For Jews, this is a very special time of year. As I sat in Rosh Hashanah services on Monday, and my 9-year-old niece commented on one of the more remarkable moments in the Holy Day liturgy–the Unetenah Tokef–I was reminded again of an essay I wrote many autumns ago that is grounded in that liturgy. It’s an essay I’ve shared here on the blog before. But this seems to be an appropriate time to share it again.
Monday brings the weekly batch of no-fee contests/competitions and paying gigs for those of us who write (especially those of us who write fiction, poetry, and creative nonfiction).
In an essay I wrote several years ago, I mentioned how in some ways, I’ve been drawn to a life–the writing-and-publishing life–for which I am temperamentally unsuited. And that’s because two of the things I have always found most challenging are these: rejection and waiting.
As the essay notes, rejection has become much easier with time and experience. But I’m afraid that the patience project is still something more of a work-in-progress. It’s not merely a matter of waiting for the acceptance/rejection decisions. I’m also filled with anticipation (and, sometimes, anxiety) when I know that a new piece has found a home and–yes, after another wait–will be meeting readers.
At the moment, I have a lot that I’m looking forward to sharing:
On the anxiety side (mixing in a dash of that good old fear-of-rejection), there’s the AWP proposal I’m waiting to hear about. The Grub Street seminar I’m hoping to fill. And some other things I’ll tell you about as soon as I can.
I just have to keep working on that patience thing, right?
What’s notable on your writing-and-publishing horizons? Please share with us, in comments.
Monday brings the weekly batch of no-fee contests/competitions and paying gigs for those of us who write (especially those of us who write fiction, poetry, and creative nonfiction).
Last Friday on this blog, and on My Machberet, I linked to a new piece of mine that had just appeared on The Forward‘s Arty Semite blog. Titled “Remembering Munich, in Fact and Fiction,” the brief essay references ongoing calls for a moment of silence to take place at the impending ceremony that will open the 2012 Olympics, a moment in memory of the 11 Israeli athletes who were murdered at the Munich Summer Games 40 years ago. It also presents some of the “backstory” surrounding “Homecomings,” one of the stories in my short-story collection, Quiet Americans.
What happened in Munich 40 years ago is part of that story. The central characters, Nelly and Josef Freiburg, German Jews who immigrated to the United States in the 1930s, return to Europe for the first time in 1972–and their trip overlaps with the Summer Games. I began writing “Homecomings” when I was an MFA student, and in the “Arty Semite” post I recall some distressing comments that emerged when the story was workshopped.
“Homecomings” isn’t available online, but I’ve recently recorded two brief excerpts (in a single audio file) that you can hear by clicking here. (FYI: “Simone” is a French relative with whom Nelly and Josef are staying. Everything else should be easy enough to follow. And by the way, my recording skills are quite new–you’ll hear more about that sometime soon.)
I’ve been thinking about this sad anniversary all summer, and thinking about the victims and their families. You can be sure that Munich will be on my mind on Friday, when the opening ceremony takes place. I’m immensely grateful to Bob Costas, who has promised that even if the International Olympic Committee refuses to give 60 seconds of silence to the murdered athletes then, he will do so.
May these London Games open, take place, and close in peace.