The Million Writers Award
Top Online Short Stories of 2004.
http://www.storysouth.com/millionwriters/2004notablestories.html
"Whether you are just beginning to explore the world of online fiction or are an old-hand to the realm, you will find much to enjoy here. All genres of short stories are represented. All types of writing styles are on exhibit. Journals from around the world are highlighted. The only criteria used to select these stories was excellence and, as you will see, there is plenty of excellence to be found among online journals and magazines."
This is a great collection of online stories. I like having my students check out online lit mags and read the newest fictions being published, and this is a way to read the "best of the best" - of course, only according to the opinions of those judging. But there is a collection out there in print - The Best Short Stories of (Fill in the Year), and many teachers use that as a classroom text. This is just another way to have readers accessing literature - and for no cost, which any student can certainly appreciate!
Saturday, February 26, 2005
Friday, February 25, 2005
Winning is Nothing
I and several of my colleagues together won an award for work we have been doing to bring accessible literature and the arts to our isolated, rural community. It was great to know that we had been recognized for our work. I had always seen pictures at conferences and in professional publications of people who have won awards and thought, What does it take to get an award like that? How do people "win" something like that? Now I know. You don't set out to do it at all. In fact, that's not even at all what you think about. The award isn't won, it's given, out of recognition, out of admiration, out of appreciation, for something you just do.
The work we did was work we all wanted to see happen because we care - about our craft and about our community. We wanted to see poetry readings, we wanted to see a literary-art publication, we wanted to be a part of it. We had a desire and a passion that drove us, and our own needs to be fulfilled in the process, so in some ways, it is also selfish, but ultimately benefits others. Selfish in the sense that, well, sitting on work committees, while (supposedly) benefiting others, certainly feeds no desire or passion of mine. Chances are, nowadays, if I'm on a committee, it's because I got wrangled into one somehow: Enrollment Management, Curriculum, PR... Really, I've no burning desires to be fulfilled in those areas. Others may, and that's great for them. But I'd rather be working on a poetry reading or a lit mag. There's my desire. There's my passion.
So, we "win" an award for innovative leadership. And I drive for 2 1/2 hours with my husband downstate to receive the award, thinking all about how it will be. People at their tables, applauding us as we walk forward. We're asked to say a few words, we're handed our awards, another round of applause, pictures, we return to our seats, my husband beaming with pride, and we glow in the aftermath of recognition.
Reality check. It's a tense ride down, we're late getting on the road (another story for another day), but we do get there in time. It's lunch, but I'm so stressed from the ride down, I can't eat. The room is packed, people are not polite when we ask if chairs are available, but finally we get two together and squeeze in next to a woman who's none too pleased we have taken up a few inches of her elbow room. That's okay, I think jokingly to myself, she doesn't know I'm famous yet...
I look around the room and see all the people I have known for many years - academics, scholars, rhetoricians, researchers - and suddenly, I'm feeling very small and very stupid. I have never felt in a league with others in my field whom I consider more "intellectual" than me. The room begins to clear out as people finish their lunches - the audience size dwindling - and in a way, I'm grateful for this. The speaker gets up and begins with a few announcements. My stomach is flip-flopping. My colleague says to me, "If they ask us to speak, will you do it?" I nod, hesitantly at first, but secretly knowing I have been running through a speech in my head the whole way down.
We wait through more announcements, then a raffle. Then another raffle. Then yet another raffle. More people are leaving the room until just a skeletal crew of the too-lazy-to-walk-after-lunch is left. Finally, they come around to the awards. We're asked to stand, so we do, then just keep standing there. The woman speaking isn't sure where the awards are, or what to do next. I push my colleague forward and we walk to the stage amid a smattering of applause. We step up as she finds the awards, shakes his hand, gives him the plaques. She shows them to the audience and describes them. She looks again at my colleague (not at me once) and says she doesn't know what she's doing, shakes his hand again. I hold out my hand, and for the first time, I think she realizes I am there. She shakes it quickly, we step down from the stage and are stopped for a picture.
I walk back to my seat accompanied by a few gratuitous claps. My husband looks bored at best, and is most likely wondering how he got talked into losing a whole day's work to be there, and says nothing as we sit down. Others congratulate us briefly, and the rest continue to lilt away as the second award is presented.
That was it. No grand ceremony. No great speeches. No beaming admiration.
We left, got back in the car and made the return trip in as much silence as the trip down.
And, so I've learned from this (of course, there has to be a what have you learned from this part, right?) - winning is nothing, it's the having done and continuing to do that matters; maintain a humble appreciation for others' recognition; never go to award ceremonies expecting anything other than the company of others (polite or otherwise); and if you want beaming admiration, invite your parents. Once they're dead, see if you can bring your dog along, but remember to put a few biscuits in your pocket.
The work we did was work we all wanted to see happen because we care - about our craft and about our community. We wanted to see poetry readings, we wanted to see a literary-art publication, we wanted to be a part of it. We had a desire and a passion that drove us, and our own needs to be fulfilled in the process, so in some ways, it is also selfish, but ultimately benefits others. Selfish in the sense that, well, sitting on work committees, while (supposedly) benefiting others, certainly feeds no desire or passion of mine. Chances are, nowadays, if I'm on a committee, it's because I got wrangled into one somehow: Enrollment Management, Curriculum, PR... Really, I've no burning desires to be fulfilled in those areas. Others may, and that's great for them. But I'd rather be working on a poetry reading or a lit mag. There's my desire. There's my passion.
So, we "win" an award for innovative leadership. And I drive for 2 1/2 hours with my husband downstate to receive the award, thinking all about how it will be. People at their tables, applauding us as we walk forward. We're asked to say a few words, we're handed our awards, another round of applause, pictures, we return to our seats, my husband beaming with pride, and we glow in the aftermath of recognition.
Reality check. It's a tense ride down, we're late getting on the road (another story for another day), but we do get there in time. It's lunch, but I'm so stressed from the ride down, I can't eat. The room is packed, people are not polite when we ask if chairs are available, but finally we get two together and squeeze in next to a woman who's none too pleased we have taken up a few inches of her elbow room. That's okay, I think jokingly to myself, she doesn't know I'm famous yet...
I look around the room and see all the people I have known for many years - academics, scholars, rhetoricians, researchers - and suddenly, I'm feeling very small and very stupid. I have never felt in a league with others in my field whom I consider more "intellectual" than me. The room begins to clear out as people finish their lunches - the audience size dwindling - and in a way, I'm grateful for this. The speaker gets up and begins with a few announcements. My stomach is flip-flopping. My colleague says to me, "If they ask us to speak, will you do it?" I nod, hesitantly at first, but secretly knowing I have been running through a speech in my head the whole way down.
We wait through more announcements, then a raffle. Then another raffle. Then yet another raffle. More people are leaving the room until just a skeletal crew of the too-lazy-to-walk-after-lunch is left. Finally, they come around to the awards. We're asked to stand, so we do, then just keep standing there. The woman speaking isn't sure where the awards are, or what to do next. I push my colleague forward and we walk to the stage amid a smattering of applause. We step up as she finds the awards, shakes his hand, gives him the plaques. She shows them to the audience and describes them. She looks again at my colleague (not at me once) and says she doesn't know what she's doing, shakes his hand again. I hold out my hand, and for the first time, I think she realizes I am there. She shakes it quickly, we step down from the stage and are stopped for a picture.
I walk back to my seat accompanied by a few gratuitous claps. My husband looks bored at best, and is most likely wondering how he got talked into losing a whole day's work to be there, and says nothing as we sit down. Others congratulate us briefly, and the rest continue to lilt away as the second award is presented.
That was it. No grand ceremony. No great speeches. No beaming admiration.
We left, got back in the car and made the return trip in as much silence as the trip down.
And, so I've learned from this (of course, there has to be a what have you learned from this part, right?) - winning is nothing, it's the having done and continuing to do that matters; maintain a humble appreciation for others' recognition; never go to award ceremonies expecting anything other than the company of others (polite or otherwise); and if you want beaming admiration, invite your parents. Once they're dead, see if you can bring your dog along, but remember to put a few biscuits in your pocket.
Thursday, February 24, 2005
Be Progressive - Be-ee Progressive!
"Campus Progress, a project of the Center for American Progress, is a
brand-new effort to strengthen progressive voices on college and university campuses nationwide; counter the growing influence of right-wing groups on campus; and empower new generations of progressive leaders."
http://www.campusprogress.org/
My favorite is the "Who Defines Your Values" ad. Look for the link for it at the bottom of the homepage.
brand-new effort to strengthen progressive voices on college and university campuses nationwide; counter the growing influence of right-wing groups on campus; and empower new generations of progressive leaders."
http://www.campusprogress.org/
My favorite is the "Who Defines Your Values" ad. Look for the link for it at the bottom of the homepage.
Wednesday, February 23, 2005
Hunter is Dead
The death of Hunter S. Thompson Sunday night took me by surprise. I had one of those pangs that starts in the stomach and shoots outward through the limbs, followed by a numb tingling. It wasn't that I knew or really cared that much about him as a writer, because I didn't. I've read some of his works and never thought much of them. He was a writer larger in life than in print, so it seemed to me. Of course, as with any writer, he surely had his following. He was a literary and pop culture icon of a darker sort, a kind romanticized in the same way as Hemingway and his life. He was characterized in movies - played most recently by Johnny Depp, and prior to that by Bill Murray - as well as in comics - Doonsbury. I'm sure there were far more people who knew about him from these venues than ever actually read his works.
All the same, my feelings of shock and sadness were for the character of Hunter S., and for the sense of "end of an era" in my lifetime. I felt old for knowing who he was as well as for feeling a bout of tenderness at his passing. That he took his own life is no more the tragedy; if anything, it is quite in step with his character and, while sad in the sort of way that makes us wonder why or if something could have been done, it was not shocking.
Hunter S. is the second of those writers whom I have known to take his life in such fashion, which also stirred my emotions to recall. Richard Brautigan also committed suicide by shooting himself. I came to know his writing in 1983 and fell in love with his works. I read everything I could get my hands on. Several years later, I found out he had killed himself in 1984. I was stunned and angry that a writer whom I had only just discovered and sought out to read so thoroughly would write no more. I was angry that he was alive when I first read him, and even spent time in my hometown, but I would never get the chance to know him. I was angry at Brautigan for removing himself from this world, for taking his writing away. And though I don't feel this way about Hunter S., I'm sure there are those who do, and who will.
To Richard and to Hunter - rest in peace.
All the same, my feelings of shock and sadness were for the character of Hunter S., and for the sense of "end of an era" in my lifetime. I felt old for knowing who he was as well as for feeling a bout of tenderness at his passing. That he took his own life is no more the tragedy; if anything, it is quite in step with his character and, while sad in the sort of way that makes us wonder why or if something could have been done, it was not shocking.
Hunter S. is the second of those writers whom I have known to take his life in such fashion, which also stirred my emotions to recall. Richard Brautigan also committed suicide by shooting himself. I came to know his writing in 1983 and fell in love with his works. I read everything I could get my hands on. Several years later, I found out he had killed himself in 1984. I was stunned and angry that a writer whom I had only just discovered and sought out to read so thoroughly would write no more. I was angry that he was alive when I first read him, and even spent time in my hometown, but I would never get the chance to know him. I was angry at Brautigan for removing himself from this world, for taking his writing away. And though I don't feel this way about Hunter S., I'm sure there are those who do, and who will.
To Richard and to Hunter - rest in peace.
Friday, February 18, 2005
Wednesday, February 16, 2005
My First Blog
I'm no longer a blog virgin. Hmmmm. I don't feel like I'm glowing or tingly or anything. Oh well, why should this be any different? So, I'm going to become a blogger. I work on the web, I teach on the web, I depend on the web, so why not add some of my life to the web. I plan to have my students blog instead of keeping journals for basic composition class, and so, before I can teach it, I have to do it. Then, in a year, my students will be showing me more cool stuff about blogging than I ever could have figured out on my own. That's the joy of teaching!
Blogging instead of keeping a paper journal will be better for my students for several reasons:
1) They will learn computer skills. No, not all of them have those skills, and not all of them are very strong in those skills. I teach in a not-so-affluent, remote, rural area, and the more exposure I can help my students have to technology, the better.
2) It will get them to be more interactive in their thought process and analytical skills - thinking about others reading their blogs, having to read and respond to other students' blogs. More of a writers community than the individual, private journals. Those have their place, don't get me wrong, but I think my students can have some fun going public, and even airing their private ideas to the public. Hey, it's up to them what they want to share. Blogger.com sents the rules, not me.
3) They don't write in their paper journals. Okay, well, they do, but not like they "should." I assign three journals a week, and then collect their journals at certain intervals throughout the semester. By week five, they should have 15 journals done. By week five, I have students with none completed, and I listen to them talk about how they'll be up all night writing to get them done. Okay, I do tell them it's about quantity of writing, not necessarily quality when it comes to a journal, but this seems excessive in the practice of procrastination. With blogs, it will be easier for me to see that they are completing the work on a regular basis.
4) Blogs are cool. Way cooler than those ugly black and white composition books (which I, by the way, use - which is a clear indication they are not cool to a younger generation). So, they might actually like blogging and show it off to their family and friends, whereas the journal is hidden away.
5) After class is over, they may just keep it going. Wouldn't that be cool?
Blogging instead of keeping a paper journal will be better for my students for several reasons:
1) They will learn computer skills. No, not all of them have those skills, and not all of them are very strong in those skills. I teach in a not-so-affluent, remote, rural area, and the more exposure I can help my students have to technology, the better.
2) It will get them to be more interactive in their thought process and analytical skills - thinking about others reading their blogs, having to read and respond to other students' blogs. More of a writers community than the individual, private journals. Those have their place, don't get me wrong, but I think my students can have some fun going public, and even airing their private ideas to the public. Hey, it's up to them what they want to share. Blogger.com sents the rules, not me.
3) They don't write in their paper journals. Okay, well, they do, but not like they "should." I assign three journals a week, and then collect their journals at certain intervals throughout the semester. By week five, they should have 15 journals done. By week five, I have students with none completed, and I listen to them talk about how they'll be up all night writing to get them done. Okay, I do tell them it's about quantity of writing, not necessarily quality when it comes to a journal, but this seems excessive in the practice of procrastination. With blogs, it will be easier for me to see that they are completing the work on a regular basis.
4) Blogs are cool. Way cooler than those ugly black and white composition books (which I, by the way, use - which is a clear indication they are not cool to a younger generation). So, they might actually like blogging and show it off to their family and friends, whereas the journal is hidden away.
5) After class is over, they may just keep it going. Wouldn't that be cool?
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