Me, myself, and I

The use of self--the “I”--in writing is a tough balance. On one end of the continuum is ignoring the self and on the other end is living in a world of constant Dear Diary impulses: “This is how I feel now...and now...and now...and now...” (Actually, it’s not just in writing that this is a tough balance, it’s a tough balance in living too.)

In an Emerson essay that I recently read (and I wish I could remember which one), he used “I” only once. This is in sharp contrast to many essayists who strew their “I’s” about like so many pretzel sticks spilled from a bag.

Annie Dillard offers a good balance, in my opinion, and I’m reminded of this once again as I’m reading An American Childhood. In an essay entitled "To Fashion a Text", included in Zinsser's anthology Inventing the Truth: The Art and Craft of Memoir, Dillard discusses the decisions she made in crafting this memoir. Among the topics she intentionally left out of the memoir--as far as she could--was herself. The rule she established for herself was: "The personal pronoun can be the subject of the verb: 'I see this, I did that.' But not the object of the verb: 'I analyze me, I discuss me, I describe me, I quote me.“ This is largely her modus operandi in most of her work.

In Pilgrim at Tinker Creek, Dillard identifies her role in the book, “I am an explorer, then, and I am also a stalker, or the instrument of the hunt itself.” She tells how Indians used to carve long grooves called “lightening marks” into their arrows’ wooden shafts. If the pursued game didn’t fall from the initial arrow penetration, its blood from the wound would flow along the groove and on to the ground, leaving a trail of blood for the Indian to follow. “I am the arrow shaft, carved along my length by unexpected lights and gashes from the very sky, and this book is the straying trail of blood.”

Reading and writing

The Seattle Pacific MFA program that I started here is nearing an end. Just this morning I sent in my last writing and book annotations. Another residency follows later this summer and then it's over. I had intended to write about it as I went along but somehow there just hasn't been time for much blogging about the program because I was too consumed with doing the program. Maybe I can still add some things here after the fact.

One thing I thought about this morning as I sent in my final packet of work is the reading requirement for the program. Part of the program's philosophy is that good reading is essential to good writing. In fact, the program requires reading a total of 60 books and writing a 2-3 page annotation on each. A portion of the titles are required, the others can be self-selected according to your genre of interest and input from your mentor.

Here are some of the books that were required during the past two years:
    Pilgrim at Tinker Creek by Annie Dillard
    Confessions by Augustine
    Mystery and Manners by Flannery O'Connor
    Waiting for God by Simone Weil
    Poetry and essays of Gerard Manley Hopkins
    The Divine Comedy: Inferno by Dante
    Genesis, translated by Robert Alter
    Four Quartets by T. S. Eliot
    Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor Dostoevsky

I know a number of writers read this blog from time to time so they might be interested to hear a goal reading: writing ratio as per my mentor in the program. He suggests to aim for 100 pages of reading at a minimum for every 100 words of writing! And he doesn't mean read 100 pages of research-type reading for every 100 words of writing from that research. He means saturate yourself with 100 pages of good literary writing of any kind for every 100 words of whatever you happen to be writing about. Research-type reading is above and beyond. That's an incredible standard.

Southern sweet iced tea, in volume

A couple years ago I made a massive amount of sweet iced tea--reminiscent of my years in Florida--for my son's graduation open house party. To avoid having to buy a second refrigerator or adding counter space to hold all the pitchers, I made a tea concentrate in advance and then just diluted with water and added ice as needed to meet the demand at the party. It turned out really well and what was leftover was easily saved by freezing in ice cube trays.

Because it is once again the season of graduation open houses, here's the recipe:

Bring 6 cups of water to a boil. As soon as it boils, pour it over 55 regular-sized tea bags. Let it steep for 5 minutes. Remove the tea bags. Place them in another bowl. Squeeze them out by pressing on them with a spoon and add that liquid to the rest of the tea concentrate. When the concentrate is still hot, add sugar, if desired. I added 1.5 cups of sugar to each batch of concentrate. Also, if desired, add some mint. I added about 10 leaves of mint to each batch, bruising each leaf a bit with a spoon before adding it to the hot concentrate. This batch will make about 4-6 pitchers of tea. I made 3 batches, not tripling all at once, but separately. It might prove difficult to work with more than 55 tea bags at a time.

To use: put about one cup of concentrate in a pitcher and fill the pitcher with water. May want to use more or less according to taste and size of pitcher. To make by the glass, use one or two tablespoons of tea to a glass of water. Or freeze the concentrate in ice cube trays and use 1 to 2 ice cubes to a glass of water.

Note: Tea should be made with filtered water to keep mineral deposits from clouding it. Also, keep the concentrate at room temp unless you're going to freeze it, also to keep from clouding. At room temp it's good for about a day or so. It's fine also in the refrig but it may cloud up.

Enjoy!

When the lights go down

On this sunny breezy Sunday afternoon I'm reading T. S. Eliot's Four Quartets. It's my first time through what Eliot considered his masterpiece and much of it is flying over my head with the breeze. Obviously this collection of four poems will require re-reading and abiding with for awhile. Even so, the first read through is generous with food for thought.

From the second poem, "East Coker":

"I said to my soul, be still, and let the dark come upon you
Which shall be the darkness of God. As, in a theatre,
The lights are extinguished, for the scene to be changed..."

Job description: pray and pray

Annie Dillard wrote the introduction for Wind on the Sand: the Hidden Life of an Anchoress by Pinions (a pseudonym). I'll admit, that's the reason why I requested it from the library a year or so ago. I didn't even know what an anchoress was and had to look it up in the dictionary: "A woman who has retired into seclusion for religious reasons." Pinions' vocation was prayer and so with the help of a benefactor (the church, if I remember right) she moved into a small cottage and in seclusion she prayed. All day, every day: it was her job. This week, I was reminded of this book when I came across a contemporary, urban, noncloistered example of praying as a job. I met an attorney who employs three people to do nothing but pray for this city.

The Scene Book

Scofield The Scene Book.jpg

Sandra Scofield--award-winning novelist and on the faculty of Seattle Pacific's MFA program--has a new book out on writing fiction, specifically, on writing the scene: The Scene Book: A Primer for the Fiction Writer. Ihaven't read it yet, but I'm confident to recommended it, nonetheless. Because Sandra's on the faculty of the program I'm in I can attest to the fact that she is an amazing teacher and disciplined writer (note the emphasis here) who knows what she's talking about.