Iris Murundefined116122.undefined116123.undefined116124.undefined116731.undefined213152.doch’s
A Word Child
by Rachel King

A charming novel. Put briefly, it’s about Hilary Burde, a middle-aged clerk, who is trying to come to terms with his past. The novel is ordered by days of the week and, because Hilary lives according to routines, the same things happen over and over on the same days, with different twists. By the end, I felt as though I was reading a Shakespearean comedy/tragedy: some people aren’t who they seem, others are marrying unexpectedly/two main characters die tragically, another improves but is perpetually unsatisfied. If, like me, you read contemporary literature because you think you should know your future competitors but you’d secretly rather be reading the classics, then this book is for you. And it was published in the 1970s so you don’t even have to feel too guilty.

On a Rooftop, Shout it Out: Meeting the New MFA
by Connie Pan

Sometimes our greatest talent can be a curse. That period of time between receiving the acceptance letter from Mark Brazaitis and the first workshop, I was alone with the thing that got me here: my imagination. In my imagination, there were hobgoblin peers that crossed out my lines with their six-inch nails. I had daymares that my writing was a joke, that the only good idea I ever had was my portfolio, and I feared I was a fiction-hack. Then, it was August, and workshop was lovely. My peers had pleasant faces and well-kept fingernails. Then, it was the MFA Meet and Greet (an annual tradition) and I thought, I can definitely be friends with these rad people who can write, cook, and converse. Then, I eased slowly into this strange place that rejects grid-maps and swears by pepperoni rolls, and, a year later, it’s not so strange anymore.

To think, just last summer, I received that magic envelope that helped tame some of my fears. (Every year, The Council of Writers, otherwise known as COW, compile envelopes with letters to the new MFAs complete with bios and pictures of current second and third years, menus for local restaurants, and brochures for historical sites and landmarks.) Now, this past summer, I was a part of COW and scribbled notes on postcards and licked envelopes that would hopefully ease our soon-to-be-peers’ minds. I think we were talking about how much we loved receiving that envelope, and Lisa Beans suggested we ease the incoming MFAs’ nerves furthermore by having an informal reading before school started to qualm jitters and wild imaginations before the first day of workshops. That feeling was still new in our memories: the sensation of always having bile ready and threatening in the throat. (It stops. I promise—unless you have undiagnosed acid reflux.)

So, being the sympathetic feelers that we are, we planned it, and what started as an informal reading, turned into a sorta fairytale. Rachel King, COW President, made some calls, and The COW Street Team (Lisa Beans, Rebecca Thomas, Matt London, Justin Crawford, and I) spread the word. Then, there we were: on the rooftop of Hotel Morgan, at the swanky Montemarte with white tablecloth, string lights, and a hummingbird among friends, professors, loved ones, and MFAs: alumni, current, and incoming. One by one, we retrieved those sweaty pages of our words crumpled in our hands, folded in our pockets or shoved in our purses and man satchels, and introduced ourselves and what we would be sharing during our stay here: our words. And, now that the first year MFAs are settling into their new places here, they have taken the time to string together some words to introduce themselves to you!

CREATIVE NON-FICTION

Rebecca Doverspike joins us from a small town in southern Wisconsin. She graduated from Beloit College in 2007 where she studied literature and religious studies. During that time, she also studied Buddhism with Tibetan refugees in Sikkim, India. Rebecca’s interest in meditation, relationships between people and place, spirituality, and wilderness all find their way into her creative non-fiction essays. She’s working toward writing as a way of giving back, a tangible form of gratitude, a way of reflecting the beauty and magic she’s seen in the people she has met that they may not always see themselves. She’s inspired and influenced by many different writers such as: Mary Oliver, Dogen, Virginia Woolf, Gabriel Garcia Marquez, Annie Dillard, and Rebecca Solnit, to name just a few.

Jessi Kalvitis, nonfiction writer, wouldn’t mind spending eighteen hours per day in her garden, but a) she lives in USDA growing zone 5-ish with no greenhouse, and b) writing is the obsession in which she had taken more undergraduate courses. She is a firm believer in the power of Stickee notes, thought Stephen King was underrated before it was cool (and still does, now that it’s not again), and likes to structure sentences around lists of three unrelated things. She is offering spider plant starts to anyone who wants one—inquire at 309 Colson during her office hours, which are currently 4 to 6 p.m. on Mondays and Wednesdays.

FICTION

Nathan Holmes grew up in Howard County, Maryland, and lived in Baltimore City for a year before coming to grad school here at WVU. He’s an avid writer, but he swears, he doesn’t read as much as he should. He mostly writes speculative fiction, and the vast majority of it ends up in a folder entitled “the x-files” along with all of the other unfinished, unloved offspring of his imagination. Most never see the light of day again. He thinks writer’s block is a myth. He lives alone, which is good because he’s a super neat-freak and he typically sleeps all day and stays up all night. His dog doesn’t play fetch (more out of stubbornness than anything else). He downloads unbelievable amounts (like worried-about-the-FBI amounts) of music and movies. He likes ancient mythology, and he likes to read about cults and “new religions” (and mainstream religions for that matter). His favorite shows are Archer and Californication and he promises, “If you haven’t seen them, do yourself a favor.”

Jessi Lewis is a native of Virginia and an alumna of James Madison University’s Writing and Rhetoric program. While she claims influences of magical realism, Appalachian literature and Southern literature, her fiction has no true focus in any one of these. Instead, most of her plotlines are inspired by a childhood spent on a blueberry farm in rural northern Virginia. After her master’s thesis at JMU, Jessi found that her interests were not just in the study of research, but the creation of a three-dimensional character. Her life now revolves around her fiction, her family, the semi-colon/dash debate, Thai food and her dog-like cat, Lola.

Sara Lucas is from Greenfield, Ohio, a small town about an hour south of Columbus. It’s an interesting place full of interesting people and it shows up often in my stories, which tend to be more humorous than serious. I graduated from Ohio University in 2009 with a B.S. in Journalism, which is very serious and not so humorous. That’s probably why I’m getting my MFA – I want to write creatively. I like entertaining people and making people laugh. I also like dogs, farmers’ markets, bike trails, and all of my old lady hobbies.

POETRY

Evan Blake is a poet raised since age four in East Lansing, Michigan, almost smack-dab in the middle of the mitten. He was born in the small African country that is completely surrounded by South Africa called Lesotho (Leh-soo-too), the “Kingdom in the Sky.” He believes it’s also the lightning capitol of the world as it’s very mountainous; his parents once met a man who was struck by lightning seven times! Evan has never been struck by lightning, but he did graduate from Michigan State University, and likes the moment when he first gets an idea for a line.

At age four, Christina Seymour was told to ask a question about Santa Claus. She shrieked, “Why does—does people have—have eyes?!” At age nine, she wrote a poem about kisses, including the line, “[Kisses] are the, or one of the best things in one’s Love life.” This tendency to question things that no one wants to think about and this ability to fabricate an understanding of romantic intimacy were two warning signs of Christina’s destiny to be a writer (i.e. a life-long learner). She is happy to be here!

So, if you haven’t already, please introduce yourself to these crazy talented writers. Plus, they had enough guts to stand up in the middle of a rooftop in front of (almost) complete strangers and show us their chops. That takes, as we don’t say in Hawaii but it is often used in TV shows and movies and all those other popular places, “big kahunas.” Here’s to new traditions and old traditions with a batch of wonderful writers who I just met and, already, seem like old friends. Thank you for joining us here at WVU. We’re oh-so-very-giddy that each and every one of you picked us!

Christopher Isherwood’s
The Last of Mr. Norris
by Rachel King

The Last of Mr. Norris by Christopher Isherwood is a short novel, Berlin, early 1930s, from the perspective of a young American outsider. Memoir veiled as fiction. A convincing portrait of a complex character (Mr. Norris) conveyed in minute and exquisite ways. If someone accuses your short story or novel of being too much of character sketch, you can cite this as precedence (but only if you’ve read it and understand how Isherwood pulls it off).

COW, in all her various activities

by Rachel King

MFA students at faculty at the Meet and Greet in August

The MFA graduate student organization, the Council of Writers (COW), is off to an excellent start. Already, we’ve had two informal readings, a meet-and-greet, and September and October meetings. Our first informal reading took place in the Monmarte restaurant at Hotel Morgan. It was well attended; MFA folk filled the entire rooftop/deck. Personally, I was impressed the first-years had the gumption to read. Our second reading took place at Rebecca Thomas’ spacious and beautiful South Park house, the same venue as the meet-and-greet. Another good turn-out for the second reading, despite the dark and stormy night. We ate and drank, read, and talked about life and writing. Sounds like paradise to me. The meet-and-greet, because of some miscommunication, seemed as though it might be a flop, but the first-years showed up eventually. Good thing, too; I was already brainstorming hazing activities. On the same day as the meet-and-great, COW took place in the annual South Park Yard Sale. We earned around 80 dollars, and we plan to make this an annual event. If you have any goods to donate, please contact Rebecca Thomas

Wow, I guess COW has accomplished quite a bit so far, in addition to our individual teaching, work, and class responsibilities. No wonder I’m a little tired. But it’s a joyful tiredness, a common feeling in grad school, at least so I’ve found.

The Book Sale/Bake Sale and Formal Reading will be our two main events during the month of October. The Book Sale/Bake Sale will take place in Colson on October 20th from 9 a.m. to 4 p.m. Already, over a dozen MFAers have volunteered to bake. I guarantee Bizzy’s delicious baked goods will be sold before 10 am, so show up early! The Formal Reading will take place at 7:00 pm at ZenClay Cafe on Friday, October 28th. Kelly Sundberg, Justin Anderson, and Matt London are the featured readers. We will be showcasing a sample of their work in a specially designed pamphlet inside the reading’s program.

As for horizon-events, we are in the planning stages for a December Holiday Party, a 2013 literary journal, and visits from two nationally known poets in the spring. I shouldn’t disclose the poets’ names until their plans are firmed up, however?

If you want to be involved in any of this crazy joyfulness, come to our meetings, which take place the first Monday of every month. So far, this year’s COW has held all her regular, entertaining events as well as instigated some new, imaginative ones. A good balance of the traditional and experimental, I think, similar to the make-up of the kind of writing fostered in WVU’s MFA program. Coincidence? I think not.

Hunter S. Thompson’s

The Rum Diary

by Martina Helfferich

Hunter S. Thompson’s first novel, begun 1959, showcases Gonzo journalism in a way that is both endearing and mad. The energy and the maniacal tone characteristic of Thompson’s writing displays a character the Washington Post Book World has described as a “hard-drinking, hard-talking, hard-living man.” What sets this book apart from some of Thompson’s other work is its youthful nature coupled with Thompson’s extraordinarily familiar alcohol-laden world of chaos, fear, and risk. The exuberant nature of the book is a perfect simulation of a world that once was real: the life of a journalist in the 1950’s.

“My Tarot Card reader instructed me to be careful. Every person you sleep with, she warned, will leave an imprint on you, a little piece of their soul. You don’t want to take on a black soul. You don’t want that darkness in yourself.”
— Kelly Sundberg “Like Mourners’ Bread”

Congratulations to our very own nonfiction guru Kelly Sundberg. Her essay, “Like Mourners’ Bread,” won first place in Slice Magazine’s “Bridging the Gap Contest.” She won $100, and her essay will appear in the Spring 2012 edition of the magazine. Kelly was announced the winner at a recent conference. Kelly calls Slice a “special journal.” At the conference, she “was able to meet the publishers at the conference, and [she] could see how dedicated they are to fostering connections between emerging writers and the New York publishing world. Publishing is a long and difficult process, and it’s important to have journals that are dedicated to finding new talent.”

From the above excerpt, it’s no wonder that Slice recognized Kelly’s talent. Other literary journals are as well. Her essay “Demolition” is in the current issue of Flyway (as is fiction by our own fictioneer Justin Anderson), and she also has an essay, “Runaway,” forthcoming in Reed magazine.

Read more about Kelly’s work in her student spotlight.

This One Tree by Katie Peterson
Recommended Reading
by Rachel King

When I started writing poetry, I had to stop focusing on abstractions and focus on particulars. Then I had to stop focusing on particulars and focus on the right particulars. Katie Peterson has focused on the right particulars so long that the right particulars have become the right abstractions. I know no other way to say it. Perhaps this: She understands you have to be in the world to be in the other side of it. “The invisible hurts most, / the forgotten makes no sense / because it is invisible. / No rip in the fabric but /there should be. Not this / canvas empty save everything else.”

The Young Writers’ Holiday is made possible through the generous sponsorship of the National Writing Program (NWP). To find out more about what the NWP helps achieve at WVU please click here.

By Connie Pan

Every summer, Keisha Kibler serves as director for Young Writers’ Holiday (YWH) in West Virginia University’s Honors Hall. Due to the negative stigma of summer school, one might assume these students need help with their writing. That is not the case at all; it’s quite the opposite. YWH is a camp that serves students who excel in writing.

Coming from an MFA candidate in fiction at WVU’s graduate program, one of the most important things to a writer is a close-knit writing community. A place where you can hear, read, and see other writers; a place where people encourage you to write; and a place where you can share your writing, get ideas of what is working, what is not, and what is happening under the surface. While the Arts in schools are devalued by suffering budget cut after budget cut, these talented young writers flock to Honors Hall to rub pencils with other writers, younger, older, in school, and professional.

This summer, from June 13 through June 15, thirty young writers (a surprising number that doubled from last year), ranging from fifth to eleventh grade and from seven surrounding counties, met at the writing camp. It consisted of a variety of craft talks, writing into the day assignments, rotating workshops, and focused writing groups led by West Virginia writers and MFA students. The three day camp culminated in a reception, which allowed the young writers to celebrate and share their work with loved ones and peers. Throughout the three days I spent with them, I found joy in recognizing myself in these young writers.

The focused writing groups ranged from poetry to mystery to life stories. I had the pleasure of working with the eighth and ninth grade fantasy fiction group. In our focus group, we completed collaborative descriptive writing about the bottom of the sea, writing prompts drawn out of the bag of otherworldly things, writing with props such as pyramids and stones, and craft talks without and then with an owl. Some of our time was spent undertaking more traditional writerly activities: individual drafting and revision in the computer lab with complimentary zip drives (courtesy of YWH) and practice reading their work in front of an audience.

Prior to the writing camp, facilitators (including myself) and assistants sent letters to the young writers introducing ourselves and highlighting some of the fun things we’d be doing together. I asked them to bring a piece of writing they were proud of for an icebreaker read around and hoped they would appreciate the good news snail-mail. (Writers know good news travels by phone or email. This was our attempt to reverse that stigma.)

I understood when accepting the facilitator position that this camp was for gifted writers, but I frequently found myself jaw-open amazed at the level of sophistication and seriousness these writers had for their craft. At the initial read around, tears of jubilation raced to my eyes and heart palpitations shook my core when I asked a male eighth grader to read a sample of his writing. The young lad pulled out a folder with the last chapter of his first novel, a mystery, and read his typed novel synopsis before divulging the last paragraph of his thriller (a telling preview for me, a brief snippet for you of the talent inhabiting Honors Hall those three days).

In anticipation of the reception, we talked about what they wanted to read. The familiar groans, the groans I’ve groaned myself, filled the room. Eyeballs rolled, fingers fidgeted, sweat beads formed in palms and on brows, and everyone scanned the room, hoping some brave soul would speak first. I have yet to meet a writer that loves reading in front of large crowds. Even if they appear to like reading, it’s bravado, and they’re usually the ones breathing into a paper bag or tossing free cookies in the toilet stall minutes before going on. I told them that even though it seemed like they were dying and their last breath of life was filling their lungs in the form of an anxiety attack, they would indeed go on living. To sequester (not exile) these nerves we’d rehearse 53459845 times. The most outgoing of the bunch spoke first. He said he really liked what he wrote for one of the prompts, but it was new and nowhere near ready (heart flutter) and that he’d be down for collaborating on something, a play, maybe. Two writers knew what they wanted to read and had revised in the labs for the reception. The other eight writers agreed to collaborate.

They wrote their play in one afternoon. In secret, they brainstormed the plot of the play (complete with a funny twist), who would play what characters, and who would bring what props and costumes. They surprised me up to the very last moments. First, during their rehearsals, we timed their performances. When they discovered their play was under their allotted time, they asked if one of the actresses could read her short story because it was really good. How could I say no? Second, the older fantasy fictioneers were sitting up front, in the first two rows. It was an option for them to go first because they were closer to the stage, but they wanted their play to be the show-ender. That’s when I noticed the difference between them and me.

I would have jumped at the chance to go first, get it over with, to be able to finally eat that celebratory cookie from the tray in the back. Sure it would stay in my stomach and not fly up my throat and out of my mouth, but these kids insisted on going last. These kids are fearless, full of guts, and it was inspiring to see passion, practice, and such potential in young folks. Their writing showcase featured a poem, an excerpt of a novel written in journal entries, a short story, and a play. They seemed astronaut steps and pole-vaulting bounds ahead of me. The first time I heard of a MFA program, Poets and Writers, or a writing conference, I was already in an undergraduate program for writing.

Even though the Arts seem to be dwindling in schools, the artists certainly aren’t going anywhere. So, writers, young and old, be aware of these opportunities in this wonderful writing community. Not only is WVU a place where young writers flock to learn, but it’s also a place where MFA students get the opportunity to gain experience teaching creative writing and, in turn, learning from these fearless young folks.

Me Talk Pretty One Day by David Sedaris.

By Rachel King
I’d resisted reading Sedaris ever since I worked at a bookstore and sold hundreds of his books. Obviously, I thought, he can’t be that good. Also, someone told me his writing was cynical and ironic. (I like irony but avoid cynicism.) Fortunately, that person was wrong. My favorite essays: “You Can’t Kill the Rooster” about his redneck brother, “The Youth in Asia” about the dogs in his parents’ life, and “A Shiner Like a Diamond” about his unconventional sister. Unlike DFW’s, these essays won’t change your life, but they will make you laugh out loud.

The Best American Essays 2007 edited by David Foster Wallace.

By Rachel King
I chose to read this because of the editor. “These pieces are models? of ways I wish I could think and live in what seems to be this world,” DFW writes in the introduction. I read about five essays in here, all great, and then became sad over DFW’s suicide and read most of Although of Course You End Up Becoming Yourself, transcripts of David Lipsky’s interviews with DFW back in 1996 (published in 2010). My advice: put your Best Americans on the back burner and read some DFW. Start with Consider the Lobster.