Living in Sections

Coming Back to Bukowski

noreply@blogger.com (Erin L. Delaney) — Fri, 24 Sep 2010 02:45:00 +0000

Coming Back to Bukowski
Listlessly, I flip through piles of books
looking for something new,
something to bring on some fire.
Instead I stare down
Bukowski.
We've been introduced before.
I open the “Dog from Hell’s” pages
readjust the glue
attempting to recover
the nonstick binding,
and pour myself a glass
of his words.--
I hate that
it’s always Bukowski
I go back to—
that chauvinist,
that drunk bastard.
But it’s a strange love affair.
Nobody tells it
so ardent
like a cigarette burn.
So impetuous
like a back alley boxing match.
So brazen, you can’t
deny his truisms.
Damn him!
Doesn’t he know
this goblet will slide to the floor
as my own words dribble
from my lips
and pen stumbles over paper?—
Still, like a hand
raised to the bartender,
I turn the page,
hailing another poem.

noreply@blogger.com (Erin L. Delaney) — Wed, 12 May 2010 18:18:00 +0000

The cell phone
sits on the windowsill
dimly lighting the room.
Out the window-
one single star,
but instead, I think of how far away
you are. It feels like
light years.
I watch the twinkling
of the cell phone
until my eyelids
grow heavy
and I breathe in the cool darkness.

Crimes in the Wyoming Valley: An Evening of Spoken Word / Jazz Improvisation

noreply@blogger.com (Erin L. Delaney) — Wed, 20 May 2009 00:31:00 +0000

*This information is from my good friend Gil Helmick.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pZm2g79wiRw&feature=related
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rl3mW6YlJMk&feature=related

Featuring snowmonks Gil Helmick and Jesse Lynch plus Ron Stabinsky.

Saturday, May 30, 2009
8:00 P.M.
All Ages
Free Will Donation
St. Stephen's Episcopal Church
35 S. Franklin St.
Wilkes-Barre, PA

Jesse and Gil return to the Wyoming Valley following years on separate paths that lead to many destinations from California to Nova Scotia to intersect in Portland, Maine in 2008. Jesse Lynch was raised in Kingston.

Gil Helmick operated a business in Wilkes Barre for twenty years before pursuing his passions of poetry and fiction

snowmonks is a New York City based poetry- jazz-classical fusion ensemble. Through the magical synergy of spontaneous musical interaction and vivid poetry, snowmonks conjures fresh sonic landscapes, which breathe, evolve, and erupt with masterful ingenuity and mindful abandon. With self-assured momentum and fine articulation, each line of poetry injects new breath into consciousness. snowmonks swims with a current of supreme adventure and sublime lyricism, and dares to do so with one foot rooted in black humor. The music is unequivocally in the moment, patient in its contrapuntal unfolding, and historically and stylistically informed. From longer compositions such as "The Marriage of the Future to the Moment" to the sudden burst of "Proletariat Zen Prayer," snowmonks illuminates the audience with line-by-line, note-by-note epiphanies.

snowmonks evolved from a random idea shared by pianist Jesse Lynch and poet Gil Helmick. In November of 2008, Jesse and Gil spent an afternoon improvising at Jesse's piano. They haven't looked back. Seven months later, Old Port Records offered a recording contract.

Poet Gil Helmick graduated with Honors and Distinction from the California State University in Sonoma, California, in 1976. He avoided graduate school, choosing instead to travel throughout the United States, Canada, South America, Central America, as well as through parts of Europe and Asia. His experiences during this time ranged from nights in Park Avenue hotels to stays at Brazilian truck stops, and from the intimacies of the high South American jungles to drinking wine with derelicts on the cold winter sidewalks of the Tenderloin in San Francisco. During the early 1980's, Gil's work was published in small California anthologies, and he performed over 40 public readings. In March of 1985, he flew to Paraguay and Brazil to write fiction, completing two novels: The Accomplice, and Wounded Angels. He recently completed a collection of poetry titled, Wounded by Zen. His poem, "The Evolution of Apocalypse," was used as text for a jazz opera, performed at the Brooklyn Lyceum, Brooklyn, NY, in September of 2008.

Pianist Jesse Lynch began playing piano at age 3, and went on to earn his B.M. in Piano Performance from the Oberlin Conservatory of Music. His teachers have included: Ron Stabinksy, Tom Hrynkiw, Bob Durso, Robert Shannon, Dan Wall, Marc Steiner, Antonio Pompa-Baldi, Ivan Davis, Rosendo Santos and Andrea Bogusko. His styles encompass jazz, classical, popular arrangements, original rock, spontaneous solo composition and ensemble improvisation. As a solo performer, Jesse has served as full-time pianist at the Ahwahnee Hotel in Yosemite National Park, CA, and has been a guest artist at the White Barn Inn in Kennebunkport, ME. Jesse regularly travels to California for seasonal jazz duo performances with Christer Norden. As an accompanist, he has worked in a wide variety of genres, for a diverse collection of instrumentalists and vocalists. He is also a sought-after piano teacher, vocal coach, music director for area theatres, and a church organist. A native of Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania, he currently resides in Portland, Maine, where he regularly performs and records with local artists, and frequently attends sessions at a Vipassana Meditation Center in Western Massachusetts.

Ron received his first musical lessons at the age of five from Michael Hoysock, his grandfather. Currently, he is stimulated by the process of improvising music in solo and small ensemble situations, while continuing to be inspired by studying and performing music of various past traditions. He has studied the art of improvisation with Bill Dixon and Joel Futterman. Sessions with Jack Wright and the many manifestations of Jack's generous spirit in the world of improvised music have also provided much impetus for recent growth in Ron's own work.

Since January 2007, he has been producing an ongoing series of music performances, often focused on improvisation, in Wilkes-Barre, PA. He received Pennsylvania Partners in the Arts Project Grants in 2007 and 2008 for this series. Recent performances of written repertoire include the Gershwin Rhapsody in Blue with the Wyoming Seminary/Performing Arts Institute Civic Symphony Orchestra (Kingston, PA) and the complete Beethoven Violin Sonatas with violinist Sophie Till.

Ron is a piano student of Edna Golandsky and Ilya Itin. He is the 2008 recipient of the F. Lammot Belin Arts Scholarship.

On snowmonks' "Crimes Against Inhumanity"

"Snowmonks is not just another garden variety, beatnik mangue' jazz-meets-poetry project. This is a REALLY good band: tight, visionary and confidently energetic. Gil Helmick is a REALLY good poet with a seriously great ear for the musical settings of which he is an integral part, not just a pseudo-hipsteristic vehicle for perfunctory accompanists.

Helmick's voice, minimally modulated, plays against the "controlled" and intuitive improvisations of the band's primary soloists, Jesse Lynch on piano and the amazing Mark Tipton on trumpet. With an uncanny sense of timing and subtle nuances of pitch, snowmonks make "Crimes Against Inhumanity" the hippest representation of this artistic cross pollination that I've heard since the last, alas, Steve Swallow/ Bob Creeley sessions. A real gem!"

Paul Lichter Dimensions in Jazz

"Gil Helmick's poetry is powerful and his delivery deceptively
quiet. The snowmonk music swings underneath Helmick's words."

-- Michael Simmons Huffington Post

"I have been artistically enlightened by snowmonks. They have blurred the lines between art forms and expanded my conceptions of music, improvisation, poetry, literature, and collaboration. Working with this fine ensemble of musicians and soulful people has been a wild and invigorating journey; and I have learned more than I have lent. The parts I contributed were exhilarating. I thought that perhaps I discovered snowmonks, but in fact, their art is so timeless I can't take the credit.

Let the world discover snowmonks - and the many dimensions contained therein - and be dazzled. These musical and artistic pioneers aren't taking prisoners. They fuse poetry, wherein every line leaves you daydreaming; and music, whose every phrase spins into a haunting symphony... well, should that be a crime?"

Taylor Mesple
Musician
Songwriter
Twenty year performer and producer featured on 150 CDs

"You could read poetry. But would you hear the rhythmic tap of percussive syllables, or the dissonance of conflicting observations, or the meandering of thoughts looking for satori? The poetry of snowmonks emits its truth in the tightly interwoven utterances of voice and instruments. The combination of word and note make "crimes against inhumanity" a unique art form that must have one element to complete the other.

Recorded in an obscure Maine mill town in the summer of 2008, "crimes against inhumanity" is the first release by the eclectic ensemble of musicians and solo poet. Although the recording was masterfully mixed by Inner Circle Productions and released on Old Port Records, each of the eight tracks truly found its own life with jazz improvisation.

Each member of the ensemble provides an incredibly deep well of talent and impulse for self expression. Months of experimentation and rehearsals finally brought them together in a highly professional and cohesive production.

There's the poet, Gil Helmick, who times his reading with the patience and simpatico of a jazz musician in no hurry to take the stage from his fellow artists. He waits, comes in when the beat calls, then fades out for the music to amplify his meaning, then adds his own understated punctuation. In "proletariat zen prayer" from his 2007 "wounded by zen" collection, Helmick plays into the tension created by the music before deftly delivering the last line "again." With that one word, after a long interplay of sounds, the poem crystallizes. Helmick graduated from California State University in Sonoma in 1976. At times he has explored the North and South American continents. At times, he has explored the dusty rooms of his grandparents' house in Belgium. And as all poets do, he has explored his own world view while challenging or reinforcing yours.

In contrast to the wryly weathered Helmick, pianist Jesse Lynch brings a fresh innocence that translates the entire world into an adventure or lab experiment. He earned his degree in piano performance from Oberlin Conservatory of Music, but he began his love affair with the keyboard at age 3. Lynch intuitively assumes Helmick's experiences into this own musical language colored by his training in the classics, jazz, and improvisation.

Lynch frequently finds his way to Vipaassana Medication Center in rural Massachusetts where cellist Wayne Smith makes his home. Smith has played with the likes of The Spin Doctors, The Moody Blues, and the New Jersey Philharmonic. Sometimes Smith's discordant strings meet Helmick's baritone reading pitch to create a mood of humorous melancholy like that found in "the marriage of the future to the moment" and "as subtle as possible."

When it comes to mood, Mark Tipton is the master. Frantic paranoia, despondent acceptance, and heightened anticipation come through Tipton's horn in various muted and blaring degrees. Tipton also earned his degree from Oberlin Conservatory of Music and currently teaches trumpet and coaches jazz bands in Maine. He studied at the Henry Mancini Institute at UCLA where he jammed with jazz royalty Bobby McFerrin, Quincy Jones, and Doc Severinsen.

Tipton's jazz credits, along with Lynch's and Smith's classical backgrounds, make snowmonks not just another throwback to the Beat era when anything could be music providing a backdrop to anything that could be poetry. Snowmonks are a tight group that collectively expresses itself with the inseparable blend of voice as instrument and of notes as meaning. They are meant to be heard."
Emily Tuttle - Journalist

"An exquisite melding of skilled musical improvisation and spoken word, *crimes against inhumanity* explores political, personal and humorous themes. Gil Helmick's clear, calm voice is deftly supported by an array of grooves, melodic excursions, rhythmic fantasies, squeals and moans that meld together in a most engaging and provocative fusion."

John Smedley Professor of physics,
musical acoustics and jazz guitar

"It is an exceptional work. The sophistication of the music is tremendously appealing. I'm a classically trained musician and deeply interested in the ebb and flow of 20th century art music. It is amazing to hear how comfortably this work sits with written works that verge on improvisation like Schoenberg's Pierrot Lunaire. I'd also draw parallels with Walton's Façade, but that's mostly tightly controlled, bumptious silliness and your work is decidedly not that.

To think that snowmonks pulled this off so cleanly, so passionately and, in a studio without an audience, is great testimony to the maturity of your collective artistic selves and the sensitivity you have to each other's contributions to the whole."

John-Michael Albert singer, composer, poet

"Gil Helmick and his surrealist-derived poems...reside in a natural humanism, and are advanced by a manic dark humor...Helmick's lines have the classic signature of original work in this vein...Much of his work has the insistence of syllogistic premise in geo-logical layers that astound and amuse at every turn. Some can be harsh and fraught with psychological overtones. .Their intent exaggerates the persona and renders it more disquieting, certainly a prime surrealist objective. Complacency is the true enemy of awareness. That the structure of logical postulation could be employed for the purposes of illogic resonates with quantum ignificance...Borrowing from the radical prosody of the East, Helmick also adapts the haiku form to his surrealist purposes. They become barbed skewers on the grill of the imagination...The good news is that Gil Helmick...marks his re-emergence into the word-spattered fray. This time Gil has enlisted a trusty group of musical improvisers to accompany his adventurous strides into the surreality of the 21st Century. The age of Digital Surrealism has arrived."

-Pat Nolan, review of Wounded by Zen

Why I love NEPA installment #1

noreply@blogger.com (Erin L. Delaney) — Mon, 18 May 2009 17:14:00 +0000

Why I love NEPA: Bat Shit Crazy People!

Like Stanley Carter who decided to make himself at home in Plains, PA: http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/28409695/

Keith Gilman: Father's Day

noreply@blogger.com (Erin L. Delaney) — Wed, 13 May 2009 15:08:00 +0000

Louis Kline might be out of the Philadelphia Police force, but he’s not out of the P.I. business. In “Father’s Day,” the first novel competition winner from St. Martin’s Press and Private Eye Writers of America, author Keith Gilman takes us through the dark journey of a former cop.

Lou’s taken up residence and solace in the Pocono Mountains after his friend and fellow officer, Sam Blackwell, allegedly committed suicide and his own mother had been brutally assaulted and killed in her row home in West Philadelphia. These story kick-starters force Lou to return to the City of Brotherly Love to confront his past and track down Blackwell’s missing daughter.

“They both had daughters, and they both put the uniform on everyday knowing it could be their last. If one of them ‘bit the dust,’ Sam would say, the other one would keep the girls safe. They’d made a promise to each other, like the oath they’d taken to the City of Philadelphia, and if nothing else, Lou was as good as his word.” And to Lou’s surprise, as the story unfolds, he discovers that the missing 20-something Carol Ann is not an innocent and scared girl.

Lou finds that Carol Ann is actually a troubled runaway who has not only hopped in bed with drugs but also with a bad boy boyfriend and an even tougher crowd. Even more, Lou’s former love interest, Carol Ann’s mother, Sarah, has a new husband, Vince Trafficante. That crook Vince, who owns a sleazy massage parlor where the missing girl last worked, may just be the clue as to where Carol Ann is located.

While Gilman lays out the story of Carol Ann, he doesn’t let the reader forget about Lou’s own daughter, Maggie, who defies her mother in order to live with Lou. Throughout the novel, Maggie is the device through which Gilman exposes Lou’s strength and vulnerability, which gives credence to the emotions behind his deepest fears. Gilman writes, “Talking to his daughter was like doing a puzzle where the pieces kept changing shape. The best he could hope for was to complete the borders.”

Gilman completes those borders in a stunning ending. Lou realizes the connection between himself and Blackwell’s daughter, femme fatale, Carol Ann, while she is sitting at the end of a shotgun barrel. Gilman writes of Lou’s situation, “The words had poured out of him, words that had been locked inside for a long time, words he’d never spoken before, to anyone. […] He heard his own voice coming out in wrenching gasps, his eyes riveted on the gun. In his fear, he somehow conjured an image of his own daughter, one step from the grave, and never having heard these words from her father’s mouth.”

But is Lou’s self honesty enough to save Carol Ann? Is it enough to console Sarah Blackwell, who has some of her own closet skeletons? Is it enough to change Lou’s life forever? Find out by reading about Gilman’s Philadelphia. Be on the lookout for Lou Kline in the future. Gilman’s hardboiled narration, driving dialog, and plot structure is definitely worth a crack at the big screen.

*First Published in the Weekender

Zine Workshop Flyer

noreply@blogger.com (Erin L. Delaney) — Mon, 11 May 2009 22:17:00 +0000

At Paper Kite Press in Kingston/Edwardsville.

Noir-where to be found

noreply@blogger.com (Erin L. Delaney) — Fri, 08 May 2009 21:21:00 +0000

Keith Gilman is one of those authors that most of us envy. His stories have been published in a variety of magazines in the mystery and crime fiction genre, including Thuglit, Demolition, Out of the Gutter Magazine, issue three of The PulpPusher, and many others. With barely any rejections, his first book won an award, he’s got a top of the line, hardworking and friendly editor (Ms. Mystery, Ruth Gavin), and was published at a large publishing company (St. Martins/Minotaur Books) soon after his first novel award.

So why is the author of “Father’s Day” so angry?

April 28: It was Gilman’s book opening, and I had the chance to interview him at Barnes and Noble on Public Square in Wilkes-Barre. He said, “After a day like today, it can only get better.”
Prior to the interview, I took a look around the store hoping to spy some fancy noir displays while he’d been on the phone in the back of the Barnes and Nobles arguing with his publisher on why they didn’t supply copies of his book to local bookstores for the opening. When I found out the news, I made a few calls to local stores, and there seemed to be no copy anywhere in the Wyoming Valley. So I decided to do some private-eye detection of my own. I found that other than Anthology Bookstore in Scranton, the closest copy for purchase on opening day was in a suburb of Philadelphia.

It just seemed ridiculous that like many other writers, Gilman had worked his way up to this moment, spending two years on writing the book for the one great bulls eye to be such a misfire. He’d shopped his book around for quite some time with a lot of promising inquiries. He’d went through the process time after time with publishers asking to see the first chapter, then the first 100 pages, and they’d even asked for the entire book. But of course, they wanted to know what else he had published in journals or magazines. So after going back to the desk and hammering out a dozen short stories, he surprisingly (and rarely, for most of us writers) received acceptance letters within mere months, and then he returned his efforts back to his novel.

With the proper street cred, Gilman had a real buyer in no time, and within one more year, St. Martin’s/Minotaur Books published his novel.

But there we were, sitting in the cafe of a local bookstore that had no signs of “Father’s Day” anywhere. If it was some unknown indie publication, this might be an excusable mistake but not acceptable from a major publisher like St. Martin’s. It appears that Gilman is proof that the warm and cozy desk job that we all expected after publication appears to be the cold, hard face of the dangerous city beat. With an almost red-eyed look, Gilman looked me directly in the face and said, “I climbed the corporate ladder with Borders, Barnes and Noble and St. Martins, and I didn’t get that far. I’m a very angry guy. And you can quote me on that.”

But isn’t the legwork of self-promotion a necessity these days? Gilman is aware that writers entering the publishing world have to promote if they’ve got an agent, an editor and a large publishing house. But the idea that an ordinary writer today living his life with a family and more than one job can rely on a publishing company to have your back is sadly mistaken.

“I’ve got a full-time job, a part-time job, family obligations, and now on top of that with the little spare time that I actually have to write, I have to spend it promoting my book. First of all, I’m a cop. I’m attempting to be a writer,” said Gillman, who lives in Clarks Summit and works three days a week as a policeman in the Philadelphia suburbs. “Now all of the sudden, I’ve got to be a marketer and a promoter? It’s ridiculous. How much of the creative progress is being lost by writers who now have to market their own stuff? If you have to spend half your energy marketing, that’s new books and energy just going right down the drain.”

So now Gilman like many others have turned to places like Facebook as a main means of promotion for their work. Gilman said, “I was creating a buzz for the book. A lot of people were contacting me. I got online this morning, and there was a posting on my Facebook page by Derrick Nikita that said ‘Happy Father’s Day, Gilman,’ which was nice. I’m also getting reviewed. Things are happening. But if somebody walks into a bookstore and says, ‘I want to buy Gilman’s book,’ they don’t have it.”

And that’s still the case in some local bookstores.

As of April 29, the day after Gilman’s opening, a Wilkes-Barre Arena Hub Barnes and Noble employee told me they had copies. And on June 19, the Arena Hub Barnes and Noble will have Gilman there to participate in their authors’ day Father’s Day Weekend, sponsored by WVIA. Gilman will be interviewed on the radio that day at 11:30 a.m.

Barnes and Noble on South Main had “none in store, but [have] 10 on order as of May 2, and the copies will arrive on Thursday this week.”

On June 20, Gilman is scheduled for a signing at Borders in Dickson City, but the store is still waiting for copies from the publisher. When I asked if it was normal for a copy to take so long to get in store, the rep said that the computer has “No street date listed.” He also said the computer “just states that the arrival time is May, 2009” and that I should “check back in a couple weeks.”

Thanks to our local indie booksellers, our authors can be assured that they will be well taken care of in our area, as Anthology Bookstore now has only two copies. April 28, when the “Father’s Day” was debuted in the area, copies were prominently displayed in Anthology’s store. Any day Andrea Talarico, the store’s owner, expects the next shipment. She says, “We’ll have a sizable number in that shipment, because we do expect them to sell well.” On May 30, Gilman will be proudly signing his books in her store.

*First published in the Weekender

A cool challenge for the artistically inclined

noreply@blogger.com (Erin L. Delaney) — Thu, 30 Apr 2009 18:07:00 +0000

What a cool challenge. Naked Post is asking for mail without an envelope.

Look at the ad on the top of this page: http://www.strutsgallery.ca/ You'll see the image below. I've reposted the image here, but it's hard to see the small text.

In stitches (for Aaron)

noreply@blogger.com (Erin L. Delaney) — Sun, 26 Apr 2009 00:35:00 +0000

When tattoos sag

and we have to help each other

cross the street

it will be romantic

keeping each other in stitches

taking up thread and needle

just to sew up our split sides.

I'm teaching a workshop for teens- DIY: On Assignment

noreply@blogger.com (Erin L. Delaney) — Sat, 25 Apr 2009 01:08:00 +0000

DIY: On Assignment
A Summer Writing Workshop for Teens
July 13 - 17th, 9 a.m. - noon
at Paper Kite Press Studio & Gallery
443 Main Street • Kingston, PA
http://wordpainting.com/

Got a lot of writing ideas, but can't find a place to publish? Why not cook up a scheme to put together your own underground publication! During this one week workshop, students will develop the creative journalism elements that it takes to create and publish a DIY Zine. Students will write mastheads, construct entertaining feature stories, and conduct their own interviews while tapping into their creative side with artistic layouts and collage.

Cost for the week is $150 and includes supplies.
Registration in advance is a must.
Call 570-328-8658 for details, or email us at
wordpainting@comcast.net

About the Instructor

Erin Delaney is a Weekender Columnist, a Luzerne County Community College English Instructor, and an avid hiker and traveler. She has also been published by Poems Against War, Poetry-in-Transit, and has performed her work all over the Wyoming Valley and at various NYC venues. Her human interest journalism can be seen in The Philadelphia City Paper, The Diamond City/Electric City, as well as various cities via the national network of Woman's Newspapers and online at her website: http://erindelaney.blogspot.com/. She is currently preparing to cook dinner indoors without burning the bottom of the pan.

Benefits for Charlotte

noreply@blogger.com (Erin L. Delaney) — Sat, 25 Apr 2009 00:41:00 +0000

Most residents don’t think of their hometowns in the Wyoming Valley as a haven for creativity, and they would be surprised to know that the writing community is filled with a variety of talent and events to choose from weekly. But the most amazing part about these brilliant Wyoming Valley writers and artists is that they take an active part in expanding the consciousness of our area. Recently, our local artists are coming together to benefit someone extraordinary.

Charlotte Lewis is a brilliant and dynamic local poetess who makes meaningful noise with her words. Her punk rock desire for travelling across the country allows her to return with eerie gypsy tunes on her fiddle and tales of a captivating America still filled with the magic of rain beating against the pavement, strangers muffled chatter, crickets chirping, the wind in the redwoods and railroads thundering. Of Charlotte’s storytelling, James Crane writes that her “words [are] reminiscent of dreams, sadness, and empowerment.”

Recently, however Charlotte was in a bicycle accident that had left her the intensive care unit in the hospital. Miraculously on Easter, Charlotte awoke from a chemically-induced coma and has been improving enough to move her to a neuro-trauma unit to begin rehabilitation.

Charlotte’s sister writes to friends on Facebook to update everyone on Charlotte’s status. A few days ago she wrote, “We are really amazed that she is progressing so quickly. But we want to stress that this process will take weeks. She has now managed to sit up and talk with people, with both eyes open and (somewhat) focused. My family said she was laughing and smiling at the last visit with her, and she keeps saying how amazed and thankful she is to everyone who is organizing, praying and pulling for her. She's really happily overwhelmed.”

To show their love for Charlotte, friends have begun planning ways to aid Charlotte with the costs of her medical and living expenses.

One of the bigger advertised events is on April 24th. Charlotte’s sister, Lizzie, is coordinating the international movement of cyclists, Critical Mass, to promote awareness for Charlotte’s accident. Anyone who wants to ride can meet at 6pm at the Courthouse in Scranton. Also, Stacy G. from Outrageous on Center Street in Scranton has made bicycle CHARm necklaces (CHAR(lotte)m) with a Charlotte picture tag. They are now on sale at Outrageous.

On Sunday, April 26th at 5pm Anthology is hosting a benefit show at the Vintage Theater at 222 Wyoming Ave. in downtown Scranton. The Vintage Theater has hosted many great arts events in the past such as community film project screenings, improv shows, and local bands. Conor O'Brien, the proprietor has booked some great bands such as Tigers Jaw and The Ginger Ales and the Bracken Theater will be performing a short comedy. Andrea Talarico, owner of Anthology is in charge of providing such as area favorites James Crane, Jennifer Hill-Kaucher, Eric Wilson, Jim Warner, and Mike Ambrose. The entrance fee for the event is $5.

Other benefits include:

Sunday, May 3: Justin, A.K.A. Simo will host a Benefit Show at the Judge n' Jury and the baker for Eden Cafe has decided to donate all of her proceeds from this month to Charlotte's recovery.

Since Charlotte's still very cloudy, I'd like it when she finally wakes up from her haze to know what went on in the world when she was missed. So I've also been collecting letters for her. If you feel compelled to share some motivational words with her email me for the address information.

There are lots more benefits springing up! Be there and show your writerly community spirit.

*First Published in The Weekender

FINAL NOTE:

What's even more amazing is that the amount of cards Charlotte received was overwhelming! Cards came from Clinton, Arkansas; Portland, Oregon; Butler, New Jersey; Yuon, Oklahoma; Lancaster, PA; Prospect Park, PA; North Haven, CT; Flowermound, TX; Montgomery Village, Maryland; Midway, Utah; Granite Qry, North Carolina; Danville, Kentucky; Colquitt, Georgia; Virginia Beach, Virginia; Coldwater, Michigan; and others as far away as Utrecht, Germany! And a special thanks to the girls on A Passion for Letter Writing, and everyone at 365 Letters, 365 Days of Goodness, and http://www.wishuponahero.com/. Thank you so much for showing your spirit and love!

noreply@blogger.com (Erin L. Delaney) — Thu, 16 Apr 2009 21:25:00 +0000

I am teaching a creative writing summer workshop and would love your input. I remember "back in the day" when punk shows were flooded with DIY writers who walked around handing out or selling their zines for a buck. But that was back in the late 90s. Where have zines gone since then? I'd love to get your feedback to help me plan out my workshop.

Gimme the skinny on Fan Zines. Got a favorite? Got one that you absolutely hate? What's the best out-of-print zine? What's the best new zine? What is the most popular topic for zines now? Why is it your favorite/hated? What elements make a great zine? Interviews, features, free music, etc? What are the specifics? What's new?

Drop me a line about it.

Remembering Snail Mail

noreply@blogger.com (Erin L. Delaney) — Sat, 11 Apr 2009 23:42:00 +0000

SECTION UPDATE!!
Wendy from A Passion for Letter Writing and a handful of her readers have begun a correspondence with me based on Wendy's writing prompt called Let's Freak Someone Out!

I received 5 letters: Bonnie from Pittsburgh PA, Lisa from Flower Mound TX, Danielle from Rochester NY, Ilona from Newport RI, and Monica from Chicago IL. Each letter was more exciting than the last. Thank you for the amazing letters. I'll be getting back to you all soon.

In this throwaway world, do you even remember the last time you actually got something in the mail that was worth keeping? Something that wasn’t a bill? Something that wasn’t a pre-scripted card? When was the last time you actually scripted or received a letter? Not a business letter such as a cover letter for a job, but a hand-written cursive letter just discussing or contemplating the day’s events without fear of judgment?

For most of us, we might recall that we had a pen pal in elementary or middle school. I personally remember for over a year, I wrote to another girl my age that was living in England. While, I’d lost contact with her in my teens, especially after learning to drive, I still kept all of her letters in a box under my bed. Last fall during a cleaning spree, I pried open the box of memories and rediscovered them. As I read through each of the letters, I was flooded in memory. While her letters took almost a month to arrive, as soon as I mailed mine, I would check the mailbox excitedly for her response in the red white and blue international envelope with the words “Par Avion Air Mail” strewn across the front near my scribbled name. I recall once, after the lengthy correspondence, I received a phone call from her. We talked for approximately 2- 5 minutes and then her phone card ran out. It was one of the most exciting moments of my life. It was more wonderful than any of the other random memorabilia (blank concert wristbands, photographs of strangers, the dateless dried flower) that remained forgotten inside the box.

Over the last month, I have been reading “Love in the Time of Cholera.” The majority of the important correspondence appears in letter form between the two main characters. Suddenly, I had the striking realization that letter writing had become a lost art form. Since the only excitement in the post office box is a paycheck (as long as you don’t have direct deposit) and the hopes of a random postcard leave you feeling quite depressed since you aren’t the one on vacation, in an effort to regain enjoyment of opening the post box, I have begun corresponding. Now my words are inspired by the gentleman I write who lives in Kingston, a mere 15-minute drive from my home.

I began sending and receiving letters almost three months ago. This might be seen as ridiculous considering the more simple forms of communication: phone call, email, Facebook, MySpace, text messaging, and meeting in person. However, pre-generated text and email is easily disposed of, phone conversations are faceless communications, and I am convinced that the importance of words is lost to the ease of innovation and business side of communication. So while the “snail mail” pace of communication is a laughable amount of time considering the day or two it takes the postman to hand over my thoughts from days prior, there is just something about the magic of the letter that I keep close to my heart. It may be the swirls and swooshes that slow the mind when I make pen strokes that force me to consider spelling, word choice, and most importantly, a deep thought or two, because those things that are easily brushed over with spell checks, networking business letter structures, and the stiffly blocked fonts of computer programs. It may also just be the ever-so-rare excitement of receiving a letter.

No matter what the reason, this letter writing must continue. Receiving a handwritten letter is reliant upon a meager.43 cent stamp. And so, I am giving all writers a call to action. Hunter S. Thompson’s books did not take off until after the Fear and Loathing film. Many were published posthumously after carbon copies of every letter Thompson ever wrote were found, thus publishers discovered that the author had major talent beyond journalism. So this week, write one letter to someone and mail it from your local post office. Write a friend, pick a name out of the white pages (that’s the phonebook for you who use 555-1212 or 411 too often), or even write yourself a letter under a different name. Write the letter in your own handwriting and pour out your day, your heart, your soul, your hopes, your beliefs, and your dreams. Try writing more than one page and staying on topic.

*Published in The Weekender

It’s the thought that counts

noreply@blogger.com (Erin L. Delaney) — Tue, 07 Apr 2009 04:29:00 +0000

The first time that I’d ever seriously attempted a novel. It was around 2002 and I was at Mansfield University completing my undergrad studies. My novel writing class had been building on studying formatting and narrative patterns throughout the semester. We’d been mainly supplementing “How to Write a Damn Good Novel” by James N. Frey with a few different specific novel forms.

After some inspiring words and some time to write, I came up with a damn good idea: a post-biblical Revelations world ravaged by environmental factors. The three main characters would travel from New York City toward Portland, Oregon in search of the New Jerusalem. Fifty pages into the book, we completed our first group workshop and I got my first feedback. I remembered specifically, my classmate mentioned that the storyline sounded familiar. I took it as a good sign and kept working.

But, during the second group session, the same student suddenly recalled the connection and he exclaimed, “That’s it. Stephen King’s ‘The Stand.’ You ever read it? Cause your story sure sounds awfully familiar.” Now mind you, that year, was controversy in the college community about instructors teaching King in major author courses and masters classes. Call me a literary snob, but I was lost in my literature courses, had a love for Moby Dick and Ralph Waldo Emerson, and wasn’t particularly thrilled about my classmate’s King connection. Of course I had seen the big-name adapted films, “Misery,” “Carrie,” “Kujo,” and of course, “The Shining,” but the only novel I’d read by the master himself was “Thinner,” and I’d only read one-third before quitting. Needless to say, I’d never even heard of “The Stand.”

Some months later while working on the manuscript, I was unable to get that classmate’s feedback out of my mind and I abandoned the topic completely. Then for added stubborn measure, I personally banned all Stephen King from my future reading lists. Strangely, I haven’t actually gotten around to reading or watching “The Stand” to this very day. But, I’ve made my peace with King and I will admit on the record that I actually loved “On Writing.”

In any case, I hadn’t thought of this “Portland-bound” novel memory until last week when I began researching this very column. As both a journalist and a creative writer, it seemed to me that genres like the narrative nonfiction and travel writing appearing in creative journals didn’t appear to be much different than journalistic reporting I’d seen done in major magazines. So, what was the difference in the writing? Was there a major difference? My inquiring mind began to explore the topic.

For two weeks, I’d planned out what I hypothesized were the real distinctions between Journalism and Creative Nonfiction. Then, a few days ago, as I clicked on this month’s Poets and Writer’s magazine online, there, before my eyes, Michael McGregor, journalist and associate professor of nonfiction writing at Portland State University in Oregon, had published a thematically familiar article. However, this time, instead of personally banning Michael McGregor to an unwavering fate similar to Stephen King, my curiosity made me read.

As I continued “Green-Haired Gumshoes or Hidebound Hacks? Creative Nonfiction vs. Journalism,” McGregor’s points on Nonfiction and Journalism unwrapped my mind, polishing it like fine silver, shining brilliantly from one idea to another. He continued by balancing the second-half of the article with inquiries exploring Dinty Moore’s “literary journalism,” and “new” new journalism vs. “old” new journalism, and why journalists get a bad rap amongst creative writers.

Then, McGregor’s ideas fully diverged from my own as he masterfully questioned the validity of Lee Gutkind’s opinions of the Creative Nonfiction genre. Of Gutkind he writes, “In his ‘Godfather’ essay Gutkind stresses, too, that ‘creative nonfiction writers must always work as hard as necessary to be true to the facts.’ But while making vague statements about the need to avoid ‘a loss in substance, integrity, or verifiable facts’ when using story to enliven an otherwise journalistic account, he never defines these terms or tells us where the ‘substance’ and ‘facts’ come from. He condemns outright inventions such as making up ‘saucy dialogue’ to improve a story, calling them ‘inexcusable laziness,’ but he never suggests how much research, or what kind, a ‘true’ nonfiction account requires.”

It appears that McGregor added a spin to things as he also interestingly explored Craft vs. Art in Journalism. He writes, “What distinguishes [new journalists] from traditional journalists is that they trust their perceptions, accept that objectivity is a myth, and work hard to communicate the human dimensions of their subjects by using storytelling techniques—a narrative approach, a distinctive voice, scenes and dialogue and setting. What sets them apart from those who insist on words like creative and art is that they're reporters and researchers first. Gumshoes and craftsmen.”

In the end, it appears that whether McGregor, King, or I had similar ideas, the parallels didn’t matter. There is no doubt that from each of our unique life experiences and world views if each of us had been asked to create a story from the same exact writing topic, different papers would surely be produced. So, when it comes down to ideas, it truly is the thought that counts.

*First published in The Weekender 4-8-09

Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness

noreply@blogger.com (Erin L. Delaney) — Mon, 06 Apr 2009 19:37:00 +0000

“Aren’t some of us so smitten with the American dream that we have become brainwashed into believing that our sole purpose on this earth is to be happy?” writes Eric G. Wilson. In his book “Against Happiness,” Wilson explains that America’s search for ultimate satisfaction is destroying the pensiveness that creates extraordinary moments in our otherwise ordinary lives.

Amongst normal daily life filled with global apocalyptic visions, fears of global warming and terrorism, as well as obsessions with keeping cool and acting correctly in social situations, it seems that there is not much time to feel sad.

However, the apathy, lethargy, and emotionless feelings associated with depression is still a real clinical designation determined by doctors and thought to be most effectively cured by medications. Wilson explains that melancholia, a deep longing and a “turbulence of the heart that results in an active questioning of the status quo” is commonly misdiagnosed by doctors as the depressive disorder. He writes, “Our culture seems to confuse these two and thus treat melancholia as an aberrant state, a vile threat to our pervasive notions of happiness — happiness as immediate gratification, happiness as superficial comfort, happiness as static contentment. […] We wonder if the wide array of antidepressants will one day make sweet sorrow a thing of the past.”

However, as a result of melancholia, the arts and many other innovations have blossomed in our society throughout history. Even in a sunrise and a sunset, light leads to darkness, darkness to light. In this way, melancholia has led the arts to become a vehicle for accepting and changing the world. Songs like “Love will Tear us Apart” by Joy Division, “Glad to be Unhappy” by the Mamas and the Papas, “Lithium” by Nirvana and even an entire album of melancholia by Smashing Pumpkins aptly titled “Melancholy and the Infinite Sadness” allow for expressing the brilliance of a gloomy state of mind.

However, Wilson explains that because society won’t comfortably express those pensive emotions without shame or fear, the effect of annihilating sadness becomes a major social and evolutionary issue. He writes, “Another threat, perhaps as dangerous as the most apocalyptic of concerns. We are possibly not far away from eradiating a major cultural force, a serious inspiration to invention, the muse behind much art and poetry and music. We are wantonly hankering to rid the world of numerous ideas and visions, multitudinous innovations and meditations.”

So, while thinking happy thoughts may be well and good for a cartoon Disney character, what does Wilson surmise about amusement overshadowing real life? Wilson brilliantly explains that “to foster a society of total happiness is to concoct a culture of fear. Suffering the gloom, inevitable as breath, we must further accept this fact that the world hates: we are forever incomplete, but fragments of some ungraspable whole. But this extension into the abyss is also our salvation. To be but a fragment is always to strive for something beyond oneself. This striving is always an act of freedom.”

And freedom is just what our forefathers had hoped we’d accomplish.

*First Published in The Weekender: see the original version here- http://www.theweekender.com/books/Life__liberty_and_the_pursuit_of_happiness_03-31-2009.html

I’m just not into this book

noreply@blogger.com (Erin L. Delaney) — Mon, 16 Mar 2009 21:44:00 +0000

While I'm never much in the mood for extreme feminist rants, "He's just not that into you" has lead me to write this book review.

I'm just not into this book

Ladies, settling for less? Can’t figure out why the selfish, ego maniacal, mentally, emotionally, and/or physically abusive, jobless, carless, jealous, bootie callin’ gambling addict, only gives you a half-assed “sorry” when he doesn’t call? With the extreme popularity of the film, “He’s Just Not That Into You,” comes a terribly useless resurgence of the bestselling book of the same title by Greg Behrendt and Liz Tuccillo who examine all the different ways in which men show you that they don’t like you.

In “He’s just not that into you,” instead of telling women to use their brains so they can learn and grow from past relationship mistakes, women can instead, pick up Greg and Liz’s book for $14.99 and grieve into its pages like the overemotional teen audience the book was truly meant for, hoping to learn some “secret way to change” themselves. The authors even have a friendly way of formatting the book to facilitate a single woman’s emotional collapse by using a terribly dim-witted question such as this one from Nikki: “Dear Greg, This is dumb. I know you’re not supposed to call guys, but I call guys all the time because I don’t care! I don’t want to play games. I do whatever I want! I’ve called guys tons of times. You’re such a square, Greg. Why do you think we can’t call guys and ask them out?”

This inquiry is followed by Greg’s common sense belittling answer to aid emotionally battered Nikki, who is now more likely in need of a therapist at this point, Greg responds, “Because we don’t like it. I didn’t make the rules and I might not even agree with them. Please don’t be mad at me, Nikki. I’m not advocating that women go back to the Stone Age. I just think you might want to be realistic in how capable you are of changing the primordial impulses that drive all of human nature. / Or maybe you’re the chosen one.”

After this response, it appears that maybe it’s just that Greg just wants his cut of the book sales percentage and so he’s just not that into your opinions, Nikki. Hence the sea-sick repetition of the phrase, “He’s just not that into you,” over and over ad nauseam.

So, instead of rebuilding women’s feelings of self-worth, boundaries, and tolerance in confidence boosting chapters, “He’s just not that into you” instead preys on the emotions of millions of women while breeding more subpar relationship skills and self-esteem issues. Unfortunately for love sick readers, this book doesn’t once urge them to first set up personal goals and a sound life direction to help stop them from lowering their personal standards, grow a set of self-confident ovaries, and just keep on keepin’ on and instead on a global scale, the book’s lazy style promotes coffee table and toilet reading in both genders (and those in between) instead of enlightening readers with real substance while allowing certain women the ability to keep obsessing over the ways they could bag and tag themselves a husband.

Furthermore, this bestseller not only fails women by truly setting them back into the days before the Seneca Falls Convention with its dumbed down linguistics, but is just one of the ways that today’s industry and society subverts women’s minds into thinking that they need some crappy misogynistic advice about something they could have resolved personally by just becoming an active participant in their own life, which fully embarrasses the hard working efforts of Betsy Ross, Elizabeth Cady Stanton, and Margaret Fuller.

*First published in The Weekender

New Poem "On The Square"

noreply@blogger.com (Erin L. Delaney) — Wed, 25 Feb 2009 21:32:00 +0000

On the Square:
Wilkes-Barre, PA 2007

Amidst the chirping of walking signals
and the stench of transit exhaust,
they wait on rectangular benches
exposing the unpolished raw wood
with chipped red paint.
Among the working class worn down faces,
a hunched woman pushes a handcart
full of bags.
She stretches her arms
from the pockets of her
billowy woolen skirt and doesn’t
break a sweat in the July sun
as she reaches into a garbage bin
for recyclable cans.
Here,
everything isn’t on square,
cigarette butts are scraped
away like the forgotten dangers of cancer
men and women in business attire
eyeball the scene
fill their arms with lunch bags
and sneak back to their
constipated cubicles
avoiding reality
without a question mark arch in their spines.

The Talking Heads and How Liberation is the Emoticon of the Day

noreply@blogger.com (Erin L. Delaney) — Wed, 04 Feb 2009 05:37:00 +0000

You know what's amazing about today?

I've had this epiphany over the last few days and I realized that I have been on this downward slope with my "reading for pleasure" reading for quite a long time. Of course I must mention that I do continue to read books for my bi-weekly reviews in the Weekender. While many suprise me as being quite good, what I really mean is that I've been lacking the ability to read a book for the pure enjoyment of being pulled into a story...I've been to busy taking critical thinking notes, side notes, underlines, circles, or copying quotations.

On that note, the last significant book that I read for myself (not to review, but for actual personal pleasure) was "Memoirs of a Geisha." Other than that, I also remember really digging into books (such as "The Motorcycle Diaries" and "Reading Lolita in Tehran," some Hunter S. Thompson, and others) back in '06 when I had free time to read on the Appalachian Trail. Before that, I honestly draw a blank.

More recently, I've been hanging with one of my closest non-collegiate friends whose book-related occupation and general enjoyment of the written word, makes him an avid and extensive reader. On Sunday, we had a discussion about books, and I remember asking him what his favorite was. After a good thoughtful pause, and my encouragement to give a top 5 instead of narrowing his decision to only one book, he mentioned an amazing series of great classics. All of which I probably should have read at some place in my educational past, but I realized, I had read none of them.

When I got home, I thought about his reply in more depth. And I couldn't stop fixating on the fact that as a writer, educator, and journalist, my lack of time spent in the book world was painful as opposed to my happy-go-lucky lazy television/film attention span and whirlwind schedule. I remembered that as a teenager, I spent every free minute writing or reading. During summers, I could tackle a 400-page book between 2 or 3 days, sometimes less. Albeit without job responsibilities, this can make reading all day a lot easier, but the point was that I was voracious, a high-speed metabolism for the mind.

So what I really want to know is what has really changed about me that has lead to my gorged tryptophan reading schedule? Is it the lack of time or life's constant distractions that have ripped me from the pages? A fuller, and more "adult" life that no longer needs a fictional world to escape to? Or maybe I've just traded in my interests and now I've gained a general disinterest in reading?

Truly, I just think that as you gain years, life has a slow and sneaky way of distracting you from what you truly love until one day you have a revelation much like this blogger rant. Hopefully, you get to an ah-ha moment before you forget your true happiness completely otherwise, I'd imagine you could wake up one day singing this Talking Heads tune, "And you may say to yourself: This is not my beautiful house. This is not my beautiful wife. And you may ask yourself: My god, what have I done? Letting the days go by..."

So, to avoid the "same as it ever was," I'd been trying to dig into this 434 page beauty (aka "Love in the Time of Cholera" by Gabriel Garcia Marquez ) at my reader friend's suggestion for the past two to three weeks! I'd only read 40-50 pages by the Sunday of our discussion and the beginning of my monumental thoughts.

Today was different. I turned off the computer, blacked out the TV, sat in my rocker, and read almost 100 pages of Marquez. And I must say, brain liberation is a much more delectable taste than the unsatisfying mental leftovers of tryptophan-filled stagnancy.

*Published in The Weekender

Interested in your input

noreply@blogger.com (Erin L. Delaney) — Mon, 02 Feb 2009 05:32:00 +0000

I am currently working on two new articles and I need your input.

In your opinion, which bands write the best lyrics? What songs are the best lyrically? What do you think that can writers learn from musicians? For those of you in bands... What would you say to writers? What do you think writers can take from your music or lyrics? Thanks! Send me a list of them with your opinions at erin.delaney@yahoo.com.

Secondly, Valentine's Day is closely arriving. What do you think about love poetry? Ever use any or write any to "get" or dissuade the opposite sex? Have any writers in mind that stand out when it comes to love poems/ maybe a top 10? What do you think about Valentine's Day cards and their poems inside? Ever make a mix tape for your lover? What songs/bands did you use? Send me names of songs/bands and authors/poems that you find to be the best for Valentine's day... or Anti-Valentine's day.

Let me know what you think. Drop me a line. erin.delaney@yahoo.com or post your opinions here!

~E

ADDITION:

THANK YOU EVERYONE FOR THE AMAZING AMOUNT OF GREAT FEEDBACK!

I'll be using the Valentine's related topic in my Weekender Column "On the Writers Block," for the February 11th publication. The second article about writers and musicians will be out on February 18th.

Also, because of the high number of replies, I'll be compiling everyone's responses here for everyone to read over the next week. Keep checking back to see your input posted here.

"america, to Allen" gets Published

noreply@blogger.com (Erin L. Delaney) — Thu, 15 Jan 2009 17:13:00 +0000

I recently received an acceptance email from Gregg Mosson at Poems Against War. The current issue "Poems Against War: Ars Poetica" throughout 2009, features poets Antler, Tony Hoagland, Reginald Harris, Patric Pepper, and musician Ryan Harvey. My poem "America, to Allen" will be published in the 2010 issue titled, "Poems Against War: Bending Toward Justice." To check out the details and read my an excerpt of the poem, read on below. Best wishes for this magical new year!

Here's an excerpt (I'm still working on the new format):

"Remember the city that never sleeps?
It’s up all night watching the whorehouse of late night tv
greasing our stomachs with takeout corporate america
pushing for “shock and awe’s” total destruction
so our reality tv programming is real and so we pay over $2.00 for a gallon of gas
to the pimp of the white house
while begging for extra war footage like a spam commercial.
More please."

A triforce of revelations and realizations...

noreply@blogger.com (Erin L. Delaney) — Wed, 07 Jan 2009 01:16:00 +0000

Over the last few days I have asked myself questions about my life and place in this crazy universe, to which I had a revelation. And I actually answered myself intelligently with just a twist of lime...(er... wisdom).

Ah ha! Oh wise boddhisattva, Gin and Tonic: To what do I owe this meeting, this occasion? To what do I owe this blinding light of truth upon my brow and this tasty bubbling upon my lips? To whom do I owe this overly gruesome bar tab? Ouch.

Just kidding folks. I only had two that night at Alan's bar, "Nowhere Special."

I have had some new realizations over the last few days and strangely enough the stars are aligned today in my favor. The triforce of my life coming together like the Legend of Zelda.

I was six when the original 1986 video game came out for Nintendo. I played that game everyday until I had it beat. I followed the story by walking and talking with villagers. I was fully invested in Link's mission. When the game ended, I was so involved in the game's plot line that I felt like it wasn't just Link's triumph, but my own.

Strangely enough, that's what I feel is missing from many of our lives. That motivation. That drive. That childlike determination. That pure 100% extract of living life for fun. I didn't play that game because I was told that I had to do it. I did it for fun.

And then I think about my teens. I listened to classic rock (like the Doors). I read and wrote poetry constantly. I emulated my predecessors. I started going to readings at Cafe Metropolis in the Sterling Hotel.

Then, punk rock entered my life and my berkenstocks and hippie skirts were never the same again. My soul expanded. I lived life to the fullest. Travelling, imbibing music, and enjoying the company of friends. I read everything I could get my hands on. I became a vegetarian.

Before I left for college, I wardrobed in patchwork dresses. I started doing yoga, meditating, and singing traditional Hindi music. I made personal vows to see the country of my obsessions in person. I made promises of friendship and love like in Stand by Me.

In college, I dove in. I joined every club I could. I got involved in politics and protests. I took all those childhood piano lessons to good use and tried my hand at rock and roll keyboards. I studied abroad. I devoured books and reassembled critical papers. I bled creative writing. I was devoted to American Transcendentalists, mysticism, nature writing, and British Literature. College Profs and classmates were family (thanks for that song, H2O).

It was during those moments that I was truly living my own life, my way. It was simple. Fun. Every moment meant something magical. Like the sunset over a beach. The first time you got your own apartment. The moments you were fearless. Where words were verbs of experience.

Those times when caring and being real to real people surpassed the necessity for networking skills.

Cause nowadays it's easy to get cynical, bitter, angry, and wonder why, while being drown in responsibilities. It's easy to forget who you really are. It's easy to forget that you once believed in every word of it. That makes it easy to forget what you are doing here in the first place. Easy to be fall into the comfortable folds of everyday life.

But, not anymore. Not this year. Call it a resolution, call it a revelation, call it a calling. I'm calling it a revolution. That's how life should always be. That's my life from now on in 2009. My light at the end of the tunnel is calling to me...and I'm coming back around to take my destiny by force.

Until next time,

Erin

Where writer's live

noreply@blogger.com (Erin L. Delaney) — Tue, 06 Jan 2009 15:59:00 +0000

According to Time Magazine, "How Writer's Live," half of American writer's live in New York City. Where do the rest of us live?

Add a comment to this message and tell everyone where you are at?

1,2,3...Go!

Appalachian Trail Hikers: The Ultimate Blue Blaze

noreply@blogger.com (Erin L. Delaney) — Wed, 31 Dec 2008 20:29:00 +0000

The Traditional Appalachian Trail is 2176 miles long and stretches from Springer Mountain in Georgia to Mt. Katahdin in Maine.

But now AT thru-hikers, you'll be happy to know that the Appalachian Trail just got about 836 miles shorter and 5 months and 11 days faster to hike with the walking directions supplied by Google Maps. Sure you may miss all those great trails and white blazes, but you avoid all those terribly bothersome mountains and you especially sidestep those extra expenses on toll roads.

Driving Directions for the Appalachian Trail (Click here, yellow blazers)

View Larger Map

View Larger Map

Sum it up in Six

noreply@blogger.com (Erin L. Delaney) — Tue, 30 Dec 2008 15:13:00 +0000

Words have power. They contain a multitude of meanings as well as positive and negative connotations. So when you read any body of writing, especially a poem, each word is specifically chosen by the writer to take into account those layers. But as new trends in technology speed up the attention spans of modern society, like bands cycling through our radios and New Year’s Eve drinks going through our bladders, creative writing must also be quickly evolving.

First, to see where the trend is headed, let’s take a look at some old and new writing based on being succinct.

Flash fiction is a short story with a brief word count, usually between 250 and 1,000 words. Some micro-fiction, or nano-fictions, are even shorter, containing specific amounts of words, such as a “Drabble” (100 words) or a “69er” (69 words). The limited word usage allows for the writer to imply certain elements within the story. Some flash fiction publications are trying to infuse the six-word memoir into their genre.

The epitaph, a statement that epitomizes a period of the past or a deceased person, can tell about a life in a concise way. For example, Emily Dickinson’s tombstone reads, “Called Back,” Jack London’s states, “The Stone the Builders Rejected” and Dean Martin’s states, “Everybody Loves Somebody Sometime.” Each phrase creates a simple and distinct characteristic element about the person’s life that they are commemorating.

Now, take a look at the traditional haiku. Because of its brevity, it works on using specific words and rhythm. The first line has five beats, the second has seven and the third line has five. The poem itself should raise larger questions to the reader than the first read-over, such as this traditional haiku by Basho: “On New Year’s Day/ each thought a loneliness/ as winter dusk descends.” It can be seen as a sad poem, as a solitary quietness or maybe Basho just knows that champagne-induced mind-throbbing hangovers don’t always make for a pleasant New Year’s Day. Similarly, here is a haiku containing the same traditional rhythms with a modern twist: “Sex in the City / Sarah Jessica Parker / We don’t need more puns.”

Now, what if you could only use six words to describe your entire life?

Whether it’s known as the “American Haiku,” according to The New Yorker and NPR, or called flash fiction or epitaphs, the Six-Word Memoir is the newest trend in writing. This new style is quite possibly inspired by Ernest Hemingway’s response to write a full story in six words: “For Sale: baby shoes, never worn.” The concept of the six-word memoir is pretty self-defining, as it is to create a story within the confines of six words. Those words are chosen to allow the reader to think beyond the surface level. For example, referring back to Hemingway’s story, “baby shoes, never worn,” one defining idea might be that the character might have been pregnant but didn’t have the child. Another possible meaning might be that the story could reference the phrase “to know someone is to walk a mile in their shoes.” The character has never had the chance to be a child and is obviously ready to move on with that part of their life (“For Sale”). As a whole, we see many different interpretations can be given for that same simple phrase.

While there are now thousands of Web sites devoted to the six-word form containing six-word fiction, six-word science fiction and six-word illustrated memoir reminiscent of postsecret.com, at www.smithmag.net (named for the notoriously general surname “Smith”), writers have a chance to create and submit their own six-word memoirs with the possibility of online and hardcover publication. Smith Magazine’s site contains thousands of six-word memoirs and numerous six-word projects to get involved in. For example, submit your best inspirational political guidance for President-elect Barack Obama to “Six words for America,” swallow a six-word challenge about your personal food life in “A life in bytes” or bring back emo with “Six-Word Memoirs on Love & Heartbreak.” With Smith Magazine’s first major call for submissions in the traditional vein of six-word memoir, the result has created “Not Quite What I Was Planning” and includes authors such as Dave Eggers’ “Fifteen years since last professional haircut” to Nikki Beland’s “Catholic school back fired. Sin is in!”

So, for 2009, instead of creating ordinary lists about what you accomplished in 2008 followed by more lists on what you hope to complete this year, try writing a six-word memoir to commemorate the special occasions, like New Year’s Eve. On www.sixwordmemoir.com, Emily Gordon writes, “My little red dress; partied out.”

Here are a few samples of my Six-Word Memoir:

• Breathing into me without a touch.

• Born Tuesday, not meek and mild.

• New Years resolutions don’t include you.

• Yes we can! Yes we did!

Check out more of my Six-Word Memoir at Smith Magazine

Seasons Greetings!

noreply@blogger.com (Erin L. Delaney) — Sat, 20 Dec 2008 05:44:00 +0000

Choose Your Holiday

If you'd like it on a lighter note:

If you'd like it on a political note:

And here's an end of year assessment by The Weekender Staff on their top five's of 2008:

http://www.theweekender.com/cover/2008_Weekender_Staff_Picks_12-30-2008.html