Yesterday I got a text from my friend Ben. “Now I know why writers live in cities,” he said. “Buses are full of characters.”
Ahhh, cityscape: buses, coffee lines, sports bars, public libraries, and outdoor concerts are chock full of round characters and curious actions. Lucky for me, I’ve mostly lived in and traveled to urban places. A nun riding a bicycle in NYC’s Central Park? A policeman chasing a hoodlum in the red light district of Sydney? A homeless person camped out with a hot blond under a lifeguard tower in LA? I’ve both seen it and ‘scened’ it: those images have catalyzed stories.
Ben’s text made me wonder. What would I write about without the urban inspiration of witnessing a near smackdown on the Broadway bus, or teaching an elderly woman how to text message in a Starbucks? Would wasps and mice carcasses turn into my loony tune characters, and pollination and decay into my action? Would I be a more attentive writer and a more patient person? Or would my prose grow flat and devoid of the zaniness I like to call my own?
Maybe I need to go on a camping writing retreat to find out. As long as there was a Park Ranger with a pet ferret to write about.
“My hands are covered in cream cheese!” my friend Joe says as he answers the phone. “What’s up?”
It’s a Sunday morning and I’m calling Joe to see why he’s a half hour late to our writing group. Given his close proximity with dairy products, I’m guessing he’s not on his way. When I remind him about our session he immediately apologizes. “I can’t believe I forgot!” he says. “You’ll have to let me make it up to you.”
Halfway through my last class at the Story Studio, I decided I wanted to share the joy of work shopping with my non-studio friends. I figured yet another writer’s community could nicely complement the class sessions by providing an additional forum to practice writing and reading. After getting two friends on board, we started meeting weekly at one of our apartments. Now every Sunday we nibble on muffins or fruit, chat about our Friday nights, and then get down to business: work shopping each others’ pieces, doing free writes, and chatting about upcoming literary events.
My past writers’ groups have crumbled because the standards were too high: the moment one of us didn’t arrive with a piece or forgot to show up, we figured we were doomed for failure. However, the current writer’s group is working because we embrace our limitations; it’s okay, perhaps even expected, that we can’t write or show up every week.
A week later Joe takes me out of ice cream to make up for his absence. I don’t think this is necessary, but I never turn down a scoop of peanut butter chocolate chip. When he tries to apologize again, I put my hand on his arm. “We’re writers,” I say. “It would be a crime to be perfect.”
Young Chicago Authors is teaming up with the Chicago Symphony Orchestra for what promises to be an amazing night of teen artistry. The evening will feature students from TEAM Englewood Community High School who will perform their spoken word poetry to the sounds of a Civic Orchestra string quartet, directed by Osvaldo Golijov of the Chicago Symphony Orchestra.
I’ve had the privilege of hearing some of TEAM Englewood’s spoken word and slam poetry when I attended the Louder Than a Bomb semi-finals this spring. It is really something special - these teens are not only amazingly honest and expressive, but also have some serious writing chops. I cannot even imagine how moving their poetry will be when set against music from the CSO. Regardless if you’re a spoken word fan, a CSO fan or just a fan of creative education - definitely check out this event. I’m guessing there won’t be a dry eye in the house.
The event is happening Wednesday, June 16th at 4.30pm at the Symphony Center (Buntrock Hall: 220 South Michigan Ave). And guess what else: It’s Free.
A few weeks ago I posted a blog about the different reading series that go on around our great city. However, it seems I may have left out a really awesome (and brand spankin’ new) reading series hosted by veteran storyteller Ian Belknap. You may (or certainly may not) remember Ian from his one man show at the Neofuturists Theater entitled ‘Wide Open Beaver Shot of My Heart: A Comedy with a Body Count.” Let’s just say this man is pretty out there.
I had the opportunity to speak with Ian earlier this week, and let me just say, I think his new reading series is about to blow up (or at least I’m hoping it does). The new series is called Write Club, and it will be held at The Hideout on Tuesday, July 20th at 6pm (stay tuned - the series isn’t a monthly yet, but I’m guessing it soon will be).
Here’s the premise: Two writers. Two opposing topics. Seven minutes tops. Essentially, Ian gives the writers a 1-word prompt (for example: Light v. Dark or Hell v. Heaven) and the writers have exactly seven minutes to expound on the theme. After seven minutes a bell rings. If the writer isn’t done - too bad! Oh and I have mentioned the whole thing is in the same competitive vein as Fight Club, so after the 14 minute bout the audience gets to choose a winner (by way of clap-o-meter, naturally).
I was lucky enough to catch the inaugural Write Club back in January, when Ian hosted writers like Jonathan Messinger (Book editor at Time Out Chicago) and Christopher Piatt (Former theater editor at Time Out and now the host of The Paper Machete reading series) at Prop Thtr. The whole night was a blast, and I was really disappointed when I thought the series had faded into oblivion. But it’s back now with a vengeance, and I highly suggest anyone with a fear of soporific, dull reading series check it out. Ian believes in throwing some competition into the reading series concept (a la slam poetry) and I do think the tactic serves both him and his audience. Plus it’s just fun to see what skillful writers do with a 1-one prompt like “hell.”
Most of us come into contact with creepers. The man on the bus who fondles his grocery bags as he stares past your eyes. The grizzled woman who follows you around at Walmart and puts the exact same things in her shopping cart. The person you met once at a party but who now visits your Facebook profile daily.
What defines a creeper, exactly? Someone who is more weird than “socially awkward” yet less threatening than a “pervert.” Someone who stares too long, who lurks by himself, who doesn’t take the social cue to mind his own business.
Here’s the problem. I think I might be one of them.
And, furthermore, that it’s necessary to be a good writer.
In order to gain story fodder, I let my eyes and ears linger longer than appropriate. If I’m next to you on the train, I will write down what I see in your grocery bags. If I’m sitting behind you at the Cub’s game, I won’t look away when you lick your girlfriend’s neck. If I overhear you say that you still wear day of the week panties, I’ll turn around to see your face. I don’t even wear sunglasses to hide what I’m doing anymore.
This brings up a question: is creeperness limited to those with perverse intentions, or can creeperness be used for a good cause (such as writing a killer story)? Can I eavesdrop for telling character traits and dialogue snippets without mothers telling their children to stay away from the looney, or is this a necessary fate?
For now, I think it’s worth it. See you on the train.
