Progress Report

I am on Long Island this weekend with Bryan and his parents for Bryan's grandmother's eightieth birthday. In the course of looking through old papers this afternoon, Bryan's dad found some of his old school evaluations. My favorite is from the second grade, in which Mr. Salt writes:

He "carries" and "borrows" very very well and has made huge strides towards doing and understanding the work we've done in times and division.

An adequate appraisal of my husband's schoolwork, and a prophecy about the man he would become.

Feast

Boy Scouts have been doing this for decades. Sure, clean water could transform the lives of many rural populations, but it's the stuff of amateurs. Scouts turn out whole turkeys and coffee cakes in their scotchbox ovens. But then again, my brother's troop also camps with a menu of "pre-breakfast," "breakfast," "lunch," "cocktails," "pre-dinner," and "dinner." Oh, and there are snacks available twenty-four/seven.

"The Half-Mammals of Dixie" by George Singleton

I picked up this book of short stories after looking into the Writers at Work conference, where Singleton will be a part of this summer's faculty.

The stories all take place in the fictional South Carolina town of Forty-Five. The first three stories are told by first-person male narrators recounting an event in their childhood and are simply beautiful. Characters in this collection recur in multiple stories, and by the end of the book one feels as though they've spent some quality time in a very specific locale. Although if you do read the book straight through, you might feel--as I did--that there is one too many flea markets. Although it did make me want to head to a fairgrounds some Saturday morning, and see what I can find.

Sticking One's Neck Out

I've only seen "Throwdown with Bobby Flay" a handful of times, but in none of these episodes have I ever seen him win. The show's premise is that Flay challenges a chef who's an expert in a particular dish (pizza, pad thai, et cetera) to a cook-off. The idea that he could best an expert chef would seem a little arrogant, if Flay didn't work so hard to hone his own skills at the dish, and if he didn't lose so gracefully. I admire his willingness to put himself out there and risk failure. Either he would make a good fiction writer, or I should take up cooking.

"Writers Workshop in a Book" by Alan Cheuse, Lisa Alvarez, and Richard Ford

I purchased this book at Squaw Valley in 2007. At that time, I read a few of the articles and then put it on my bookshelf. At my retreat last week, I was reminded of this book by seeing Debbie's copy.

The book isn't really a "workshop" in any sense of the word. Rather, the essays (given orally at the conference over its forty years, and then transcribed for this book) are pep talks on all aspects of writing. Plot, description, setting. And stories of triumph. Like Michael Chabon's "Wrecked," in which he talks about letting go of a five-year, 1,500-page manuscript, and writing the superb Wonder Boys.

I am most thankful for Diane Johnson's essay, "How to Write a Novel," in which she gives writers permission to count pacing and staring out the window as a productive writing day.

Kewll?

Michelle Panik. Fiction writer. ESL teacher-in-training. And now, clairvoyant.

I would forthwith like to predict the cultural backlash against Facebook, Twitter, My Space, and all the other social networking websites. It has all become too much.

Perhaps you've seen CNN's midday show, where the news crawler contains not media updates (which are lame anyway, but that's for another blog post) but Tweets and other types of social networking correspondences.

From this afternoon, while I was enjoying a beautiful bowl of tofu cashew curry:

"meede: I turn on TV & WOW. DOW over 8000! Obama gift sign of 21st Century Pres! Kewll Obamas did us proud as knew they would"

(Yes, I did pause my TV and transcribe this.)

I hope I'm not the only person who feels this way, but when I'm looking for news, I don't want it from someone identified only as "zrreal" or "malignanttooma." The smartest economists in the world don't know for sure what any sort of recovery plan do; surely "SuperDPS" doesn't have the answer, although he may have a G-20 conspiracy theory.

One Week

I missed a lot of news while in the boonies last week.

Upon returning to Debbie's house and her Chronicle subscription, I found out Howard Junker decided not to retire. Thanks for reneging, Howard.

And a really wicked hive of killer bees got frisky with an elderly couple. Luckily the couple was friskier, and they survived.

But at least one thing didn't change: Diego's still hanging out in the bay. What can I say? San Diego's a place you don't want to leave.