fwriction

dannygoodman.me: “My family would be leaving soon; we always...

Sat, 26 May 2012 13:51:01 -0400

“My family would be leaving soon; we always ended our Memorial Day vacation before lunch on Monday: on our way out of town, my father would drive to Duryea’s, a small place on Fort Pond Bay next to the railroad station, where lobster rolls were procured and savored on the journey home. I couldn’t imagine the car ride, what we would say to one another, if anything. I held out hope that Liam, in his infinite wisdom and narcissism, would occupy us with uncomfortably carnal stories. Maybe, though, we had already said enough to one another. Maybe we could just move on. Maybe, hopefully, there would be no need for apologies anymore.”

Read the opening excerpt of the novella, Memorial Day, over at Blue Fifth Review

Happy Memorial Day weekend, everyone!

Read the new issue of fwriction : review’s Fiction...

Fri, 25 May 2012 09:46:44 -0400

fwriction : review (Mobile Version)

Google Currents

Read the new issue of fwriction : review’s Fiction Month—Rhys Leyshon Evans’ short story “Lapels”—on your mobile device!

Rhys Leyshon Evans’ song selection—to accompany his short story...

Thu, 24 May 2012 09:42:01 -0400

Rhys Leyshon Evans’ song selection—to accompany his short story “Lapels”—for fwriction : review’s Waffle-Rocking Playlist

“George dropped to his knees, clutching the piece of chalk...

Wed, 23 May 2012 11:52:26 -0400

“George dropped to his knees, clutching the piece of chalk between two gloved fingers. Writing frantically, dirty black hair springing out above the thick wrinkles of his forehead, he worked the chalk against the pavement in complete concentration, pressing down so hard flecks of broken yellow chalk fell to either side onto the street. He wrote in bold letters—BY RUSSELL AND DADDY—then stood up and sucked in a long breath, turned his head sideways to review what he had written and handed the chalk to Russell, watched as his son fumbled with it between his fingers, dropped it and then bent slowly to pick it from the ground.”

Sheldon Lee Compton, “Snapshot ‘87”

George allowed a long breath to ease from his lungs, patience...

Tue, 22 May 2012 09:08:01 -0400

George allowed a long breath to ease from his lungs, patience slipping from inside him in a slow gush. His insides were turning on him now. Moving and shifting energy, an old energy, that nova blast that could create explosion from nearly nothing at all.That wild-wiring that had grabbed him away from the world once before. Only now there was nothing to hold it down. It spun and ran and shifted and did as it pleased.

Sheldon Lee Compton, “Snapshot ‘87”

"My job is to have empathy and curiosity for things that I’ve never done."

Sun, 20 May 2012 21:55:37 -0400

“My job is to have empathy and curiosity for things that I’ve never done.”

- Richard Ford, on writing (via dannygoodman.me)

"The shift brought more depth to the stories, my characters, my own style as a writer. For the first..."

Fri, 18 May 2012 13:16:01 -0400

“The shift brought more depth to the stories, my characters, my own style as a writer. For the first time, I felt my voice had arrived, and, along with it, themes that started to surface, along with an overall direction and purpose for my complete body of work from that time until now.”

- Sheldon Lee Compton—whose short story “Snapshot ‘87” rocks the current issue—as interviewed by Meg Tuite, for fwriction : review’s Writer Squared series

Read the new issue of fwriction : review’s Fiction...

Fri, 18 May 2012 10:12:40 -0400

fwriction : review (Mobile Version)

Google Currents

Read the new issue of fwriction : review’s Fiction Month—Sheldon Lee Compton’s short story “Snapshot ‘87”—on your mobile device!

Bonus: check out Meg Tuite’s interview with Sheldon Lee Compton for fwriction : review’s Writer Squared series!

TMD Writes: Daily Short #16

Thu, 17 May 2012 10:03:02 -0400

TMD Writes: Daily Short #16:

tmdwrites:

The reasons behind my affinity for today’s Daily Short are many: the protagonist’s twisted sense of entitlement and power and the way she counts “fat people in public”; how the waitress is described: “She’s had babies come out of her”; the lack of an epiphany from the characters; and, of course, my love for all sweet potato foods.

Daily Short #16 is Sweet Potato Fries Please, by Frank Hinton.

I read this story a year ago when it was published by Fwriction Review, and it’s stuck with me ever since.

Sheldon Lee Compton’s song selection—to accompany his...

Thu, 17 May 2012 09:20:19 -0400

Sheldon Lee Compton’s song selection—to accompany his short story “Snapshot ‘87”—for fwriction : review’s Waffle-Rocking Playlist

The new issue of Fiction Month, Sheldon Lee Compton's "Snapshot '87," is live at fwriction : review

Thu, 17 May 2012 09:02:24 -0400

The new issue of Fiction Month, Sheldon Lee Compton's "Snapshot '87," is live at fwriction : review

“Later, I tell him, they left notes. My brothers had this...

Wed, 16 May 2012 08:51:49 -0400

“Later, I tell him, they left notes. My brothers had this painstaking script, they were at the arcade, they wrote on long yellow pads, they landed roles in All My Sons, studied Mandarin, or so they said. It was a matter of faith. Our house howled from poor insulation. After school, I’d dive beneath their covers, cradling division tables and lozenges encased in snappy metal, waiting as the hours collapsed, my brothers fleshed in Ronald Reagan masks from the Land of Confusion video blaring all night on TV while I dreamed between asteroid sheets, alone in their empty twin beds.”

Sara Lippmann, “Fun and Games”

"You start by writing to live. You end by writing so as not to die."

Tue, 15 May 2012 17:10:26 -0400

“You start by writing to live. You end by writing so as not to die.”

- Carlos Fuentes (1928 - 2012)

"He spits. You mean Jehovah’s Witness, he says, coming out of the bathroom. I had a classmate once..."

Tue, 15 May 2012 15:05:46 -0400

“

He spits.

You mean Jehovah’s Witness, he says, coming out of the bathroom. I had a classmate once who wouldn’t stand for the Pledge of Allegiance. Wore burgundy bloomers and smelled like canned spaghetti; now, there’s a home life.

The B&B from our honeymoon was run by Jehovah’s, I say, but it is a digression. That couple serving blood pudding thick as pucks, just how you like it, have you seen a happier marriage? Their pamphlets warmed our bedside, glossy faces slid carelessly in the tub. You said you could live there forever, with your currants and clotted cream, never leave the countryside.

That’s because I assumed everyone was Catholic, he says, working a water pick.

I slide over on the bed.

”

- Sara Lippmann, “Fun and Games”

Terrible Storms: An Interview with Sheldon Lee Compton

Mon, 14 May 2012 12:11:00 -0400

Interviewed by Meg Tuite

Sheldon Lee Compton’s raw and powerful writing has been memorable since the first story I read of his, two years ago. I can hear the southern drawl of his characters either fighting it out in the bedroom or bar, or sitting outside on a hot night in Eastern Kentucky speaking of love, friendships, misunderstandings, family angst and unrequited love. But he is not only a regional writer. He takes us anywhere he wants us to go with his writing and that, for me, is the sign of an exceptional writer. I have been a fan of his from that first story I read and have never been disappointed.

I was ecstatic, as were his multitude of fans that a collection of his short stories, The Same Terrible Storm, was finally coming out through Foxhead Books. And then to find out that another collection, Where Alligators Sleep, is soon to follow and he’s working on a novel, as well, was icing on the cake.

Sheldon Lee Compton unravels his characters and plots with truth and straightforwardness that allow the reader to drop into a story and forget anything outside of it. There are many facets I love about Sheldon’s work, but especially his fearlessness in letting his characters reveal their vulnerability either through physicality or dialogue.

I’m extremely excited that there’s a long-awaited collection of knock-out Sheldon Lee Compton stories at Foxhead Books. I can’t wait to get my copy! Can you tell us some of the specifics of this collection, The Same Terrible Storm?

Thanks very much. I appreciate that. The collection is something I hope people will enjoy. These are stories about where I’m from, Eastern Kentucky, and told in a real and human way. I’ve tried to eliminate the tendency in readers to see only black and white when reading about a drug dealer, for instance, or a single mother of three kids. There’s always more beneath the surface, and I’ve tried to take off the blinders, so to speak, with The Same Terrible Storm. It’s [out now] from Foxhead Books, and it will be available through Amazon, Barnes & Noble, as well as the Foxhead website.

How long were you working on The Same Terrible Storm, and how does it feel to finally get all of these amazing stories into one collection?

This collection is made up of stories I wrote over the course of maybe two years. Many of them have appeared in journals ranging from [PANK] to Yellow Mama, and I’m happy each of these magazines accepted the stories. All my work connects in some way, a deep way. It has been one of my goals as a writer. I’m excited to have all the stories placed into one book. I truly believe what I have tried so hard to express through sporadic appearances in various journals can be best understood or enjoyed through this collection of stories. And I’m honored that you would consider my storytelling amazing. That’s such a kind thing for you to say. It’s a fine thing. I’m humbled and thankful, Meg.

The stories I have read of yours have always been memorable. You bring in the smells and the sounds and the visuals of the south. I always feel like I’m sitting on a porch swing watching things transpire when I’m reading your work. Who would say were your biggest influences as a regional writer?

My earliest influence was my uncle, a fairly well-known Appalachian poet. Growing up and writing stories, I’d always ask him to read them. They were terrible, of course, but he would sit while visiting and read them carefully, intently, and then place the story in front of him and immediately begin discussing writing theory and where I could improve the story. I was eleven, and this accomplished, award-winning poet was work-shopping with me as if I was along with him at a Yaddo retreat and we’d both published hundreds of works. He treated me as a literary equal and never looked down or talked down to me about the work, the craft, as he said then. I loved that word—craft—and it was just a big step toward my saying it seemed completely normal to want to be a writer. I knew one, had an uncle who was one. Why did everyone seem to think it was so strange? It’s funny I know, but I understand. I’m from a place where you work the mines, or drive trucks, or take up welding. My region is one where men and women alike find employment through the use of trade skills.

Beyond that early and generous education, I moved into reading writers who inspired me to lean toward regional writing. I’d have to say, at one point, I came to the decision that I wanted to write anything other than stories about where I’m from. I’d seen my uncle do this, and though I admired him, thought it seemed, well, boring. I began reading a lot of biographies. For years I read biographies, and still do. I’ll admit I dipped very little into the classics or even esteemed books available to me. By the time I realized I had an urge to write about my region, I had already come across writers like Breece D’J Pancake, Harry Crews, and, of course, Larry Brown. These writers, along with William Gay (particularly his story collection I Hate To See That Evening Sun Go Down), helped me see I could write about Eastern Kentucky in an honest way that still had heart beneath the gritty realities we all face here each day. And the final influence, to date, came when, just as I was worrying I was doing very little but copying the style of these giants, I stumbled upon another giant who could not have been more different from these other writers but left me stunned with his style of telling a story in a way I’d never seen before.

Neela Vaswani, a wonderfully talented New York-based writer, a good friend and former teacher of mine during grad school, insisted I read Michael Ondaatje’s Coming Through Slaughter. I was reluctant. I mistakenly assumed it was a far different kind of book than what I found when I read the first page. Ondaatje was a stylist, a lyricist, a poet and writer who blended the two forms in a broken narrative that was, without exaggeration, intoxicating to me. When I returned to my work, these writers, and the early encouragement from my uncle, breathed new energy into my work. I realized I did not have to sacrifice that beautiful language, those risks, to write about my region and write stories of my people. The shift brought more depth to the stories, my characters, my own style as a writer. For the first time, I felt my voice had arrived, and, along with it, themes that started to surface, along with an overall direction and purpose for my complete body of work from that time until now.

That’s beautiful, Sheldon! You were storytelling as you gave us the history of your inspirations from your uncle to Ondaatje. Love that! Can you share a poem of yours with us that encompasses a feeling you have for Eastern Kentucky?

I’ve written far more prose than poetry, but I do have a poem I wrote, admittedly about seven years ago while working as a coal miner, so I hope I’ve grown as a writer in that time. But it’s a poem I’m still happy with today. During college I took work at what they call an “outside man” in the coal mining industry. This is the worker who picks rock from the belt line and charges the scoops, makes sure the ventilation fan is running properly, and other general tasks. I was never underground, but often watched the men emerging from the mouth of the mine at the end of a shift. I worked the night shift. I was attending college at the time and so in the mornings, when the miners were moving slowly to their vehicles to go home, I noticed something that hit me hard then and still resonates with me today. Sitting by a split barrel of coal I’d used to heat with through the night with stolen chucks of coal from the belt, I pulled out a notebook and pen and jotted down this poem, as follows:

I Could Feel the Ground Move

Some people talk about
feeling the ground move.
They say, “I swear I
could feel the ground
move.”

Watch men move mountains
and see, it’s not so
romantic.

What’s romantic about
coal-covered faces and
hats with lights
struggling after a shift
beside open truck doors
to change pants so
they can keep the seats
clean?

Maybe a lot.

Maybe it means a lot to
the wife and kids,
something real they can see,
true effort, not the idea of
some black hole where
the ground moves.

It’s the closest I’ve come to writing about my region in poetic form, but the image, for me at least, sticks. Some of the best people I’ve met, I met while working at that mine. They had names like “German” and “Tiny” and kept me constantly entertained, even if some of it was aimed at me. I mean, who works as an outside man and reads Faulkner biographies once he’s marked the belt line for rips, tears or other places that needed attention? I was an easy target, but during all of it I was always soaked in all that character. That’s one of the true blessings I have as a writer—everywhere around me are characters, unique and strong and weak and everything in between.

Those images packed a punch. The real deal of living that day-to-day existence that very few are privy to be a part of. Thank you for sharing your poem.

Do you have any ideal place where you like to go to get away from the computers and phones? Somewhere you know that no one can find you?

I do not currently have such a place. But while growing up, I often climbed to the top of John Attic Ridge in my hometown, the tallest mountain, or climbed Virgie Cliffs overlooking the train tunnel. These are spots that still hold power for me as an adult. I’ve not been back to either in years, but those were my spots. Nothing but silence and the sounds of small woodland life, the rattle of a wind caught between a ridge, and I was quiet within that world.

Today, I suppose music would be my way of stepping away from the computer. I’ve played guitar since I was five years old, and it’s good for me to stop writing from time to time and play a few songs, or have a session with friends. It’s still a creative outlet without the need to constantly stay alert to the activity itself, as with writing. If I miss a chord, who cares? I’m not trying to make it to Nashville as a guitar player. I’m just having fun. Then, I go back to the computer and am reminded that writing is fun. I know it sounds strange, but when you write seven or eight hours a day that simple fact can get lost in the shuffle. For me, the second the writing becomes more work than fun, the writing suffers, the story suffers, the characters suffer. And characters should only ever suffer on the page. I owe them that much at least.

Your mountain sounds heavenly, and I agree: music is a great way to bring it all back in perspective. Would love to hear a Sheldon song one day.

Damn! You write seven or eight hours a day? That’s impressive. What projects are you working on now?

I’m afforded that time because of a decision I made back in October to write full-time for half a year to a year and see what comes of it. It’s been a cool trip so far, and I’ve started a number of projects I wouldn’t have been able to otherwise. After finishing edit work on The Same Terrible Storm, I moved on to editing a second, shorter collection that’s been slated to come out from Foxhead called Where Alligators Sleep. But since putting the first book to bed I’ve been working most every day on a novel currently titled Brown Bottle. The title character, Wade “Brown Bottle” Kingston, is an alcoholic who is struggling to keep his nephew out of the drug culture in Eastern Kentucky. But, to do that, he has to pick himself up first. I’m enjoying the work on the novel, a longer form and full of challenges that force me to step outside a form I’ve grown comfortable with. I think it’s important to do that as often as you can as a storyteller.

Meg Tuite’s writing has appeared in numerous journals including Berkeley Fiction Review, Epiphany, One, the Journal, Monkeybicycle and elimae. She is the fiction editor of The Santa Fe Literary Review and Connotation Press. She has a novel Domestic Apparition (2011) San Francisco Bay Press and a chapbook, Disparate Pathos (2012) Monkey Puzzle Press. The Exquisite Quartet Anthology 2011 is available. She has a monthly column, Exquisite Quartet, published up at Used Furniture Review.

Sheldon Lee Compton is the author of The Same Terrible Storm (Foxhead Books, 2012). He survives in Eastern Kentucky.

Fun and Games, by Sara Lippmann

Mon, 14 May 2012 11:20:46 -0400

fwrictionreview:

I’m trying to tell him what it was like.

My brothers played foosball. In my mother’s closet among party dresses suffocating in bags I’d hide while in the basement rods spun and missed. Sometimes I’d carry a jar of olives, but usually I kept my hands free in case the KKK should happen to hop the porch and catch the wink of chrome on our doorpost and torch it all down to reach me.

That’s reasonable. The Ku Klux Klan in suburban New Jersey, he says, toothpaste foaming.

I vow to try harder.

It was a game, I insist.

He spits.

You mean Jehovah’s Witness, he says, coming out of the bathroom. I had a classmate once who wouldn’t stand for the Pledge of Allegiance. Wore burgundy bloomers and smelled like canned spaghetti; now, there’s a home life.

Read More

"Whatever else is unsure in this stinking dunghill of a world a mother’s love is not."

Sun, 13 May 2012 13:12:00 -0400

““Whatever else is unsure in this stinking dunghill of a world a mother’s love is not.””

- James Joyce (1881-1941)

Read the new issue of fwriction : review’s Fiction...

Fri, 11 May 2012 13:25:10 -0400

fwriction : review (Mobile Version)

Google Currents

Read the new issue of fwriction : review’s Fiction Month—Sara Lippmann’s short story “Fun and Games”—on your mobile device!

Photos from the PEN World Voices Festival Closing Party,...

Thu, 10 May 2012 14:54:00 -0400

Laura Brown and Etgar Keret

Danny Goodman and Róbert Gál

Róbert Gál

Photos from the PEN World Voices Festival Closing Party, including:

√ A gorgeous photo of Associate Editor Laura Brown with Etgar Keret (and Editor Danny Goodman off to the side, looking certifiably insane)

√ Editor Danny Goodman sharing stories with PEN author and fwriction : review contributor Róbert Gál

√ PEN author and fwriction : review contributor Róbert Gál conversing with David Goldfarb of the Polish Cultural Institute

Sara Lippmann’s song selection—to accompany her short...

Thu, 10 May 2012 09:31:17 -0400

Sara Lippmann’s song selection—to accompany her short story “Fun and Games”—for fwriction : review’s Waffle-Rocking Playlist