Archive for July, 2010

Things I Want to do Before I Die

Wednesday, July 28th, 2010

Soak in the hot springs at Geysir, Iceland

Find the high school my grandmother attended in Tallin, Estonia in the early 1900s

See the little bronzes at the Hermitage in St. Petersburg

Attend White Sox spring training camp with Marty

Learn to sleep without pills

Make peace with my sister

Write and publish memoir about living in Saudi Arabia

Appear on NPR to talk about my books

Learn Latin

See the face of God

Train an old dog to do new tricks

Revisit Helsinki, Berlin, and Maine

Stand on my head

Flirt with dolphins

Spend a year teaching English (language, literature, creative writing) in Lithuania

Help end world hunger

Do stand up in a venue larger than a classroom

Buy a little red sports car and drive it very fast down a country road at night

Work as private English tutor with needy White Sox players from Venezuela, Cuba, etc. etc.

Write a memoir about love and Scrabble titled Love and Scrabble

Get above 1500 in tournament Scrabble

Visit South Africa

Find recipe for my mother’s cold blueberry soup

Throw a cold blueberry soup party

Keep adding to the list

Meet Mary Maddox

Friday, July 23rd, 2010

Thanks, Mary, for agreeing to be a guest blogger. I have a few questions that readers might be interested in.

What draws you to the genre of suspense (if that’s how you would characterize your work)? It’s not what one might expect from a graduate of the Iowa workshop.

Thanks for the opportunity to appear on your blog, Daiva.

In fact, my writing at the Workshop was less concerned with plot than character and landscape and prose style. I didn’t think of that as a weakness, but one of my teachers, Gail Godwin, advised me to learn how to plot. She recommended that I study Arthur Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes stories to learn how. I read and enjoyed Doyle’s stories, but didn’t take Godwin’s advice to heart for a long time. Eventually I came to realize that most readers want a compelling story. Although discerning readers also want complex and believable characters and elegant prose, the essential element is story. I began writing suspense novels when my novella “Water Dolls” evolved into a story of two teenagers stalked by a serial killer.  Suspense is a genre I’ve always enjoyed reading. While at the Workshop I loved the novels of Patricia Highsmith.

By the way, one of my classmates at the Iowa Writers Workshop writes mysteries. Jon A. Jackson’s Detroit mysteries, beginning with The Blind Pig, are great reads. One of his characters, a hit man, is somewhat based on my husband – not that Joe is a cold-blooded killer.

1)    The hero of Talion is an interesting and somewhat geeky adolescent girl. Has having such a character in a novel about a serial killer presented any problems?

The hero, Lu, became an issue when the novel was represented by an agent. He took on the novel because it received a good review from a reader at William-Morris. At that time he was in the process of leaving William-Morris to start his own agency. I went with him. When he began shopping the manuscript around, he found that editors balked because the story did not conform to the genre. They wanted an adult, middle-class protagonist, a detective or journalist. They were unwilling to take a chance on Lu, especially with the large advance my agent wanted.

So I rewrote the novel, a terrible mistake. The new hero was a small-town journalist, but I could not bring myself to make Lu a minor character. As a result, the rewrite was too long and lacked a clear storyline.  After a series of rejections from editors, the agent dropped me.

A couple of years later, I rewrote again, weaving a few elements of the rewrite into the original story and adding a new character, Talion, the ambiguous figure whom only Lu can see and hear.

2)    I couldn’t sleep one night while reading Talion. Perhaps you should attach prescriptions for Ambien with the novel.

Maybe I could get a kickback from the drug company.

 I’m pleased the novel has the power to affect readers that deeply, but hopefully readers won’t find it too profoundly disturbing to finish the story.

3)    Tell us about your writing process.

I revise a lot. Revision does not mean tinkering with the prose here and there; that’s line editing. Revision means conceiving the story in a new way.

While rewriting for the agent, I wrote every day as well as teaching full time. I worked sixty or more hours a week. I had no friends, no interests.  In addition to being emotionally exhausting, this overwork doesn’t result in good writing – not in my cas,e at least. Now I get less work done than I would like, but I have a life.

4)    Who are some writers you admire?

Doris Lessing’s The Golden Notebook had a great influence on me at the Workshop. Much of the fiction I was reading then created a rarified and private world. Lessing’s novel encompassed politics, history, psychology, art, feminism – everything. It made me understand that I needed to write about more than myself and my experiences.

I admire Vladimir Nabokov, Gustav Flaubert, Thomas Harris, and J.R.R. Tolkien.  Different as they are, all these writers have created characters of archetypal dimensions. How many people who haven’t read Lolita nonetheless know who Lolita is?  The same is true of Madame Bovary, Hannibal Lector, and Frodo.

 5)    Your next novel is also a thriller. Any idea when we might expect that?

I hope to finish Darkroom by the end of the year. Then I have to decide whether to seek another agent or publish it myself. If I go the traditional route, it would take at least a couple of years for the novel to be published – if I’m immediately successful. 

 6)    Word has it that some of your most fulfilling relationships have been with animals. Tell us about this.

I love animals, love being around them. Growing up, my brother and I had dogs, cats, horses, and birds at one time or another. Now I have a horse named Tucker and a budgie named Westie.  Tucker boards at a nearby farm since my husband prefers to live in town. Westie lives with us and has the run of the house when someone is home. His wings are unclipped, so he flies from room to room and returns to his cage for the occasional pit stop.  Right now he’s perched on the back my chair, saying, “Won’t you kiss me?”

Shortly after we married, Joe and I discovered he was allergic to cats. We had to give up our cat, Harry. That was hard for me. For several years afterward we had no pets, and then a friend who was getting married offered me her budgie because her fiancée disliked the bird. My friend later divorced the guy. He wasn’t nearly as loyal and sweet as Benji.

Another of my budgies, Iggy, took a romantic interest in me and persistently tried to mate with my hand. He was the inspiration for my story “Yubi” about a woman who falls in love with her bird. The story was published in Yellow Silk and is posted on my Web site www.marymaddox.com.

Mary’s novel Talion is available on Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Talion-Mary-Maddox/dp/0984428100/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1279919214&sr=8-3

Serial Killers

Thursday, July 22nd, 2010

My guest blogger today is novelist Mary Maddox. She received her M.A. in Creative Writing from the  Iowa Writer’s Workshop. Below she talks about her novel Talion.

Talion began as a novella about a friendship between teenage girls from very different backgrounds. The story dragged, weighed down by exposition of the characters’ pasts and a present where the conflict arose from their general distrust of one another. Nothing was happening! I came to realize the plot needed a catalyst, a threat that would bring them together or destroy them.

So Conrad (Rad) Sanders entered the story, stalking them, watching them sunbathe at a old dam in the mountains, waiting his chance. The narrative was third person with multiple points of view, and I couldn’t avoid including Rad’s. But his character was so far outside my experience that I couldn’t get very far without doing research on sexual sadism and serial killers.

I didn’t have to look far for material. Serial killers had already been popularized in other fiction, most prominently Thomas Harris’ Silence of the Lambs and his compelling  villain Hannibal Lector, whose powers verged on the supernatural.  It seemed Harris and every other creator of fictional serial killers drew material from the work of the FBI agents who had studied these criminals: Robert Ressler, John Douglas, Roy Hazelwood. These men had spent years tracking, interviewing, and analyzing serial killers. They had written books on the subject, both popular works and criminology texts. After reading these, I moved on to books by police detectives who had worked serial killer cases and books devoted to the crimes of particular notorious criminals: Ted Bundy, John Wayne Gacy, the Zodiac killer, etc.

I came to the conclusion that serial killers are losers. Abused or neglected as children, driven by rage and inadequacy, they lack the capacity for empathy that makes love possible. Yet, like all monsters, they can be fascinating.

Before long, Rad began to take over my novel.

Here is the trailer for Talion:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CGuebw5XdSE

Zalgirio Musis

Sunday, July 18th, 2010

I couldn’t decide whether to write about my mother, who died six years ago today, or the Battle of Grunwald, which occurred 600 years ago on  July 15th.  I’ve written a lot about my mother in the past. She was almost 85 when she died; she’d been suffering from  ovarian cancer for a year. In these past six years I’ve thought about her often, perhaps less so since the book has been accepted and will be coming out soon—I feel I can move on to other themes.  She’s a major focus of White Field, Black Sheep: A Lithuanian-American Life. She would have liked the book (then again, she liked everything I wrote); she comes across (I hope) as funny, loving, smart, and a bit neurotic.   

I’ve also written, very briefly, about the Battle of Grunwald.  When I was in Lithuanian Saturday School, my favorite teacher, Juozas Kreivenas, would talk about the battle  in a steady, confident voice, pausing now and then for effect; we third graders were convinced he’d been there himself. He drew diagrams on the blackboard detailing  how the wily Lithuanians outwitted  the Teutonic Knights. The battle , which we knew as Zalgirio Musis, zal from the work zalias, or green, and girio, from giria,, forest–the same as its German counterpart—was one of the most important events in Lithuanian-Polish history, allowing for the unification of the two countries; they remained a dominating force for several centuries.

I mistakenly typed in Zalgiris instead of Grunwald  when I was looking for more information on the internet; one of the first sites that popped  up was the homepage of the Zalgiris Euroleague Basketball team. Based in Kaunas, Zalgiris, named after the battle, produced a number of great players, including Arvydas Sabonis.  I took this as a sign that there was too much symbolic significance, too many patriotic implications attached to the name (and the event) for me to write anything coherent about it.  

Here are links to two poems that say so much more about the battle than I ever could. The first is an excerpt from Zalgiris, written by Sigitas Geda, one of Lithuania’s greatest poets. It’s written from the viewpoint of the Grand Duke Jogaila and appeared several weeks ago in Draguas. (You have to kind of dig around for it on the site.) It’s in Lithuanian:

http://www.draugas.org/07-03-2010%20PRIEDAS%20DRAUGAS.pdf

 The second is by the Polish poet Oriana Ivy. My friend John Guzlowkski introduced me to her terrific poetry. The poem is called The Two Swords of Grunwald. It’s in English and is thought-provoking from a number of different angles. . .

http://oriana-poetry.blogspot.com/2010/07/battle-of-grunwald-july-15-1410.html

My mother opposed patriotic breast-beating of any kind. She abhorred nationalistic self-congratulations. She loved the poetry of Sigitas Geda, and she would have loved The Two Swords of Grunwald.

Guest blogger: Noel Chi

Thursday, July 15th, 2010

Our special guest today is the lovely and talented Miss Noel Chi. Noel lives at the end of the block with her mother, the artist and professor Jenny Chi. Noel is a smart and happy girl who loves her mother. She also loves My Puppy, Petville, and Happy Pets. She will be starting St. Anthony school soon. She has her own blog.

Here are some questions for Noel.

 1.  How old are you, Noel?

Five years old.

 2.  You are starting St. Anthony School soon. How do you feel about that?

I feel happy. I can’t wait. Let’s roll! I can’t go on the school bus because my mom is worried. Mean kids are everywhere. I am going with her, but I have to take care of myself. It’s a sad, sad thing. But mom is telling me how. Let’s hear it for Effingham!

 3.  Can you swim?

Yes, I love to. It’s one of my favorite times of the day. Here’s my swimming info: Trophies: friendly duckling: be a quack owner and let out a wave. Wave let-out: Let out 200468917 waves without losing a fish-net. Life-o-the-clover. Win the clover to find the clover-cat. Charlie’s collection of shells and basket of kittens: collect the Susie shell. It will give you Charlie’s collection of shells or basket of kittens. Doggie children: children are singing. Why not give them a gift? Collect a Susie shell or a Lana doll and give it to them. C-i-r-c-l-e-a-r-o-u-n-d: children are unicycling. Why not thank them? Thank them by writing a note. Write as you could.

 4.  You went to Chicago. What did you see? What did you like best?

I liked the PLANETARIUM best. I saw millions of tall buildings and hotels. We stayed in one of them, too. In one of them, called the swissotel, there’s lots of doors in the hallway. Filled with a window with a view. We stayed in one of the doors for 2 days. I saw an amazing view out the window. A fairwheel that glows at night, a view of cars with flashing lights, a bridge to cross, a river for boats, a wide street, and many, many buildings. I loved i

5.  What are your favorite foods?

Mac and cheese, toast with cheese. Toast with cheese is great. It’s made with cheese so it’s cheesey. Mac and cheese is cheesey, too. It’s a food made and simply yummy. YEP YEP YEP YEP YEP YEP YEP YEP YEP YEP. Simply yummy, a simply meal.

6.  What toys do you like to play with?

Toy too box, and doll house and Ipod touch. Toy tool box has fun tools. I tell stories with them every single day. My stuff animals always hear them and it cheers them up. My doll house I also tell stories that cheer up my stuff animals. I do traveling stuff with it and Ipod touch is just games.

6.  Tell us about your mother.

I love my mother. We live in Charleston il. Love. Simply, when my music melts my mom’s heart, I open her love box and give her a new one. She teaches me at home. Just love. When she wakes up a stuff animal leaks a peek. I take it to the vet. Love-o-the-Irish on saint Patricks’ day. Lucky Lucky Lucky. Only love. I only have one left!

 7. What do you want to be when you grow up?

A cat owner and a vet. 1. Abby. 2. Lucky. I will take them over to the litterbox for potty, I will put them to bed, I will teach them anything, I and will play with them.

The Weight

Sunday, July 11th, 2010

I’ve gained a lot of weight in the past five years or so, a fact that sometimes frustrates me but most of the time doesn’t make a huge difference in either how I feel physically or how I feel about myself emotionally. I went through a mild depression after the death of my mother and calmed myself with xanax and M and M’s.  The xanax did more harm than the chocolate; sedatives make most action seem extraneous. I sat on the couch and listened to a lot of Mahler and thought about the meaning of life. I got tired of just sitting on the couch and decided to write about my mother, which lead to writing about growing up in Cicero as the daughter of Lithuanian immigrants. Best creative choice I’ve ever made. The book is coming out in October.

The writing got me going in other ways. I began to walk several miles a day. Convinced that running can’t be much harder than walking, I hit the treadmill at the student recreation center. Literally hit the treadmill— with my right leg, resulting in a fracture. I had to wear a removable cast for three months. The cast looked like something an astronaut would wear on the moon if that astronaut also happened to be Big Foot.  

I eat a fairly healthy diet—no fried foods, very little meat, lots of veggies. I don’t drink alcohol or smoke. Sweets are my weakness—chocolate, carrot cake, blueberry muffins. And I like cheese.  In general, though, I eat better than I did in my twenties. And I’m back to exercising. But the weight is slow to come off.  I sometimes eat because food is just there, like a bunch of dimes on the sidewalk.  I would like to approach eating in a Zen kind of way, mindfully.

It shouldn’t be impossible—I write mindfully and knit mindfully and watch the Sox mindfully. Most of the time. Sometimes I speed-knit and make mistakes. And often I yell at the umps on television or try to engage the other team in name-calling. Stupid, I know, because they’re on TV. But if I could eat carrot cake mindfully instead of inhaling it when I’m grading papers, I’d call that progress.

What I Did Today

Wednesday, July 7th, 2010

What I Did Today:

Finished knitting a mitten for Bigfoot. Or Bighand. Had a significant problem with the thumb. Thought of just skipping the thumb. There are fingerless gloves—why not thumbless mittens? Decided that would look stupid. Came upon a great knitting website that helped to clarify the thumb problem: http://www.crazyauntpurl.com/archives/2008/07/mitten thumb_pa.php

Finished an essay about camels called My Dromedary Interest. When I lived in Saudi Arabia I loved watching camels. Essay isn’t really finished, just ready for the Writer Babes to critique.

Voted for Paul Konerko as the final AL player in the All-Star Game at www.whitesox.com. One can vote an endless number of times. Well, not endless—there’s a deadline before the actual game. I voted for ten minutes, probably 50 or so times.

Made Lithuanian cold beet soup. Was pleasantly surprised to find fresh beets in Charleston, Illinois. My happiness was offset by the fact that I could only find low-fat butter-milk. You really need the full-fat kind. Tried to make culinary amends by using more sour cream. I used the recipe on this website: http://lithuanian-recipes.com/saltibarsciai-lithuanian-cold-beet-soup

Sang the Lithuanian anthem at 8:00 pm while taking a walk. It’s national anthem day or something according to friends on FB.  Sang quietly so as not to be arrested.

Tried to do some more writing, but was distracted by Marty playing pool downstairs. Or, rather, speed-pool, a game that involves getting the balls into the holes as quickly as possible. Whenever Marty misses a shot, he swears at the pool-balls, calling them shit-balls.

Wrote in my blog.  Wondered why WordPress won’t let me number my What I Did Today entries.

Kansas City Here We Come

Saturday, July 3rd, 2010

Marty and I drove down to Kansas City Tuesday to watch the White Sox play the Royals. Marty got great tickets spur of the moment for two of the games, right behind the visitors’ dug-out. We could actually see the expression on Ozzie Guillen’s face as he got ejected from Tuesday’s game for arguing with the ump over a missed call.

We were late for the game, speeding from Charleston to get to Kauffman Stadium. We proudly marched in and down to our seats, me in an oversized bright red Blackhawks jersey, Marty in head to toe White Sox black. The KC fans in their baby blue t-shirts looked at us as if we were two pythons entering a puppy store. We continued our alpha fan behavior by screaming at the top of our lungs “Way to go Gavin” and “You show ‘em, Pauly,” booing the ump at every strike call when the Sox were up, and high-fiving each other when Floyd struck out a Royal. An usher asked to see our tickets—apparently, someone had questioned whether we had wormed our way down into the second row, Chicago style.  The White Sox won that game 4-3.

Wednesday we spent the day at the Negro Leagues Museum, a wonderful building in what used to be the bustling heart of the Kansas City African American community. The displays are fantastic, and a number of films deftly and movingly show the integration of the major leagues. I have more respect for the Cubs now just because they’re part of the National League, which was the first to hire a black player—the great Jackie Robinson who played for the Brooklyn Dodgers. The narrator of one of the films compared the National League to the Democrats, the AL to the Republicans during the first five or six decades of organized baseball.  I also didn’t know that Ernie Banks had played for the KC Monarchs, one of the greatest teams in the Negro Leagues.

The second game went less well. We sat behind a family of blue-eyed, tow-headed Royals fans—parents and three young sons. When the KC third basemen tossed a ball into our section, Marty tried to catch it, reaching over the outstretched arms of the little boys to general booing. Luckily, the ball bounced off of Marty and back onto the field. (A cameraman was later able to get a ball for one of the boys.) To make matters worse, we were asked again to show our tickets. This time, however, it was revealed that we had, in fact, been sitting in the wrong section. We moved to our rightful places a few rows to the left, slightly less better seats, humbled. And the Sox were humbled as well, losing a close one. They’d been behind for most of the game, but made it interesting by scoring five runs in the eighth. If they’d had Threets relieve the whole time instead of beginning with Williams, perhaps we could have won.

It was a beautiful evening, and Kauffman Stadium is a gorgeous ball park. The Chicago television station got a shot of Marty and me. (Marty recorded both games at home.) In the shot I’m diligently filling out my score-card, which looks like one of my knitting patterns on speed:  backward K’s, filled in diamonds, 1B’s, 6-4-3’s.  I wonder if I like both baseball and knitting because of my OCD-ish tendencies. By nature I’m an impulsive person, but there’s part of me that craves order, that doesn’t mind doing things over and over, that loves to see patterns emerge and rules followed.

For the most part, I don’t do well in summer. I live in fear that everyone is having more fun, playing volleyball at picnics, flipping burgers at backyard barbeques. I remind myself that I hate both volleyball and barbeques. The true consolations of this exasperating season include long walks in the early morning and watching baseball in the afternoon or evening. And knitting. Nothing is more pleasurable than crafting a sweater and watching the White Sox beat the Twins on television. Unless it’s filling out a score card on a calm warm evening with my husband as two great pitchers—in this case Peavy and Greinke—fight it out on the mound.