Time (and Bread) as a Circle
Hello Friends,
Apologies to any of you who asked me how my summer was. Maybe I lied and said "good!" in the way we are supposed to, or I gave you the "fine" version, or you got the earful of its bumps and rough edges. Writing keeps me sane, and summer isn't kind to my writing schedule. I'm happy to be in this semi-busted* return to the classroom zone.
But even before my full-time writing life, before kids, I've always been one of those people who sees fall as the start of the year. Maybe because I always loved school as a kid, and am wholly devoted to the promise of a fresh office supply (a pen, a notebook, a pack of index cards), or perhaps it's just that first relief of not sweating in denim (long live the pocket of a jean jacket), but fall is the season when I feel the most possibility before me.
It's also the Jewish new year, Rosh Hashanah. The secular New Year has never done it for me, even as I understand the need for cleaving time, for that split that helps you think, that was then, this will be now. Everything is still in the midst of death that is winter, and there's too much pressure to reinvent oneself during a time most of us want to hibernate. Fall has forward motion.
My husband and I usually host Rosh Hashanah dinner, and we did last night ---17 in our NYC apartment, without a dishwasher, someone give us a medal, or at least perfect the design of disposable silverware, please---and though we go light on the religion for this occasion, there are a number of symbols that speak to me around this holiday. There's tashlikh, which is a ritual of atonement---usually marked by throwing one's sins into a large body of water, often with bread as the symbol of the sins. But a few years ago my kids came back from services with my husband and said they did it by writing down what they wanted to let go of from the previous year and allowing the paper to dissolve in a bowl of water, and we repeated this act at home. I love this idea of letting go, of an attempt at least, to release, and to think of oneself as capable of doing so. And yet, too, the challah is typically round for this holiday, and that circle represents a year, and I like this, this reminder to stop and reflect and mark a moving forward but not to pretend, as it seems the secular New Year does, that you can simply abandon what has come before. You have to think about what you want to carry with you into the next cycle, should you be so lucky to have one.
*First full week of school is the end of this month. I also cleaned up puke the afternoon my kids went back to school. So that's how that's going.
Reading, Thinking, Feeling
I'm also headed back to the classroom at the end of this month, returning to Catapult to teach an advanced fiction workshop (sold out, but watch this space for future classes). Prepping means I've been diving into story collections. Some recent gems I'm eyeing to teach from: Jamel Brinkley's A Lucky Man, Nick White's Sweet & Low, Samantha Hunt's The Dark Dark, Jamie Quatro's I Want to Show You More.
This essay poked me right in the don't-tell-me-what-to-feel sore spot that happens every year around my birthday. Mine was in August, and it was also 40, though I feel this way about every birthday, honestly. If you want to wish me a happy one, might I suggest instead you go buy my book for a friend who maybe also really hates being told what to do? Thanks. Of course I read this and also this highly amusing send up of the same phenomenon while on a break from from Twitter and Instagram. I'll be back. Feel free to text me your sweet animal photos while I'm away. It's the only thing I am missing.
So late to this party, but my kids were sick as the school year began (of course) and we finally started the Great British Baking Show, which is as delightful and soothing as everyone says it is. It's also re-activiated my baking urges. I still stand by this tweet/concept, though I also have to say that the show also activated my urge to write about baking, so maybe that's progress, though even writing about baking feels like procrastibaking in its own way.
Where to Find Me
Speaking of circles, I'll be returning to my graduate program at the University of Michigan on Thursday, September 20th, to read with Esmé Weijun Wang and to meet with students. I'll also be on the radio! Live! Wish me luck (aka no cursing) on that. The reading is open to the public, and I'll be on air on Wednesday, September 19th, from 5-6pm, on wcbn.org.
On Friday, September 28th, at 7pm, I'll be joining in this celebration of the 150th anniversary of Little Women hosted by Maris Kreizman at Books Are Magic.
A way's out, but in March, 2019, I'll be headed to AWP. A little explainer for those of you unfamiliar with the conference here. It's so far off, but not too early for all of us to freak out that there is no official convention hotel, which is basically a freak out that there is no designated hotel bar. I'm sure we'll make do. I'll be staying close to Powell's, so all is well.
Working on my novel.
Talk soon,
Danielle