Posts tagged writing
I loved my MFA program, but I had to scrabble and scrape to get what few ounces of industry savvy I left with. This is a problem.
I was looking for something else on my computer and found a file called “after agee” from my first semester of grad school. It’s a less-than-page-long document about living alone and the farmers market and cooking - I don’t even know what class this was for. I don’t remember reading any Agee in grad school! I see how little bits of it snuck into an essay I wrote a year later, how I’d been getting words ready for their ideas. But it feels like a stranger wrote this, too. This is how it ends:
There is a cat sleeping in the window, and my knife slices through stems, heavy and deft. Cutting into smaller pieces, down and down, and I am alone in the room and alone in my home, but I am alone in my head and the inside of my head is vast. I had never known this place before I spent so many hours quiet, knocked on some door with the rhythmic hits of my knife blade on the cutting board after it’s sliced through a stem.
The whole piece is in italics and I have no idea why.
The Great Blog Hop: Writers talkin bout writing
My great friend Isaac tagged me in The Great Blog Hop, where writers discuss their work and process and tag other writers to participate. Isaac and I had sort of parallel (but very different) departures from theatre to writing at around the same time - he (sort of) left directing, I left new play development, we ended up in nonfiction MFA programs within a year of each other - and it’s been great sort of growing up together, or growing into this new world. Isaac read on the first episode of The Catapult, and his answers to the Blog Hop questions are here. Mine are below.
I interviewed Leslie Jamison for BuzzFeed Books. We talked about travel, parents, writing, pain, maggots, ultra-marathons, and other sorts of things one expects in an essay collection.
These are the ways foreign women get down the street in Cairo. These are the tricks they share, the ways they teach me to “beige out,” as one woman put it, to fog up the glasses, whenever outside. Outside is the sphere of Egyptian men. Men run markets, crowd alleys, fill every subway car but the very middle one, marked by a huddle of headscarves. Females are scarce on Cairo’s streets, and those who do appear seem hurried, like mice suddenly exposed in the middle of a room, rushing for cover.
Colleen Kinder, “Blot Out”
Hear Colleen read from this essay in episode 2.