Sunday, February 28, 2010

Wrench

Well, God has thrown a wrench in things.

When I got home from the AML Annual Meeting, I found a slim envelope waiting for me from the BYU Graduate Studies Department. I knew there was trouble as soon as I saw it—long experience has taught me that slim envelopes mean rejection.

And I was right. BYU is very sorry to inform me that I have not been selected to enter the Creative Writing MFA program. However, I have been put on the alternate list.

I was, well, perplexed.

First, I’ll admit it. I thought I was a pretty strong candidate. I have good GRE scores, strong (I assume) letters of recommendation, a portfolio consisting of almost 100% previously-published stuff. Where’s the problem? Yeah, there’s room for improvement, but that’s what school is FOR, right? Maybe it’s my undergrad degree, which is in Humanities, not English. But I really hadn’t thought that would be a problem, since I have the required pre-requisite classes.

But second, and MUCH MORE IMPORTANT: I was very stunned because I have felt all along nothing but peace about this decision. I really have felt that God was good with this and that all would be well. Even now I don’t feel a sense of panic or despair because that feeling is still there. I don’t know if it just means that I’ll still make it in from the alternate list or if it means that God has something else for me interesting to do next year. But it’s weird to have felt so settled and now not know why.

I can’t deny that God has always led me through in the best possible way. When I couldn’t conceive as soon as I wanted to, when we didn’t go to the medical school we had hoped for, through all sorts of moves and job changes—things have always, in retrospect, worked out for the best, even (and perhaps especially) when it has been a surprise and what seemed a disappointment. I still have absolute faith that all will be well for me this fall.

Still, I can’t help wondering what I’ll do with myself if I don’t get in. I had been sort of using this as my solace for winter, a season that is very hard for me. “Just get through this winter,” I tell myself. “Next winter will fly because you’ll be so busy in classes.”

Granted I still have another application that I haven’t heard about, but that one has always been a long shot. The U, from what I can tell, has a reputation of being much more difficult to get into than the Y, especially if you have BYU on your application as your undergrad school. It’s ironic that the U doesn’t like BYU undergrads—and neither does the Y (or, rather, I’ve heard that publication in LDS-oriented magazines caries no weight, and maybe even works against you, in the BYU selection process). Someone who likes to write in a non-critical way about Mormon life can claim a disadvantage at both schools.

So there you have it.

Edited to add: Well, when I wrote all this it was true. And it still is true. But I can't say I haven't had my moments of fear and tears. What if this is it? What if it is really it? What if I never get in? This is something I never had supposed. All my young motherhood life I have been looking forward to returning to school. I can't stand the thought of never, never going back. Of course, I'll try again. But meanwhile, what will I do with myself? I can't beleive how much of my life this feeling that I'd get back to school would be. When my manuscripts get rejected and I wonder if I'll ever get a book published, I think, "It doesn't matter that much; I'm going to school." When I don't feel like I'm writing as well as I want to be, I think, "Well, I'll learn how to make this better in school."

What would I do without that? I don't want to find out.

Thursday, February 25, 2010

Packing, unpacking

Hello, long lost blog. I haven’t really missed you. Obviously. But I HAVE missed my readers. It's so nice to get notifications of comments, like little love-notes, little butterflies dropping into my hair (excuse me while I wax poetic; cue the flute). Anyway, if anyone is still out there, thanks for checking up on me. I’m still alive and actually doing quite well.

When I got married, the amount of writing I did in my personal journal went way down. It was because I had someone else to tell all those things to. (Poor guy.) My erratic blogging is similar—-you can tell when my postings go down that things are going quite well. (Or quite badly, I suppose. Only this time it’s good.) My excuse: I’ve just been concentrating on being present in my life. Which means a decrease in the amount of mental narration I’ve been doing. A good thing, this decrease. It’s been healthy.

But I like you, little blog, so don’t despair. Here I am for a visit.

I’ve been having dreams about packing. Two of them in a row, one morning. I’m carrying baggage around, and somehow I get tripped up and things spill out, and there is an urgent need to get things cleaned up, repacked, and move along.

What could it mean? Is it symbolic of the sort of sad nostalgia I’ve been feeling the last few weeks at the realization that, truly, my children are no longer small? I have been catching sight of babies, toddlers, pre-schoolers in commercials on TV, at the grocery store, etc. Each time I stop and force myself to analyze why I’m noticing children. I send a sinker down into my soul to sound the depths: “Am I baby hungry?” The answer always comes back, “No. I am completely done with that.”

Then what?

I think it’s that I am just remembering those days fondly. That’s all.

There’s also the fact that a Huge Birthday is coming up. And I’m feeling it. Physically, emotionally. I'm beginning, finally, to feel like a grown-up.

There is also the strange phase of life I am in with my work—done with my novel, waiting to start school in the fall. I am putting off starting any other big writing projects, and instead spending my time tying up loose ends, trying to finish off projects that I’ve been putting off. Organizing the genealogy, for example, which has been surprisingly enjoyable. Getting the photos into albums. (We don’t say the s___pbook word around here.) I guess this business is a sort of packing up of things.

Whatever it is, I’m OK with it. I like where I am, like my life. Physically, I’m still a little under but nothing I can’t deal with. I’m having a life. So picture me here, packing and unpacking but not anxious to be moving anywhere. I’m here, and it’s good.

Wednesday, February 03, 2010

Book Report--January

So I'm determined to report my reading monthly this year instead of those huge yearly reports. I did a lot of reading in January, especially after I finished my book. YES! I finished my novel! As in, all completely done. As in, it has reached my satisfaction. The only revisions I'll do from here on out will be those requested by agents and editors (if I should be so lucky). It feels SOOOOOOO good to reach a point where I can let it go. I feel it has achieved the measure of its creation now and I can move on.

So . . . reading.

POETRY/ESSAY/MEMOIR
Best of Mormonism 2009 edited by Stephen Carter. I would have liked this better if I hadn't already read many of the pieces. I wonder what it would be like to read it all fresh. I especially enjoyed Lance Larsen's essay.

Donkey Gospel by Tony Hoagland. I really like Hoagland, and reading him again now made me happy and reminded me that I really do want to be a poet. Some of his poetry is a little too hairy for me to recommend, but I have many, many corners folded down in this collection. I especially liked his poem about Berkeley. I've been trying to write one about Berkeley for years, but now I don't have to because he did it so well.

JF/YA
Bud, Not Buddy by Christopher Paul Curtis. This one was a little slow getting started for me. I enjoyed the voice, though, and the details. About an orphaned boy who goes looking for his father and ends up with a combo jazz band.

FICTION
Old School by Tobias Woff. The BEST thing I've read all year (well, along with The Help and Olive Kitteridge). I can't think of a book more perfect for me, really. It's about a boys' boarding school in the northeast in the 60s which has several writing contests each year. The winner of each contest gets to meet with a visiting author. The authors who visit this particular year are Robert Frost, Ayn Rand, and Ernest Hemingway. Great! Wish it had been twice as long. I'm grateful to my friend Jenny for recognizing it as being perfect for me. It's funny how much I associate books with the people who recommend them. Jenny also recommended The Spirit Catches You and You Fall Down years ago. Similarly, I still remember who recommended The Poisonwood Bible to me (Liz), the short stories of Wallace Stegner (Kathryn), and others from years and years ago.

19th Wife by David Ebershoff. Actually, I didn't read it; I listened to it. And I have to confess that I didn't finish it. It might not have been so negative of an experience if the narrator hadn't been so awful. A harsh, sarcastic-sounding woman who practically spit out all her words narrated large portions of it and I finally couldn't stand to listen to her any more. I don't have a problem hearing about the negative things in church history, actually. But I just got tired of the downer-ness of this.

Girl with a Dragon Tattoo by Steig Larsson. This is a translation from Swedish and is apparently a big book this year. It was quite gripping, although a little yucky in places, and had an interesting twist at the end. I wouldn't read another by him but it was entertaining. About a financial journalist who investigates a very old unsolved murder.

The Namesake by Jumpha Lahiri. I really enjoy Lahiri's style, her way of lingering on details about her characters. Reading her makes me a better writer without sacrificing entertainment. Her work is very character driven. This one was about a boy who is named after the Russian author Gogol but doesn't discover why until adulthood.