Jeffrey Ricker's Blog, page 36

Don’t Dream It’s Over, or “My! My! Time Flies!”

I logged into my UBC student account this past weekend to find that my final grades for the year have been posted. (All A-plusses, I’m happy to report.) Along with that was a letter confirming that I’d completed all of the requirements for finishing my degree, which I’d get later this month.

In other words, stick a fork in me. I’m done.

Somehow, of course, I still have a boatload of work to do. For starters, I’m working my way through the pile of short stories I’ve written over the past two years and inputting all of my colleagues’ comments into my electronic files. Somehow, I can’t imagine putting all this paper in my luggage and hauling it back to St. Louis. Then there are a few more revisions to do on the thesis before I circulate it.

And then there’s that whole finding-a-job thing.

I’ve been going through all of the books on my shelves—the ones I brought with me, the ones I’ve bought in my time here, the ones that have otherwise wound up in my possession. Funny how this seems to happen wherever I go. Somehow, I’m going to get everything down to what fits in two suitcases. Otherwise, it’s being given away. (Vancouver friends, I might have some books you’d be interested in.)

How can it already have been two years?

Ignore bookstores and they’ll go away

I’m not surprised that the owner of Giovanni’s Books, Ed Hermance, sounds pretty disillusioned in this article reporting that the United States’ oldest LGBT bookstore is closing next month. If I’d been in business for almost four decades, I’d be down too.

When was the last time you went into a bookstore? Would you be disappointed if the next time you went, they had a going-out-of-business sign in the window?

A lot of my friends have asked me where to buy my latest book (that would be The Unwanted, and you can find a list of links right here—and that ends today’s blatant play for self-promotion!) and then they ask, “Where is the best place for me to buy it for you?” As in “Where do you, the author, get the most return on my investment in the book?”

This, of course, makes me love my friends that much more. And here’s what I tell them: do you have a local bookstore? Buy it there. Is there not one close by? Check Indiebound and see if there’s one you can order it from. (I usually recommend Left Bank Books in St. Louis because I have an outsize love for them, and Kris Kleindienst and company have been kind and supportive of my work. Also, Spike the store cat.) Here in Vancouver I recommend places like Pulpfiction Books or Kidsbooks. (Bonus: at Pulpfiction if you order a new novel that they don’t have in stock, they can often get it for you at up to 30% off.) I love those stores and want them to be sustained. It’s where I like to shop for books.

I also tell them that they can buy them directly from my publisher. That’s where I get the most bang for their buck (which sounded fine in my head but on reflection sounds a bit dirty).

In the end, though, I don’t think there really is a wrong place to buy a book. Heck, you don’t even have to buy it, and I’m not just talking about my own here either. Go to the library! These places are awesome! All the books! And free!

As the Doctor would say, books! Best weapons in the universe.

Is Mercury in retrograde?

Why I’ll never have visible abs.

Because that would explain why I’m writing this post on my tablet using a Bluetooth keyboard instead of on my laptop the way nature clearly intended. (The keyboard also has a tendency to ignore every third time I try to use the spacebar, so if I come off as more illiterate than usual, blame that.)

So, while I’m typing away on this and waiting for my laptop’s operating system to update, I’m sure you’re wondering, “What has Jeff been doing in the eighteen days since he rang the bell?” I can answer that in one word: poutine.

No, that is not some unnatural sex act. (Although I still can’t keep myself from snickering every time I say it.) I’ve been having poutine at least once a week, maybe more, in the past month or so because this is a phenomenon sadly unknown back in St. Louis. When I leave in a month, my ready access to poutine will be cut off.

A moment of silence for that, please.

Right, I know that most of my blog’s visitors are either from Canada or from Missouri, and I’m not telling Canadians anything they don’t already know. But, you folks in the Show-Me state, you do not know what you’re missing.

Poutine is French for “mess.” (Yes, it’s another language, Missourians. I know it’s a struggle for some to keep a firm grasp on their mother tongue and—well, hang on there a sec, using the word “grasp” and the phrase “mother tongue” in the same sentence is just wrong.

Wait, where was I? Right, French for “mess.” What that word doesn’t tell you is that it’s a fantastically amazing mess whose existence might be proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy.

Wait, I think Ben Franklin said the same thing about beer. Anyway. Poutine is made from french fries, a generous helping of cheese curds, all of it smothered in brown gravy. I don’t know if my friend Shark Fu has ever had poutine, but her well-known love of smothered anything would make this a no-brainer. Anyway, you would think that “brown gravy” would instantly equal “not vegetarian,” right?

Oh, how wrong you would be.

While most places make their gravy with drippings or whatever you carnivores use (I would say I can hear your arteries clogging from over here, but I’m the one with high cholesterol and an unnatural love for cheese, so I’m not about to cast stones). However, there is an equally sizable selection of places that make their poutine with miso or mushroom gravy, or at least offer the option. Yay for me!

The keys to good poutine are really crunchy fries (because that gravy is going to make them soggy really fast otherwise), fresh curds (listen for the squeak, at least until they start to melt, and then they’re still good), and of course a good gravy. Not too bland, but not too salty.

Here’s where I’ve gone in the past month or so, with help from my friends Ruth (who keeps yelling “No!” when I mention that I’m leaving in a month) and Nicole (who thinks I might be the only person who eats more poutine than she does).

1. Belgian Fries, 1885 Commercial Drive.

This, I think, was the first place where I had poutine once I got to Vancouver. I don’t remember why or how I was made aware of the dish, but I was walking down Commercial and saw the sign and thought, “Ooh, fries. I’m suddenly hungry.” I was probably thinking I’d get cheese fries or a side of mayo, but then poutine must have caught my eye. And thank heavens for that.

You never forget your first poutine, but it’s been so long since I’ve been back and I’ve gone to so many other places that I’ve forgotten most of the character of that poutine. I think I’ll have to go back and try it again.

2. La Belle Patate, 1215 Davie St.

Okay, the first thing that’s surprising about this place is that it’s smack dab in the middle of the gaybourhood. How can a place that specializes in serving up carbs and fat make a go of it in the hotbed of body dysmorphia?  However they do it, I’m glad they do, although I think I was the only member of the clan of Dorothy in there when I went.

This was the first place that I had curds that squeaked (which sounds like a medical condition: “Side effects include headaches, dry mouth, and squeaky curds. Ask your doctor or pharmacist”). Kind of funny, but also darn good. So were the fries’ flavour, which was savoury and well-seasoned. They might have competed a bit too much with the gravy, which was really nice.

3. Smoke’s Poutinerie, 942 Granville St.

Poutine is a big enough thing in Canada that they actually have a chain of places that specializes in nothing but poutine. You can get it with beef, pulled pork, other dead animal parts that I wasn’t on a first-name basis with. You can also get vegetarian options that include nacho poutine, served with jalapenos and gaucamole. I got the regular poutine, but I also got it “Wow”‘d for $3 extra. Think supersize, because good god, that thing was huge. I didn’t think I’d be able to finish it, but I’d also run 17K that day, so I guess I worked up an appetite.

4. Fritz European Fry House, 718 Davie St.

I know what you’re thinking, two poutine places on the same street within five blocks of each other? Does Vancouver have a poutine problem?

Yes, they do have a problem. A tasty, tasty problem.

I think this might have been my favourite so far of all the places I’ve gone. The fries were phenomenally crispy and golden and just tasted freshly made. The gravy was delicious without being overpoweringly salty, and the fries held up well under it. I’m not sure if the curds squeaked, but that was because they were already melting. They were layered in between the fries—layer of fries, layer of curds, gravy, lather, rinse, repeat—which meant that there were curds and fries all the way to the bottom. So good. So very, very good.

The place is open late and is apparently quite popular with the 2am drunk crowd. I can see why.

5. The Burger Bar, Student Union Building, UBC

I’m almost embarrassed to admit it, but yes, I go to this place way too often. Seeing as I live on campus and the SUB is about a seven-minute walk away, it’s kind of my default “I’m hungry/I need comfort food/it’s raining/it’s Thursday” place. This is the only place I’ve seen where you can get smoked salmon on your poutine, which I’ve not had but my friend Jade has and says it’s not bad. I’ve had their curry poutine, which wasn’t all that spectacular; the curry gravy wasn’t spicy enough for my taste.

What I can recommend unreservedly is the waffle fry poutine. It’s pretty much what you’d expect: curds, gravy (kind of on the salty side, but I like salty), and crunchy, seasoned waffle fries. Those things don’t get soggy for anything, but they do hold heat really efficiently, and I’ve burned my mouth more than once. Caveat eater.

Wait, I just remembered something. An honourable mention goes to the first place I had poutine, a restaurant/bar on Main Street called Habit. Their gravy was fantastic, but they only getan honourable mention because they closed when I wasn’t paying attention, darn it.

Ring My Bell

Click to view slideshow.

(Yes, a post that has nothing to do with The Unwanted. I know, shocking.)

Last week was a hectic one. On Thursday I turned in my thesis for my creative writing graduate degree. Bonus: I had company! My friends Charles and Beth were also turning in theirs. So did my friend Rebecca, who’s not pictured here (how did that happen? I have no idea), but she’s waiting to ring the bell when her parents come for graduation.

I do have one other script to read and give feedback on for a class that had its last meeting last Thursday, but other than that… I’m done. And it’s kind of weird. Also, a tiny bit panic-inducing. I’ve known all along that once this was over, I would have to find a job.

Well, here we are.

I have another month or so here in Vancouver, and after that, it’s back to St. Louis. I went for a long, meandering bike ride to Stanley Park yesterday, and the day before I began my search for the best poutine in town. (Hence the need for the bike ride.) In between looking for gainful employment and stressing about The Unwanted and thinking about my next project, I’m going to make the most of my time here, because it has a sell-by date.

What’s #MyWritingProcess? I’m glad you asked….

These things are a little like internet chain letters, aren’t they? I’m a sucker for reading about other writers’ processes, though, so when Juliann Rich asked if I’d like to participate, I said yes pretty much right away. Juliann’s debut novel, Caught in the Crossfire, is available for pre-order now. I’m really looking forward to reading it. You can read about her writing process here.

Right, on with the questions!

1) What am I working on?

At the moment, my third cup of coffee of the day. I’m also finishing up edits on my thesis (have I mentioned I’m in grad school? Well, I’m in grad school), which is a speculative fiction novel. Once it’s turned in, I’ll have a few more edits to do (I’ve gotten some fantastic feedback from my faculty readers), and then it’ll be time to find an agent.

In the meantime, I’m also working on revising several short stories, sending them out, working on a sequel to The Unwanted, a novel about the private investigator in “Murder on the Midway,” which was in Men of the Mean Streets, as well as a middle-grade science fiction novel I started last year and really want to get back to. One thing at a time, though.

2) How does my work differ from others of its genre?

Um, it has my name on it? I know that’s not the answer we’re looking for here, but it’s the first thing that came to mind.

I think that the thing that distinguishes my work is the fact that it usually straddles two or more genres at the same time. One of my colleagues in my fiction workshop this year called me a genre chameleon. That’s kind of accurate, I think. I try to respect the rules of a genre while at the same time giving them a turn that keeps it interesting to me. I also look for an emotional center to revolve around.

3) Why do I write what I do?

Because the voices tell me to. Seriously, though, I often have no idea. It’s what comes to mind and what interests me. The synapses fire in a new, unusual pattern and an idea forms.

4) How does my writing process work?

In fits and starts, usually. I don’t have a set process and I try not to get too rigid with it anyway. I write on a computer or in a notebook, or sometimes on a typewriter.

So, who’s up next?

Well, that would be:

’Nathan Burgoine, who is basically my writing twin, since we more or less got started at the same time and have been in a number of anthologies together since then. He’s Willow to my Buffy or Buffy to my Willow, I can’t be sure which. (If I’m Willow, it’s the Willow during her dark time.) His debut novel, Light, is a finalist for a Lambda Literary Award. So he’s basically awesome.

Jess Faraday is no stranger to award nominations either. Her novel The Affair of the Porcelain Dog was a finalist for a Lambda Literary Award, and the follow-up, Turnbull House, is out now. Check it out.

Greg Herren is the award-winning author of the Chanse MacLeod and Scotty Bradley mystery series, as well as the YA novels Lake Thirteen, Sara, Sleeping Angel, and others. He’s also my editor and I have so much to thank him for it’s ridiculous.

Check them out next week! (And thanks, Juliann, for getting me in on this.)

Seen in the wild!

I owe some thanks to Gavin Atlas, who was in St. Louis this past weekend and sent me this snapshot of The Unwanted at my favorite bookstore, Left Bank Books. And it’s facing out, no less!

On top of that, if you go over to Chelsea Station magazine, you’ll find a review of The Unwanted by Keith Glaeske. You’ll also find one over at Out in Print.

Don’t forget there’s a giveaway going on over at Goodreads. I’ll be giving away five copies of the book (U.S. and Canadian addresses only—sorry, but international postage is expensive). You’ve got until April 16 to enter!

Missing deadlines like Douglas Adams

You know what I mean. That great quote by Mr. Hitchhikers Guide: “I love deadlines. I like the whooshing sound they make as they fly by.” That happened to me this week. I was working on not one but two stories to submit for contests with March 31 deadlines, and as I sat down to submit one of them on Monday night, I discovered I’d fallen victim to the East Coast bias. Here on the West Coast at 9pm it was still March 31, but over there on the other side, it was already April 1. No foolin’.

Which sucks, but it gives me time to work on the stories a bit more.

One deadline I didn’t miss though was the deadline to apply for the Lambda Literary Foundation 2014 Writers Retreat. My friend Leah Horlick was a participant in 2012 and said it was fantastic, and Lucy Jane Bledsoe is the instructor for the fiction portion of the retreat. So, fingers crossed.

Tonight is the reading at Green College with Nancy Lee and Laisha Rosnau. I just finished Nancy’s novel The Age and am reading Laisha’s book of poetry, Pluck. They’re both pretty amazing. If you’re in Vancouver, you should really come to this. You should also stick around for the reading by the fireside at 8pm, which will include me along with colleagues Nicole Boyce, Sarah Higgins, and Sugar le Fae. Should be fun.

Speaking of fun, here’s a picture, courtesy of my friend Ruth Daniell, from last weekend’s reading at the UBC Bookstore. In case I hadn’t mentioned it, I’ve cut my hair, which means I no longer look like my author photo…..

UBC Bookstore Reading March 29

Hey, Vancouverites! If you’re free on Saturday, March 29, come out to the UBC bookstore at the Vancouver campus to hear me read. It’s part of the bookstore’s grand reopening after a big renovation. (Everything, it seems, is under renovation or construction around here. You think UBC stands for “University of British Columbia”? No, it apparently stands for “University of Building Construction.”)

I’ll be reading from 1:40 to 2 p.m., but come out earlier to hear readings by my talented colleagues Ruth Daniell, Rebecca Hales, Francine Cunningham, Charles-Adam Foster-Simard, and Kayla Czaga.The day’s events start at 9:30, and there’ll be free food and giveaways. (And who doesn’t like free?)

Why the arts matter to civilization

“I’m hoping people will look at how they engage with the arts, re-evaluate this notion that gets sold to us that the consumption of a book or a painting or a non-entertainment movie or a play is an elitist activity that you do when important business of your life is completed and you have a little leisure time. That’s just dead wrong.

“Civilization is an agreement people have to behave in certain ways towards each other. It’s not governments and roads and buildings and stock markets. When you engage with works of art you are participating in that conversation. You are judging what is good and what is bad, and what you want and don’t want. It’s really important if we want to have civilization that individuals continue to do this in a thoughtful and reflective way.”

—Steven Galloway

Galloway is the acting chair of the Creative Writing Program at UBC (soon to be my latest alma mater) and discussed this in an interview with the Toronto Star. His novel The Cellist of Sarajevo was chosen by the Toronto Public Library as its One Book for the Keep Toronto Reading festival.

Come Swoon on April 4

Last year I was a reader at Swoon: A Literary Evening of Love, Sex, and Chocolate, held at Cocoa Nymph in Kitsilano. This year, I have the privilege of being co-host with my friend Ruth Daniell. She’s the brains behind the operation; I’m more like Special Guest Star Heather Locklear. (Melrose Place fans will get the reference, though even mentioning it means I’m dating myself.)

And we have quite a list of talent lined up: Garth Martens, whose debut