January 22: "Creative Writing," Grant, John Green

Billy Collins teaches . . . 

Creative Writing

by:  Billy Collins

When I told a student

not to use single quotation marks

around lines of dialogue,

he told me that all our words

are already inside the quotation marks

that God placed around Creation.

I don't often get to teach creative writing at the university.  The administration saves "fun" classes like that for tenured faculty and grad students.  (Yes, you read that right:  grad students.)  So, I don't get to have interesting conversations like this one.  (By the way, the student in the poem is sort of correct, because, in Genesis, God speaks everything into being:  "Let there be . . . "  So, if you're a literalist, we're all just living words straight out of God's mouth.)

Today, for me, God said, "Let there be an NEA grant."  And, because I always follow God's commandments, that's what I did--worked on a grant.  All . . . day . . . long . . .

My mind and body are a little exhausted tonight.  I made a lot of headway on the grant, though, but it's not done yet.  As I worked on it, I kept thinking to myself, This is a waste of time.  You're not going to get this grant.  

When I first started working for the library, I naively agreed to write a $20,000 NEA Big Read grant.  It was so much work, and, when I finally submitted it, I thought that I had wasted 60 days of my life.  Four months later, I received an email from Arts Midwest with the following word in its memo line:  "Congratulations."  

A year later, I submitted another NEA Big Read grant.  This time, however, I actually believed I was a shoe-in for a two-peat.  Four months later, I received an email with the words "Case Number:  00031617" in its memo line.  Translation:  "Sorry, Charlie."

So, I'm batting 500 when it comes to grant writing, and the whole process has become an exercise in self torture.  By around 4 p.m. today, I was feeling more than a little defeated.  So, I went for a walk around the library to clear my head.  And that's when it happened.

As I was standing in the Circulation Department, my friend, Melissa, introduced me to a friend of hers, and I lost my mind.  It was John Green.  THE John Green.  John Green of Turtles All the Way Down and Paper Towns and Looking for Alaska and An Abundance of Katherines.  Oh, also the John Green of The Fault In Our Stars.

I'm not ashamed to admit that I went a little fanboy all over him.  It was a pretty amazing moment.  For people who think that working in a library is not exciting, let me list a few other people whom I've met as part of my job:  Les Standiford, Natasha Trethewey, Joy Harjo, Diane Seuss, and Alex Gino.  That's two U. S. Poets Laureate, the author of The Man Who Invented Christmas, a Pulitzer Prize-winning poet, and a bestselling YA writer.  

And now John Green.

I've been riding that wave since this afternoon, and I'll probably be riding it for the rest of the week.  Long enough to get me through the submission of the NEA grant.

Saint Marty has had a pretty good day after a pretty crappy weekend.

May 22: A Small Bug, Pizza and Chicken, Stars and Faults

And so, talking to herself, the spider worked at her difficult task.  When it was completed, she felt hungry.  She ate a small bug that she had been saving.  Then she slept.

Work is work.  Making a web for Charlotte is a difficult task.  It takes her an entire night to spin one of her miracles.  When she's done with her task, she's exhausted and hungry.  She eats a snack and then takes a nap.

That's pretty much the way I felt tonight when I got home.  Another long day at my new job.  It's getting slowly better.  I don't have to ask half as many questions, but I still have to ask.  Some things are simply not sinking in.  Again, I feel more like a hindrance than a help.

Of course, the reason I was so good at my last job was because I did it for close to 17 years.  That's right.  Almost two decades.  I need to cut myself some slack with this new position.  There is going to be no overnight miracle for me.  I need to keep trying and trying until I catch on or I'm booted out.

This evening, my book club met at my house to discuss The Fault in Our Stars.  There were no small bugs served at our potluck, but there was plenty of pizza and chicken and wings.  Oh, yeah, we also talked about the book, which everybody loved.  I finished it about 20 minutes before everybody showed up, so I didn't have a whole lot of time to process the ending.

I will say that I was very pleasantly surprised.  I liked it.  A lot.  The characters were sharply drawn, and the prose managed to be profound and witty at the same time.  I would recommend it to anybody.

Saint Marty would give it four stars and no faults.

No small bugs at our table

May 1: In My Book Bag, John Green, "The Fault in Our Stars"

OK, let me lament a little bit more at the beginning of this post.

I just spent almost an hour boxing up the belongings in my university office in preparation for my move to another office in a brand new building.  I have to say that I'm kind of tired of putting my life in boxes.  I did it all morning yesterday, and now I've done it again this evening.

So much of my life seems to be changing, and not for the better.  At least, I don't see any light at the end of this tunnel yet.  This weekend, I'm venturing into the lower peninsula of Michigan for another dance competition with my daughter.  And when I get back, it's my last week of work at the medical office.  It's going to be a rough few days.

In my book bag tonight, I'm carrying John Green's The Fault in Our Stars.  I have not begun reading it.  It's my trip book.  I have avoided this book for a while, despite glowing recommendations from people whose opinion I usually respect.  I don't know why I've been balking at reading this novel.  I guess I don't like being told I "have" to read anything.  That's why I never finished Moby Dick.

Anyway, my next post will be coming from bustling Howell, Michigan, which is very close to Ann Arbor, home of the University of Michigan.  It's going to be a long day of driving tomorrow, and my son is a little impatient as a passenger.

Pray for Saint Marty.

This is your life, Saint Marty