Call for Ukrainian American Writers

Ukrainian American Writers: A New Generation of Literary Voices, will present their annual reading on November 5th, 2011 at The Ukrainian Institute of Modern Art in Chicago.

Three writers will be selected to read their work through a juried reading process.  If you are a Ukrainian American writer and would like to submit your work for consideration, please send 3-5 poems or a 2-3 page excerpt from a short story, novel, or play that you would like to read via e-mail to [email protected].  Please include your name in the subject line, along with the genre of work you are sending.

Past readers will be considered, provided that new work is forwarded for review.

The submission period is June 1st through September 15, 2011, and selected writers will be contacted via e-mail by October 1st, 2011.

For more information please contact organizers Sonya Arko or Anna Golash at [email protected].

One Book, One Chicago

After teaching my daughter’s class about DaVinci and making Picasso Portraits with my son’s kindergarten class, I took the train downtown and met up with Ellen Prather of 8 Eyes Photography to walk over to the Harold Washington Library. It was a glorious, sunny afternoon in Chicago, and I was looking forward to the conversation between Audrey Niffenegger and Neil Gaiman, whose book Neverwhere was chosen as this year’s One Book, One Chicago.

Audrey Niffenegger and Neil Gaiman (Photo by 8 Eyes Photography)

They did not disappoint. After collecting our tickets and posters, Ellen and I found our seats in the second row and waited: watching the crowd and eavesdropping on bits of conversation about Neil and Amanda, Neverwhere, twitter, The Time Traveler’s Wife, and Dr. Who.

Following an eloquent introduction by Mary Dempsey and a word from the sponsor (Allstate), Audrey and Neil began with a comfortable conversation about London and “Magic City Books,” as well as the inspiration and evolution of Neverwhere. Neil and Audrey discussed creativity, generosity, readings, and fairy tales (among other things) and then opened up to questions from the audience.

Audrey Niffenegger and Neil Gaiman (Photo by 8 Eyes Photography)

My favorite of the answers to questions from the audience were those that led Neil and Audrey to talk about their process. As a writer, this is the part of interviews that most interests me. I love hearing about how other people find inspiration and deal with challenges. They talked about “writer’s block” and the ways they circumvent it, and each described a few of the books they are currently reading.

One young boy in my row asked about the inspiration for Coraline, which launched Neil into a conversation of how his daughter Holly (now in her twenties and a milliner in London), would jump up on his lap after school and dictate stories rich and dark and populated by all manner of monsters, ghosts, and other mothers. Unable to find ghost stories for five-year-olds, he decided that he would write some.

The story made me laugh because it reminded me so much of my youngest, my blueberry girl, who is full of scary stories and wild rides of her imagination. It was one of many times that Neil would describe something about his writing process, and I found myself nodding enthusiastically, thinking to myself: I thought only I did that. I thought only I thought that. Always nice to hear those echoes from someone I admire.

Time flew by. It was over in an hour, and Audrey and Neil graciously took their leave.

Neil Gaiman (Photo by 8 Eyes Photography)

 

Book reviews & audience in the Internet Age

Book reviews are the published writer’s reality show. Many of us cannot help ourselves. We peruse them to get a glimpse of our beloved audience, for better or for worse.

(Side note: A quick search on the history of book reviews came up with nothing! I cannot help but wonder when the first reviews were published in periodicals. Anyone?)

Remember, much of a writer’s time is spent alone in a room with a notebook or laptop, maybe in a cafe or library. Even when surrounded by people or pets, we’re often in our own worlds. By the time a book is published, we are hungry for ways to eavesdrop on the reader as she reads our words and enters our worlds.

Book reviews give us a window. Of course there are book signings, readings, and book clubs visits–all wonderful way of making contact. But for every one town we visit, there are hundreds we cannot. Historically, how did writers reach loyal readers and gain new ones? Book reviews.

Until the arrival of the internet. Suddenly writers (and artists, musicians, etc.) had new ways to connect with their audience and with each other. It started with message boards and blogs,  then myspace, facebook, and twitter. Ah, twitter.

I know that I’ve written about this before. Sure, there’s a lot of mundane filler on twitter, but there are also gems. For me, it’s nice to know that at 2am I can dip into twitter and connect with others also working during the witching hours, a patchwork picture of the creative process: Felicia Day peruses casting submissions for The Guild, Neil Gaiman works on his Monkey book, Leonard Nimoy shares an old photograph from his early days on film, Molly Robison writes a Ouija-inspired ghost song, Ellen Kushner listens to the final mix of her radio play The Witches of Lublin, Amanda Palmer composes an analysis of Rebecca Black and music today, Kabriel designs a new double-breasted vest, Kyle Cassidy shares his beautiful portrait of Michael Zulli. Along the way they talk to fans and to each other.

But back to book reviews. They carry weight. Depending on where they appear, they carry different types of weight. A New York Times book review is not the same as one posted on a personal blog. However both are online, are collected by google, reach people around the world, and can influence readers.

One twitter friend who reads The Silence of Trees sends out a tweet about how much she loved it. Perhaps ten of her friends go out and buy a copy on Amazon (or on kindle for $.99) Five of them love it and tweet about it, or post it on facebook, and so on it goes. The readership grows. It’s remarkable really. Word of mouth can become viral on the internet.

Speaking of viral and reviews, doubtless some of you have heard about the author who publicly trashed a book review and damaged her reputation (if not, here you go.) She broke the rule, you never respond to book reviews except to say, “Thank you.”

I don’t always share my book reviews, but I do read all that I can get my hands on (thank you, Google Alerts). I’m sure this will change in time. Published writer friends have told me that I will eventually stop reading the reviews. Perhaps.

This book review written by Kristen Thiel on The Nervous Breakdown made me happy:

“The Silence of Trees is a modern American narrative steeped in fairy tale. Though some scenes are rather laborious, most provide excellent vehicles for conveying Ukranian folklore and religion, the surrealism of war and immigration, and a woman sharing her story with both bluntness and wonder, the mixed result of finding her own voice after decades of restrained living.

Few book reviews start with a foot rub but, really, more should. In one of the most thrilling scenes in Valya Dudycz Lupescu’s first novel—exciting for its unabashed passion and feminism, and most important for the new story it promises to start even thirty pages from the book’s end…”    Read the rest here.

Tastes vary in style, story, genre. I understand that everyone will not like everything I write. I understand that people will take issue with a story or poem or book or a character for any of a hundred reasons. Some will love it. Some will just like it. Some will not. I guess that’s why they tell you not to read the reviews. So that you don’t get paralyzed as a writer.

As writers, we can read the reviews; we can share them (if we want); and we can bite our tongues and keep writing.

Thank you to everyone who takes the time to write a review for The Silence of Trees on their blog or on Amazon or Goodreads. For new writers, you are our PR teams.

And thank you, Kristen Thiel. You made my Thursday morning.