Jessica Knauss's Blog, page 29

Brag Space: I Edited The Kiss

It's not often I feel the need to shout about the wonderful projects I've helped to make even more wonderful since becoming an editor, but this is one of those times. On Sunday, February 16, Scott E. Blumenthal had a spectacular reading at Quail Ridge Books in Raleigh, North Carolina (a great store in the last place I lived), enrapturing a large crowd with his sparkling personality and his jaw-dropping book.
Photo via Scott Birnbaum
I accepted The Kiss for publication, edited it, edited it again, and made all the changes required by copyedits. I also dealt with a million little necessary details before and after publication. In short, I had a small hand in bringing The Kiss to fruition, and I'd like that to go on the record.
Photo via Scott Birnbaum
I'm really proud of The Kiss. Thank you. That is all.

Winter's Tale Then and Now

I read Helprin's Winter'sTale the year before I graduated college on the recommendation of my thesis advisor in preparation for writing my thesis (which turned out to be the novella Tree/House ). I'm sure it was recommended because of my interest in magical realism, but my reading of it went much farther than academic analysis, and like a lot of readers of this book, I experienced an enduring, gasping devotion to it long after I forgot what it was about. (If I ever knew. It's special in its inability to be pinpointed.) Even now, having moved a million times, I have Winter's Tale with me. I've gotten rid of a lot of stuff, but's non-negotiable. I tried to read other Helprin works, but they never worked out. Maybe I can only go through such a complex, transformative experience once.

Go to the microfiche for the really amazing discoveries.Fast forward to 2014, and there's a movie of this unwieldy masterpiece. It was such a thrill when the first trailers came out. To think, someone dared to bring Winter's Tale to the cinema! I doubted it could be done — and apparently, so did everyone else! The reviews have been terrible.

I went to see it on opening day (Valentine's Day — thanks, sweetheart!) and the film is lovely to look at and highly sentimental, a perfect Valentine. If it weren't compared to the book, it wouldn't be judged so harshly. In fact, I'm not sure the two should be considered together because this goes beyond the usual cutting necessary for the visual medium. It's so simplified and reprocessed, it's hardly the same story at all.

I have personal reasons for being okay with the movie version being so much more linear and to the point. When I read the book, it encouraged me to see the world in a complicated, ritualized way I was already cultivating. But I went to see the film with my one true love, and our life is simple and our love is uncomplicated, so both art forms were a perfect match for the way things were going with me at the time.

A bad reason to like a movie that doesn't deliver even half the messages of its book? I don't think so. See the Winter's Tale movie with your true love and you'll see what I mean.

All The Small Things: A Guest Post from My Husband

Our wedding day in 2009.My dear husband had some musings about the meaning of love, and since it's so close to Valentine's Day, I'm letting him take over the blog. Thanks, sweetheart!

Why is one day a year, Valentine’s Day, designated to show love to your significant other? Is this all that the most important person in your life deserves? One day of the expression of your love and devotion? What about the rest of the year? The other 364 days? I would suggest that Valentine’s Day be an everyday occasion and, I make every attempt to make it so. 
As we all know, “love” is a concept – a notion that is not well defined and, in all likelihood, has a somewhat different meaning for most everyone. As with the “meaning,” you most likely exhibit love to your “special person” differently. I try to exhibit how I care about this most special person in my life in many ways – each and every day. It’s not always about the big things – boxes of chocolate, greeting cards, flowers, trips and such. It’s more about finding small ways to make your partner’s day-to-day life special. Recognizing that everyone is a product of their childhood conditioning, you must find what’s important to them and do things for them that they enjoy or treasure – the smallest of things.
Jessica and I go out of our way to take care of each other all year long. Openly and truly taking care of each other – not because we have to, and not out of habit, but consciously doing these things in the present moment. We celebrate our anniversary more than once a year, acknowledging it each month at least.
I love to make her happy in doing chores around the house, making her breakfasts, opening the car door for her, being a good listener, doing the “heavy lifting” around the house and keeping things clean, telling her “I Love You” frequently, that she’s the most beautiful woman I have ever known and thank her for choosing me as her life partner. She loves chocolate, so I make sure she has plenty. The list could go on for pages.
There are many, many small things we do for each other with no expectation that the kindness be returned but – magically – it is. Of course, we both have our occasional “off” days and we strive to provide the support to help those days pass with any additional trauma.
I never take Jessica for granted. She has fulfilled every dream that I had for a partner. My only regret is that we did not meet much earlier.
Thank you darlin’ for everything! Happy Valentine’s Day.

Love for Little Rhody: The RISD Museum

Check out this virtual tour of The Breakers. I live so close to Newport that I could visit just about any time it's not snowing or sleeting on the roads.

But Newport is not the only place in Rhode Island that's full of splendor and history. At the end of the twentieth century, Providence was considered the armpit of New England and there was no earthly reason for my friends and I to head south when we were in college, no, it was always north to Boston. But by the time I went to Brown for my PhD, Providence was on its way to becoming the thriving jewel it is now.

The part I'd like to highlight today is on the East Side. My husband and I recently visited the RISD (Rhode Island School of Design) Museum, and we had some trouble finding a parking spot. But it wasn't the annoyance it might have been because we zipped by all the landmarks I can only look on with love. And when we finally parked and started walking down the hill back to Benefit Street, I couldn't help but thrill a little to each one of the historical plaques. One after another, they describe the history of this part of Providence. They're well maintained and you can just about imagine yourself walking through in the nineteenth century. It seemed there was one of these plaques on every single building we walked past, not to mention the Athenaeum, one of the first library-like repositories of history. That stuff makes me giddy with joy. No wonder I wanted to write about this place in my Providence trilogy! And what better way to write on a love theme at this time of year?

Inside the RISD Museum is a whole other wonderland of creativity, beauty, and history. From the latest student exhibitions to ancient Egyptian sculptures, the collection spans just about everything I can think of when it comes to art. Their medieval collection is spine-tingling, with some imposingly gorgeous Spanish examples and a curlicued grate for sealing off chapels I wish I could have somewhere in my home.

We spent several hours trying to take it all in. Two items really stood out this time.

First, this ivory etching (not a practice I would condone today) by Goya. I love that it's Spanish and that the subjects are reading. It's tiny, but it's all Goya. The wispy clothes, the mischievous expressions. You get the feeling these boys have either never seen a book before or are getting away with some naughty reading. (Yes, those are my fingers reflecting off the protective glass.)

Keeping with the reading/writing theme, this women's writing desk knocked me out. In the background of the picture you can see some famous Bostonian Gilded Age paintings, but this desk kept me spellbound because I could vividly imagine using it. It was made to impress, with pounds of silver and other precious materials, for the World's Fair in 1893. As I picture using it to write, of course, the first thing that come to mind is whether I would be too distracted with how I looked to really write. Did they put those mirrors on ladies' writing desks to keep their minds where they should be, on the shallow things? Or is it intended to reflect light and save eyesight?

Just one of many imponderables presented by this excellent collection of art.

My husband and I met on February 13, six years ago. Enjoy this week of love!

The Procrastination Cure

This is a sloth. Do sloths procrastinate? (No, they don't.)I've seen a lot of posts on how to cure procrastination, and I'm always puzzled by them because I've never suffered from it.

Why not? It's a question of belief. I do not believe in procrastination.

The word was made up from Latin components. Pro = for, cras = tomorrow. What a silly word! For-tomorrow-ination!

We're always doing something, even if it's just breathing, so I always figure, why not being doing something that has a deadline? Why not get it done long before said deadline? I don't find it easy to leave things for tomorrow because, let's face it: tomorrow doesn't exist. It's a question of priorities. If it's worth doing, do it today, because there is no tomorrow. I mean this at the existential, philosophical, and practical levels. If you keep this in mind, it becomes laughable to procrastinate, a weird mental exercise in futility because leaving something for tomorrow is leaving it for a time that does not exist.

Today we're more overcommitted than ever, so it's important to prioritize. What is most important to you? What would it be okay to omit? In procrastinating, we condemn certain activities to never being done, so make sure they're the less interesting or important ones.

And if that doesn't work, just remember, it's really cras to leave things for tomorrow.

The New York Literary Scene

On a frigid (though less cold than it had been the past few days) night in the East Village (a place I'd never been before in my life despite a few jaunts to Manhattan), we approached a bar (which is not something my husband and I would normally do) that held the promise of a fine literary evening (which it delivered).

When my friend and (now long-distance) critique group co-founder Reneé Bibby mentioned that she would be in New York City doing a reading, I was still living in North Carolina, but I planned and hoped that I would be at least somewhat established in New England by January 26, the night the reading happened. And I was! My husband and I had to drive for a while and then take a train for quite a while, and as it turned out, we didn't get home until 2 a.m., but it was a small effort to attend such a momentous event.

I'm sure it's going to be far from one of a kind, however. Reneé is so talented, there will be many more publications and many more readings. This first one was in honor of the branch sites of the Writers Studio, an institution that promotes the craft of writing and produces award winners like so many snowflakes. Reneé teaches lucky students at the Tucson branch. (See an excerpt and a link to her first publication at her site.)

My husband and I were wearing all the layers of clothes we could manage to sit down in, and it was a good thing, because the KGB Bar is a little walk from a subway stop The breeze wasn't warm enough to have anything gentle about it, but we were aided by a new app called Street View, suggested by my brother, another talented writer. I had heard of this bar before, but would later learn why we were headed there: it's often the host to cozy, classy literary events. In the gloom of 6:30 pm, we found the KGB Bar by its neon lights and ascended the outer stairs.

From there, the only real choice was to follow the urging arrow up more stairs. Already I was put in mind of that percolating atmosphere I encountered at college readings and in many parts of Iowa City — a sort of shabby chic irony fueled by burgeoning creativity, posters, and peeling paint. The bar itself is smaller than my new apartment and crowded with tables and USSR paraphernalia, most importantly, perhaps, a statue of Leon Trotsky behind the bar. The walls are painted thickly red with black accents. Reneé was perceptive enough to compare it to being inside a heart.

After a happy reunion with Reneé, my husband and I sat with some of the many Tucson writers who showed up to support her. I knew some of them, so it was an unexpectedly comprehensive and fun blast from the past. I'm so impressed with the enthusiastic set of supporters Reneé has! Even when I gave readings in college I only ever had one or two people cheering and whooping, but here it seemed like 75% of the audience was there for one special person, and I know I was one of them.

Five people read at a podium with a circle of red Christmas lights behind them. It seemed as if Reneé was the only one tall enough to make a proper halo out of it. All the readings were stellar excerpts from each author's opus, but Reneé's story was the most achingly beautiful, the most painstakingly perfect. I know firsthand that every line had been labored over in draft after draft for about two years, and that effort of love resulted in something deceptively seamless, smooth, and surprising.

I'm definitely a city girl. That day, I felt energized and creative in spite of a draining journey that required three days to recover from. You just don't get that spark from anywhere but a good city. Or I don't, anyway. What a wonderful welcome back to the Northeast!

Alfonso X and Sevilla at Unusual Historicals

Check out this epic post on Unusual Historicals, in which I share a little of the history of my favorite king and his favorite city.

Coming Up In March

A rare Javan rhinoThe editor of the fine web publication Linguistic Erosion has given me the great news that a flash fiction of mine will be published there in March!

In some 489 words, it explains the plight of the Javan rhinoceros, this rarest of the already rare rhinoceros species. It's one of a five-flash suite that celebrates each species in an entertaining and hopefully, at times, informative and/or artistic way. I can't wait to share it with you! And of course I hope to have news about its five companion pieces soon, too...

Magic Realism, The Class, Part II

One of the tools we used in the magical realism class I took in December was this video, which answers any questions writers might have about how to proceed and what to do as a writer in one minute and twenty-nine seconds.


We also studied "Harrison Bergeron" by Kurt Vonnegut. For me, it still doesn't qualify as magical realism, but it is an astounding story that everyone who likes to write and all people who like to read would do well to read carefully. Notice how it executes all the advice in the video! He practices what he preaches. Admirable, and I hope, inspiring for you all.

Magic Realism, The Class

by Rob GonsalvesI've mused on this blog about magic realism before (here and here). It seems to be more acceptable in the mainstream as time passes, with stories like Life of Pi, to take just one example, directly addressing the question of what is the breaking point of a reader's stretched credibility. This last December, I took a course in writing magic realism online from the T. J. Eckleburg Workshops, mainly because I wanted to get a firmer grasp on what exactly it is and whether I still write it.

Overall, it was a great class. The other writers had some spectacular talent, I got to read some great stories, and I wrote two of my own. We're supposed to write three, but the final assignment prompted me to think about the last part of the Providence trilogy (which is paranormal, not magical realism) instead. It's wonderful when stories take over.

In the class, magic realism is defined as a sweet spot on a continuum between realistic fiction and fantasy. The overall world of the story is realistic, but magical or fantastical elements appear in a fleeting way that could be the result of perception or point of view. My favorite part about magical realism is that the magic is not explained. It's the reader's job to decide either what's real or what the magical element means in the realistic context, or both.

In masterpieces like "A Very Old Man with Enormous Wings" by Gabriel García Márquez, for example, the appearance of a winged man in the village is factual, but his meaning is the cause of lively debate both within the text and for the readers. On the other hand, this course considers "The Yellow Wallpaper" by Charlotte Perkins Gilman an early work of magical realism because of the way the author toys with perception. (Both are incredible, worthwhile stories. Read them immediately.)

When I was writing in college, I was a classic magical realist. It's not that I had the amazing discipline necessary to maintain the balance described above, but that I was reading so much twentieth-century Latin American literature and being so thrilled and inspired by it. However, lately I've tended toward paranormal and out-and-out fantasy. It might be because I can maintain the balance of magic realism in short stories, but not in the longer pieces I've been writing.

I'm going to be revising the stories I wrote for this course and letting my imagination run with the idea of how to extend a magical idea over a longer piece. It was insane to take such an inspiring class right before making what may be the biggest, most important, trans-state move of my life, but a little insanity puts the vigor in my writing, right?