With a forever-thank-you to the SFPA,
I‘m happy to announce that
the 2018 Elgin Award.
A morning panel at 10 AM was the plan. The original plan had included an afternoon reading, but with nothing to do in between and checkout at 1, the plan got pared down. I packed my stuff and then packed my car and then went in search of hot tea. The free coffee outside of the hotel restaurant did not have a hot water accompaniment, so I had decaf. Then I realized I could have taken the empty cup to my room to make tea in. So I drank the coffee and then rinsed the cup and then had tea. It was early. I had time to drink things.
I watched the news. I watched some Mystery Science Theatre on Netflix (the hotel TV had a smart TV). I check all the drawers again to see if I’d left anything behind. I found reading materials.
Then I headed out to the second panel I’d attend on social media. If you’ll recall, the first one didn’t exactly go as planned. I hoped that this one would not include unwanted touching or any other kinds of accosting.
When I got to the room, the door didn’t open, so I leaned against the wall and tried to get the wi-fi to hook up to my phone. I’d been doing this since I’d arrived on Friday to no avail. Then I heard a door open and someone say, Hey you stalking me?
It’s game time! Ooh, I think this is the first time I’m doing this on this blog. Or maybe the second. Whatever, we haven’t done this in a while.
Question: Who was the guy who came out of the room across the hall?
(a) Hotel staff
(b) Someone from the Brooklyn Speculative Fiction Writers crowd
(c) Okay, this is dumb. We all know the answer is B because there’s no one else it could be.
I was like, Oh hey.
And he was like, You waiting for a session to start?
I was like, Yeah but I think the door is locked.
He walked over and then opened the door.
This. Is. My. Life.
He held it open for me, and I walked in, and we both told each other to have a good day. I sat on an aisle seat towards the middle and again fought with the wi-fi. Then two men came in–two of the three Glenns from yesterday–and one asked if I had moved from that seat. Because that’s exactly where I sat during their panel. On the plus side, someone remembered me, and that’s actually a nice change of pace. Usually, I have to introduce myself to people about nine times on the average until they recognize me later on. This is not self-pity. This is another fact of life, and I’m okay with that.
More panelists came in followed by two more audience members, so the panel began. It was a good conversation about social media. They didn’t really give the ins and outs of actual examples of how-tos and which apps (Reddit was mentioned but not like how to actually use Reddit so it is still a complete mystery), but they did give solid advice about writing: be genuinely consistent and consistently genuine. I kind of know that, but it’s good reinforcement. One of them talked about how one of his non-fiction pieces went viral and how he continued to blog using interesting titles. So, click-bait.
Another is a creative writing professor at St. John’s and a fiction writer. He made some grading references and student paper references, so he was speaking my language. So much so that I went up to him afterwards, introduced myself as a professor at NCC, and then chatted about students and social media. Yeah, that’s right. I went up to someone. I engaged in conversation. A conversation I started. He agreed that that the younger generation is into the way everyone thinks they are.
Here are the two take-aways that stood out:
What I’ve found is I do all the things these panels talk about. I don’t have the kind of following they all have. The main difference seems to be that I don’t go out and meet people face to face as much as they do. I suppose I should go to conventions and conferences more often. I can take my department travel money and run! (Of course, the travel budget for each faculty member barely covers one conference registration, but you know, one can dream.)
I ate a Larabar, put on The Dear Mattie Show Podcast, and drove home, listening to the GPS until I got to Bronx River Parkway and then took my own way home. Where I found the house immaculately clean courtesy of Eddie. Aww, what a way to end a weekend.
Whenever I use the word “skillz,” you know I must be up to something creatively good. “Good” is a subjective term. You’ll see. I’ve been playing around with Storify and my MS Movie Maker to teach myself how to teach a class in rudimentary tech skillz. The other reason: my book is going to be published soon, and this is my new marketing plan. Make videos. Storify them. Send them out into the world. Here goes.
UPDATE: Okay, so my mad WordPress skillz seem to not be on point. I’ve got the embed code from Storify and the HTML tab chosen. It’s not working. And so, to see my video skillz, here’s a link instead.
Impressed, aren’t you? With, like, this whole thing, huh?
ImAGatsbyGirl became the go-to avatar when I needed a screen name about a decade ago. It then became GatsbyGirl due to character space issues. And laziness, as you well know.
Actually, maybe you don’t know. If you never saw Livin’ The Dream or A Life of We, then you probably don’t. Hi, there. I’m a lazy blogger prone to awkwardness and fits of sweating for reasons such as rejoicing and getting nervous and breathing. I spell names wrong and I rarely look things up. I’ve blogged on WordPress before, but never for my own personal reasons. Blogger was always the place for that. Clearly, that’s changed. Here I am, world, look at me. See? That’s a comma splice, and I’m not fixing it.
Back to the Gatsby. I’ve been reading So We Read On, a book that’s been on my to-read list (the list in my head and my official Goodreads list) since it came out. Its subtitle explains that it traces How The Great Gatsby Came To Be and Why It Endures. I figured it would offer intriguing reasons for America’s penchant for it in a chronologically narrated tome. Instead, I’ve found it to be tedious reading that doubles back on itself in sections that repeat information because they are framed around what I think are themes, but I’m not certain if that’s what they’re based on because, well, I don’t like it.
I’m continuing to read it because I simply can’t not finish a book once I’ve begun. Three exceptions: Helen Gurley Brown’s Sex and the Single Girl‘s first page is so awful, I stopped reading. The first lines of Lolita are so creepy, that I shut it right up. The Confederacy of Dunces is absolutely horrible, and I don’t care if everyone else in your MFA writing program sings its praises. It’s crap. It’s too long, but more importantly, it’s crappity crap crap. If I actually gave up on it, it’s really that bad.
The second half is turning out to be more interesting than the first because it’s discussing more enduring and less how it came to be. I suppose I thought it would be mostly about its endurance, which means, It’s me, not the book itself.
Plus, I always have high expectations for Gatsby-related items. It’s my favorite book.
I don’t know why it’s my favorite book. I’m not like other bookworms who will read and re-read their favorite books. I like to read new books, as many as I can. I’m a slow reader, and my job requires me to read everything other than books like emails and discussion boards and essays, so my time for reading needs to be crafted purposefully. Last year, I read 80 books because I was on sabbatical. This year, my goal is 20, which is still lofty.
Back to Gatsby. One reason it’s a favorite is its setting. Born, raised, and living on Long Island, I adore most Long Island-set literature. Another reason is its cover. Yes, you can judge a book by its cover. So We Read On dedicates more than a few passages to the creation of the cover, so I’m not the only one who thinks it’s important.
Here’s a confession: I can’t really tell you the entire story complete with all the characters in the order that it all unfolds, and my favorite movie version was the one on A&E with Paul Rudd. I have a really poor memory, and only “favorite” thing I can relate to you word for word is the Channel 11 edited version of The Breakfast Club. Most things from my childhood appear clearer in my mind than books, shows, and movies after I was 10.
Still, Gatsby is a favorite. It’s alliterative, which makes it catchy and easy to say, so when someone asks me my favorite book, I can say it all fast and fancy: The Great Gatsby! Though usually, I say simply, Gatsby, because everyone knows what I’m talking about.
Really what strikes me about it is that I’m a sucker for language. That’s probably why I’m a poet. Pretty structure. Fresh image. Cadence in prose. Fitzgerald crafted and recrafted the heck out of this little book that seems so simple.
So then I found out that, like, other people have read it and love it just as much. I never read it in school, but apparently, lots of other people have. Lots of teachers teach it. Then that DiCaprio version happened, and it became super all the rage all at once. Incidentally, I threw a party with a bootlegging 1920s theme at the end of that year, but it wasn’t about The Great Gatsby although the fake bar was named after Gatsby. Even when I don’t seek him out, he finds me.
In the meantime, I submitted to and was accepted by Silver Birch’s The Great Gatsby Anthology. The follow up to that was another of my poems posted by Silver Birch on their site to celebrate Fitzgerald’s birthday. The press also runs posts about the authors, so I appeared again in my Gatsby glory. My brother spent a day with me attempting to get as close as we could to Manhasset Bay to snap a picture of me with the anthology in front of it. The rich people of the North Shore have private roads and parks, so us poorer folk settle for a park through which you can kind of see the Bay if you imagine it beyond the hills and trees.
All this reading and reminiscing makes me want to do what I never do. I want to re-read Gatsby. It’s not on my Goodreads list, but there’s something about the reach for the green light that makes me want to again reach for the book. Then I’ll start reading some stuff about Zelda, which may take me to that dangerous spot of not liking Fitzgerald or Gatsby. I’ve heard some things. They’re not that great.
Last year, I went on a short Hemingway trip. This year, it may as well be Fitzgerald.
Currently reading: So We Read On by Maureen Corrigan
Currently watching: Chelsea, The Big Bang Theory Season 9, Homeland