The Key(s) to Writer's Block

My writing routine includes a Mac book and an empty Word document. Slowly, but surely, the screen intermittently fills with letters, creating a peppered portrait. At least that's what used to happen before you came along, Writer's Block. Ever since my release from college a month ago I've undergone a painful case of writer's block. It's time for confrontation.

Dear Writer's Block,

I've tried everything: changing my atmosphere, hosting writing workshops on my porch, reading, doodling, listening to the radio, book clubs, events, and writing (gasp). The change in atmosphere only creates a drifting mind and, when applicable, intense sessions of people-watching and inner dialogue. Writing workshop turns into a wine manifesto, events are fun but mindless, and writing turns into illegible babble.

What else can I do, Writer's Block?

Buy a typewriter, you say? Why yes, a quaint typing machine that clicks and clacks should do the trick. A vintage toy that makes the sweetest of sounds, is irresistible to touch and impossible to ignore. Typewriters don't have Facebook or Google. Typewriters don't have iTunes or colorful, distracting screens. Typewriters help you get right to the point ... Write. To. The. Point.

Thank you, Writer's Block, for understanding. I'm currently waiting, rather impatiently, to pick up a vintage Underwood - the kind that Kerouac once used. My fingers eagerly await their unborn masterpiece.

Yours truly,
Alexandra

P.S For more information on typewriters and which authors used what, click here. Joan Didion used a Royal KMM, William Faulker used an Underwood, and Joyce Carol Oates used an SCM Smith Corona Electra. The site also directs you to your nearest typewriter store. Fingers, rejoice!

Best. Gift. Ever.

A move from one apartment to another made me realize how extensive my book collection got. As I moved my books from a box to the windowsill I looked at each one individually - scanning my eyes over the covers, flipping through the pages of folds, highlights and notes. Each book sparked a memory whether I bought it, found it, or received it.

The best gift to get (and give) is a book with a personal message written inside. There’s something so telling about books as gifts. Just this weekend I was reminded of that delightful feeling when my friend and I went to the Printer’s Row Lit Fest in Chicago. As we fingered through piles of used books he grabbed “Everything is Illuminated.”

“I’m buying you this,” he said, not even asking if I read or owned it. Later as we sat over a pre-5 o’clock pitcher of sangria he opened the book to its front-page and began to write.

“Don’t read it until later,” he said closing the cover and slipping it into my purse. I was all kinds of excited. I played fair and waited until I got home.

“It’s a rainy day in June. We bought this book a few hours ago and when I think about it I can’t help but feel excited about what you’re going to read. I hope you enjoy it; there’s more feeling and innocence and love in these words than you’ll have time to appreciate. Enjoy.”

Yes, I teared up. Why? Because I’m a girl and sometimes girls cry about weird things. But come on … words are the indeed the best gift. Anybody have a similar experience?

Will Work for Free ... but Not for Long

I thought of my favorite magazine while I was cleaning my toilet this afternoon. Let me explain.


I’m finishing the last year of my undergrad career – pursuing a journalism degree with a concentration in magazine publishing. Internships are encouraged; however, most of us know that interns, aka office baristas, often feel awkward, inadequate and work for free.

When I discovered my favorite magazine’s main office was minutes from my house, I inquired about an intern position. I went to storefront events, chatted with the publisher, and applied. Days later, I was hired.

The first day I shipped and posted back issues. The second day I removed subscription cards (a foreshadowing event). The third day I cleaned the bathrooms. Yes, there was more than one. (I did not reveal my cleaning skills on my resume, but thanks to childhood chores, Mr. Clean and I are acquaintances.)

So, there I was. In the bathroom and away from the hustle and bustle of magazine layout. As I scrubbed stale piss off the toilet seats, feelings of resentment surfaced. Careful to keep my fingers on the soaked sponge and off the foul surface, I played out the absurdity of the situation in my head. I looked at my reflection in the cleanly Windexed mirror and it happened: I had lost respect for my favorite magazine.

The articles, interviews, and photography will always glean on the glossy pages, but every time I scrub a porcelain throne, I will always remember the belittlement I felt that day. Needless to say, I am no longer with them and they are no longer with us.

I now intern at a publication that allows me to write, which is milestones away from wiping urine off of strange places.

One day for a blog post I wrote, “As much as we love Barbie, we think it’s best that she stay off the runway and at the Dream House,” in reference to Barbie making an appearance at NY’s Fashion Week. The editor jogged out of her office. “We. Don’t. Love. Barbie,” she barked. “But I like that you used the word “Stepford” so I kept some of it,” she said, walking away. I swallowed my self-worth and hit the ‘delete’ button. Note to self: Be ultra-fem. Hate Barbie.


As much as I’m looking forward to leaving school and entering the “real” world, I so much want to stay in school’s safe haven where I can love Barbie and use the toilet, not clean it. Who knew internships would bring back such painful childhood memories?

Spread the Word(s)

While fishing around Craigslist for writing gigs, free coffee tables, and volunteer work, I stumbled across a program called Chicago Books to Women in Prison. By donating any (paperback) books to the program, incarcerated women in prisons nationwide will be given the chance to read. Their site states that they "hear over and over that rehabilitation is not a priority, and prison libraries tend to be dismal, if they exist at all."

So, as much as you love your books, (believe me ... the whole trying-to-start-a-library project is all too familiar) why not browse your bookshelves and donate to women in need? Chances are, someone who hasn't read "The Catcher in the Rye" will appreciate it more than you will the third time around. Besides, Amazon always has great deals if you can't live without it.

Here's your chance! Loosen your grip on that history book from freshman year of college and use that rainy day to see a movie instead. Come on ... who do you think you're kidding anyway?


Their blog reads:

We are still (as always) in need of:

PAPERBACK ONLY!

1. Dictionaries
2. Composition books
3. Daily Meditations
4. GED prep books, especially math
5. Urban fiction
6. Books on drug or alcohol recovery
7. Yoga or exercise books
8. Health books for HIV positive people
9. Books on Wicca
10. Books on racism and/or mass imprisonment
11. Blank journals

Contact Information:
Chicago Books to Women in Prison
c/o Beyondmedia Education
4001 N. Ravenswood Ave #204C
Chicago, IL 60613

chicagobwp@hotmail.com

Happy Donating!

White Suit in the White City

Best-selling author and journalist Tom Wolfe made an appearance Thursday as “The Right Stuff” was selected for The Chicago Public Library’s One Book, One Chicago program this fall.

I must admit, I feel somewhat perverse writing a blog about him after he said tersely in an interview with journalist Carol Marin, “Blogs fascinate me…they’re a new world for people who will believe anything.” Believe me when I say meeting Tom Wolfe was truly an unforgettable experience.

After much discussion, Marin finally got to the question everyone’s been dying to know, “What’s with the white suit?” Anybody who knows anything about Wolfe knows he’s famous for wearing a white suit and fedora during any appearance.

Wolfe said the white suit is “the man from Mars” approach. He said he never blended in with the crowd and wearing the white suit provides a barrier between himself and his subjects, as he has reported a variety of subjects from NASCAR drivers, to Black Panthers, to Ken Kesey and the Merry Pranksters, to the first men to launch into outer space – just to name a few. He described it as “The man who doesn’t know anything and is eager to know.”

His opinion of modern authors who have “the right stuff” are Carl Hiaasen (Strip Tease) and Richard Price (The Wanderers). You better believe I rearranged my book list. Any advice from the pioneer of the New Journalism movement is worthy advice by me.

The turnout of One Book, One Chicago was an expected 700. Audience members were given a numbered ticket, and mine was 249. The adoring crowd waiting nearly an hour as numbers one through 50 paid their dues while eager-to-please Wolfe allowed photos and small talk as he signed book after book.

Tired and grouchy, I waited it out, determined to meet the author who takes up a good portion of my bookshelf. I went to the restroom to contemplate whether to stay or leave, when the angels above must have heard my silent pleas. A ticket with the number “49” was laying on the tiled restroom floor. No more than a minute passed and I was back out in the corridor waiting in line for my book to be signed.

My copy of The Right Stuff was bought years ago from a used bookstore. The cover page was hanging on its last thread and when I finally handed my shabby copy to him—yellow weathered pages and all—he said, “Wow, this is one loved book. Authors like to see this.” As he closed it, the cover fell off in his hands. Needless to say, though sad and broken, I will never rid of my beloved copy of The Right Stuff.







*Sidenote : I found myself in line with The Huffington Post's Greg Boose. Read his piece on whether Wolfe thinks McCain or Obama has "the right stuff". You'll find me at the bottom of the posted pictures!