposed to say here or which achievements he should note down. Sorry, I’m dropping the third-person shtick. I don’t know why you guys require it. But it’s creeping me out. It’s like this note is an obituary or something. I’m here, you know? Alive. Well, just about. I already admitted I live with my mom. It’s kind of a downer, especially on my love life. It’s been a while since I got laid. I’m twenty-three now, but back in college I was an A-grade bullshitter. On the steps of Alexander Library, I held court, often rapping lyrical speeches on the future of the Internet and handing out flyers that detailed my own social networking ideas, and directed people to visit my website. And, sure, I dated plenty of girls, usually hipster types who wrote poems on napkins and then used the corners to wipe the crust from their eyes. Man, that turned me on. I majored in Communication while my friends specialized in Fine Art or Architecture. Their classes were titled “Seventeenth-Century Nudes” and “Onanistic Spaces: A History of the Architectural Phallus.” Sounds cool now. Back then, I never wrote much—just essays on Marshall McLuhan and the lesbian scenes in Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Even made the Dean’s List one semester. Recently, I’ve been looking for a way out. Maybe an M.F.A. Perhaps from Iowa, or somewhere corn grows like that. When I sent my story to the Tenure Quarterly Review, I thought a literary agent would read it, sign me up, get me a six-figure book deal. I mean that Chad Harbach landed sweet bank. So far, for me, this hasn’t been the case. Here’s the skinny: so my story is a glorified to-do list—a to-fuck really—and six months ago, the editors (Hi Gary! Hi Twyla!) emailed to say “Errands” had been accepted. Champagne-in-a-can followed. I tell you, it’s funny. I remember my ninth-grade English teacher, Mr. Hausman, berate me: “Tom, I’m not convinced you read Hamlet. In fact, I’m not sure you know who Shakespeare is and why he’s so important.” Well, old Hausman was right. I didn’t read Hamlet, but I did study Business Week and Forbes and think about how I could accumulate a Google-level fortune before I graduated college. Even though I went to Rutgers (my safety school), I knew I’d be headhunted by Silicon Valley. Post-college, when that didn’t happen, I fell into a gnarly funk. I hit the streets, zonked on Xanax, and looked for inspiration—something to let me know I should carry on living. Well, one cold morning outside the 42nd Street Library, I thought maybe I should have listened to Hausman and I checked out a North Face backpack’s worth of classic novels: Madame Bovary, The Stranger, Catcher in the Rye, etc. That’s how I ended up writing, and dreaming of literary conquest.

Michael Butler nominates Pringle for a Pushcart.

 

New Story

I have a new story, “The Cowboys of Fukushima,” out this week in a newish online magazine–Swarm.

Here’s an excerpt:

We were told the cows had gone feral, that in the days after the accident they had broken free of the pen and disappeared into the surrounding hills. Government officials were spooked by the rumors of this wild herd, declaring that the cattle posed a radiation risk to the elderly civilians still living in the warehouse on the outskirts of the city. On first meeting Makoto Nishimura, the local representative, the three of us—McAlister, Doolin, and Ketchum—knew the problem was more than some radioactive cattle. We could see he feared the unknown.

Read the rest here.

 

 

New Essay

I have a new essay published in Squalorly today. Here’s a sample:

Scuttling through the undergrowth, examining the waxy green leaves of the rhododendron, seeing if the plants are an alien life-form masquerading as beings-of-this-world, I realize I am no botanist. I carry on, leather notebook in hand, and glare at the people on the asphalt loop. Young couples in matching maroon hoodies and blue jeans faded at the knee drink in the romance of the sweeping water. Fishermen kidding no one in camo, including the walleye and the pickerel frogs, stoop over the shoreline with their hands grasping straight rods. Their fingers fidget, missing the rifles secured in the parking lot. The pond looks deeper than my last visit—its belly swollen from the run-off. Around me the dampness of the melted frost has left a pungent smell in the earth, like discarded chewing tobacco. With a final glance at the water, I write reflection is an illusion and head deeper into the woods.

New Story Published

Today sees publication of one my recent stories, “Take It From Me, Kid, I’m a Clown.” Published by Lunch Ticket (Antioch’s MFA literary magazine), the story is available to read for free on the interwebs.

Here’s the opening:

“Listen kid, I know it’s your birthday and all, that you only turn ten once, and that this is your special day, but, come on, you’re crying over your balloon animal because you wanted a giraffe and you got an Irish Wolfhound, which you say looks retarded, and that I’m retarded; please, give me some respect here—even though I go by Bozo the Clown, I’m no bozo, just part of the franchise—this is my career, my profession…”

Getting the Word Out: Selling Your Books to Libraries

Now thatI’ve finished my first collection of short-stories and am searching for a publisher, it’s interesting to look back and see how the textbook I edited sold. The Anthem Guide to Short Fiction was aimed at advanced high schoolers and undergraduate students. So it’s no surprise that it was used in high schools and colleges–and plenty of sales came that way. Other sales came from people I know and word-of-mouth recommendations. One sales avenue that I did not consider were libraries. Publishers send libraries copies of their catalogues and many sales can occur from this if your book offers them something new. You can also contact librarians yourself, though this generally only works if you have some connection to the area. It’s also important to bear in mind that acquisition librarians use Library Journal, Kirkus Reviews, and Publishers Weekly to help them decide which books to purchase. Being advertised or reviewed here helps the people in charge select your books.

I’ve found there are four main types of libraries: national libraries, college libraries, community college libraries, and town/county libraries. These can be a useful market, and a place where people can read your work for free. For library listings you can check out the American Library Association, Gale’s Directory of Libraries, and the LibDex. (Note: National libraries do not pay for their copies. In many countries, by law, the publisher has to send the library a copy.)

Some of the libraries that own copies of The Anthem Guide to Short Fiction are listed below:

Virginia Tech

Roanoke County Public Library

Northern Virginia Community College

Library of Congress

University of Maryland Libraries: Theodore R. McKeldin Library

Harris County Public Library (Houston, TX)

University of Wyoming: William R. Coe Library

Trinity College Library Dublin

National Library of Scotland

National Library of Wales

Newcastle University

Oxford Bodleian

Durham University

The British Library

Zentralbibliothek Zürich

Hutt City Libraries (New Zealand)

Queensland University of Tech Kelvin Grove

University of Zululand

Ten Rules For Writing

Last fall in my fiction class we looked over the rules of several famous and successful writers in this Guardian article and came up with our own list of rules. Mine is below:

Write for one hour a day. Minimum.
Try not to make the story predictable. Surprise yourself.
Create an ending where people say WTF!
Write about something you know nothing.
Read the books friends suggest. Don’t just say you will.
Embody the dialogue. Make it authentic. Make it zip.
Write things that are beyond your reach.
Fail as a writer.
Accept this and rewrite the goddamn thing.
Value your classmates and your teacher.

 

Overall, I stuck to these rules quite rigorously and was able to write some strange and powerful fiction–different from my usual fare. During the semester we were not able to tell anybody our rules or mention that we had a covenant with the rest of the class. This, in hindsight, added a layers of secrecy and mystery to the proceedings, and, in some way, drew the class closer together.

So, now, I’m asking: what are your ten rules?

Ten Best Women Short Story Writers

Following on from a previous post, I thought I’d list some remarkable short story writers alive today. I’m using the following criteria: 1) North American (that is, American or Canadian) 2) Alive 3) A woman 4) Known in some capacity as a short story writer. I’ve noticed in my reading habits I tend toward women writers anyway and would count the ten plus below as masters of the genre.

Top Ten

1. Alice Munro.

2. Antonya Nelson.

3. Andrea Barrett.

4. Ann Beattie.

5. Joyce Carol Oates.

6. Edith Pearlman.

7. Annie Proulx.

8. Lorrie Moore.

9. Mary Gaitskill.

10. Jhumpa Lahiri.

Others of note: Edwidge Danticat, Lauren Groff, Karen Russell, Roxane Gay, Jill McCorkle, Mona Simpson, Louise Erdich…

Any others you’d add to the list?

2012 in review

The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2012 annual report for this blog.

Here’s an excerpt:

600 people reached the top of Mt. Everest in 2012. This blog got about 7,500 views in 2012. If every person who reached the top of Mt. Everest viewed this blog, it would have taken 13 years to get that many views.

Click here to see the complete report.