workshop deadlines

Lest ye forget, if you're story is being workshopped in session two (Virginia, Khristie, Mark), you have to give copies out to everyone week one. That is, Tuesday week-two-ers need to hand out stories in class this coming Tuesday, Thursday week-tw0-ers need to hand out stories this coming Thursday. And, once again, Alexander-Leake are Tuesday people, Lindquist-Waid, you're Thursday people. And don't forget to read and mark up and write a note to the people going this week, y'all, it's really important.

boring teacher-y stuff

Please check your UMass email (I sent to a class list generated by spire) for reiteration of workshop instructions. Thank you for your attention to this matter.

For those of you who weren't sure what that other picture was of, here's a pretty good hint. And here's another.

p.s. no office hours tomorrow (weds, 9/whateveritis) me sicker still, ugh. Thursday I will be back with bells on!

Musings of a Writer-Actress

Acting was my first love. It was there for me when I was that painfully shy kid in elementary school, it was there for me after I broke up with my first boyfriend, it’s still there for me now as a relatively well-adjusted young adult. Throughout my childhood and majority-of-teenagerdom, I never really had a problem getting cast in the shows I wanted. It sounds terribly jaded of me, but I was one of the few kids in my school that took acting seriously and actually worked to not-suck. However, I find myself in recent months questioning my abilities as an actor. Am I as good as I like to think myself? Am I simply a two-bit character actor? What makes a good actor?

My first semester freshman year at UMass, I was cast in a show. I was the Third Witch in Macbeth. I remember being simply elated. It proved to me I was good, I could act. My acting in shows growing up wasn’t just a case of directors latching onto simply the faintest glimmer, and glimmer alone, of talent. I was good enough to get into a college production. Macbeth turned out to be, quite possibly, one of the best experiences an incoming college freshman could have. I loved everyone in the cast, and it was through the show that I made all of my closest friends.

However, since Macbeth, I haven’t been cast anywhere else. Given, there have only been two shows I’ve auditioned for since then, and I know I can’t be cast in everything, but my worry is still there. Recently, I was called back for a second audition, which any actor will tell you is an awesome thing; it means the director thinks he sees something there. I am not so sure though. I have the faintest suspicion that the only reason I was called back was because the show contained a “creepy” role; Death. I was marvelously creepy in Macbeth. People came up to me afterwards and told me that I honestly scared them. They know I can do creepy. While everyone else was called back for two, three, even four roles, Death was the only one I was called back for. I think I’ve become their go-to girl for creepy. I’ve been reduced to a character actor.

I’m not sure that this should surprise me. I mean, I make certain choices with my appearance that might constitute type-casting. My personality might also lead to this. I’m a regular 19-year-old girl, but I do have an off-beat sense of humour, and I sometimes revel in creeping others out. I know this. I accept this. I had just always thought that my acting abilities spanned a wider range than “that mysterious, creepy, possibly not human” role. Now maybe I think I’m wrong. Maybe creepy is all I can do, and this bothers me.

I want to be an actress. I want to be that lady up on stage that inspires such a reaction out of a crowded room. I want people to laugh when I laugh, to cry when I cry. Am I good enough to inspire such a reaction? Even if I am, I suspect that if I succeed I will become that token famous alternative chick. I’ll be the next Christina Ricci or Fairuza Balk with her tattoos and weird piercings. I think I might have to work on being alright with that, should I ever achieve success.

I did my senior project in high school on acting. I remember my mentor told me something during one of my meetings, something which has always stuck with me. She was working with this kid, an actor, with emotional problems. His emotional problems caused him to be stuck in a rut, acting-wise. It was her job to help him out of it. She told me that you can’t be comfortable as someone else onstage until you’re comfortable with yourself offstage. I still remember that. This might be my problem. I may very well be stuck in this giant Catch-22 cycle. I don’t get cast in anything because I’m not comfortable with my abilities as an actor, and it shows, and since it shows that I’m not comfortable with my abilities as an actor, I don’t get cast.

I’m really not sure what will break this cycle, but I need to find it, or it’s curtains for my acting career (bad pun is bad).

On Feel-good Feelings

A friend once described me as "crying over milk that hasn't even spilled yet". I wish I could protest that that was exaggeration. But it isn't. It is so apt that it is even on my Facebook page. And we all know how important that makes it. We always, as students, when reading a book or a story, whatever it may be, try to figure out something about the author's life to put that piece of writing in some kind of personal context. Here's my personal context: My boyfriend is in basic training for the army reserves, and we have spent 37 minutes on the phone total since he's been gone (nearly 2 months), and I get his letters when Umass mail deigns to deliver them, and he gets mine when there isn't an army-imposed embargo for some delightful reason like, "one of you might get a distressing letter from home and since we're working with live fire we're worried about suicide".

He called Sunday. It's funny how when you have to give an oral report for 10 minutes it seems like eternity, but when you only get 17 minutes to talk to the one person you really want to talk to it goes by in a flash. After we hung up, I was so mad at myself for not asking why his voice sounded kind of different. Why did his voice sound different? I asked myself at 1:30 in the morning and again today starting at 9:30 AM. Is it some cold that the army is ignoring? Will it turn into a flu? Is it pneumonia and he just has no idea? Was he just trying to sound all tough with all of the other soldiers and drill sargeants around him? If it were just him and me would his very deep voice have taken on that sweeter quality he sometimes gets for me? Is it allergies? I have claritin in my purse, but what use is that when you just aren't here?! And I forgot to ask in the letter I already sealed, are you sick? is it just that you're not used to the southern flora? were you trying not to cry?
But last night, amid the worry, amid waiting for the glass of milk to be put a little unevenly on the edge, I was looking up tree kangaroos. I had sent him a national geographic picture of one, asking, "isn't this cute?" Upon my further research into "what exactly are they" I realized that there are ten different kinds, all fabulously adorable. Distractingly so. And for a moment, I had a feel-good feeling. And forgot.

Brian

Have any of you ever not known how to spell a simple word that 2 minutes ago you could have? I was sitting down today thinking of how to spell a word, a simple two syllable word. I sometimes think of a word too hard and double guess myself or focus on the punctuation too deep.

I knew there was something wrong when even the almighty spell-check didn’t even know what I was saying. I sat, thinking. How can I not spell this word…I can say it, I can visually see what it is, an 8 year old could spell it.

Five minutes go by. I have already bitten off 3 nails and hit my keyboard thinking of this word that will be the death of me. “Tollar”, nope. How can I not spell this little word! I will not look it up, I am smarter than this. “Tallar”…fuck you I say to my brain and I start to sweat thinking that this mystery will never be solved. I yell to my roommate the word and ask him how to spell it. He laughs and I slam the door and start to pace. Is this possible? Will my brain ever snap out of this world of thought?

This word is even in one of my favorite movies, I can see the cover, there’s Aragon, Saruman, Froto, Gandalf…how do you spell that word!? I should see it but its not there. “Tohller”…nope.

Wait, hold on. I tell my mind to stop right there at this new thought that struck my head like a smack to the back of my head. I am thinking of ‘Twin’ and ‘Two’ before the word. I am seeing two, or twin, ‘l’s. This is incorrect. Your trying to fool me aren’t you Brian the Brain? “Towar”…close. TOWERS! I yell it at my Family Guy poster in my room.

I hate Brian sometimes.

sea oak, fyi

This delicate Rhodophyte is composed of blades whose margins are deeply lobed giving them an appearance similar to that of an oak leaf.

how far to stray

One of you all emailed to ask me just how far she could stray from the original nonfiction 911 piece - could it be almost totally different? Yes yes yes yes yes. So long as you were moved to write the fiction by the nonfiction you wrote and the stuff it brought up from your gooey chocolate centers, goferit! This photo is an example of someone starting with something and ending up with something very different from what he had planned to shoot.