refuse to give up my obsession

This is the Jenny Holzer piece that made me cry at LACMA yesterday. (It’s always something, and never what you expect.) It’s a mix of LED displays and this engraved full-sized coffin, which reads:

I WAS SICK FROM ACTING NORMAL. I WATCHED REPLAYS OF THE WAR. WHEN NOTHING HAPPENED I CLOSED A ZONE WHERE I EXERT CONTROL. I FORMED A GOVERNMENT THAT IS AS WELCOME AS SEX. I AM GOOD TO PEOPLE UNTIL THEY DO SOMETHING STUPID. I STOP THE HABITUAL MISTAKES THAT MAKE FATE. I GIVE PEOPLE TIME SO THEY FEEL THEIR LIVES MOVING OVER THEIR SKINS. I WANT A LARGER ARENA. I TEASE WITH THE POSSIBILITY OF MY ABSENCE.

There was some unexpected Wojnarowicz in the same exhibit, and Haring (though oddly no Gonzalez-Torres), but it was the Holzer that almost actually brought me to my knees. I just wanted to rest my cheek on that polished granite and hold on a while. 

As much as I want How to Survive a Plague to win best documentary tonight, I know it’s probably the underdog. But you should watch it - it’s on Netflix, VOD, etc. - whether you aren’t sure how much you know about the AIDS epidemic in America or whether you’re still raw around the edges from all you lost. It’s a dramatic, heart-pounding thriller about power, desperation and action, and it was absolutely the best film I saw last year. 

"The woman who cherished
her suffering is dead. I am her descendant.
I love the scar-tissue she handed on to me,
but I want to go on from here with you
fighting the temptation to make a career of pain."
Adrienne Rich (excerpted from VIII in Twenty-One Love Poems)

(Source: abraidoffrostandfelt, via disarm-d)

pitch, pitch and pitch again

Advice from Roxane Gay I keep thinking back to, for myself or my friends or as a general life philosophy:

Good writing is what gets a writer, myself included, into fancy publications. I’m one of those writers who has gotten most (90%) of my publications by sending my work through the submission queue. There’s no magic to the process.

Writers often like to conjure up elaborate conspiracy theories about how to break into the upper tier publications through “networking” because it’s more comforting to believe it’s who you know rather than what you write.

I’m not going to pretend that sometimes, it helps to be well connected, but it is definitely possible to live in the middle of nowhere, and write as best you can, and submit that work and hope you’ll get a chance. 

How do I do it? I write a lot, I read a lot, I submit a lot, I take editorial suggestions, and I suck up rejection.

I tell younger journalists especially that as much as they develop their writing skills, they need to develop their pitching skills.

No matter what level you’re at, even when the “yes” comes faster, you will spend your life as an “ideas person” trying to convince other people - a/k/a pitching them - that your idea is worth putting someone’s time/money/interest/promotion behind. A great story that you can’t pitch - in a meeting, in an email, in a tweet - isn’t going to do you much good. 

When I spent a year freelancing for Us Weekly, covering 3-5 red carpet events a week, it was like a crash refresher course in the most basic of interviewing skills - and I’m grateful for it every day. A year-plus of nightly live shows - most of which involved pitching somewhere between 5 and 15 stories on any given morning - has been similarly brutal but useful.

So much of being a working writer is just about being a workhorse. And at least 90 percent of pitching is failing, or finding the better story somewhere buried inside your awful pitch. But you have to get back up and say, “How about this, then?”

yayponies:

alaskyoung:

i fell in love the way you fall asleep…

very happy to have convinced my wife to read this finally - but it’s been long enough since i did that i might have to dip back in again myself. (also i  don’t know the provenance of this graphic but i love the idea of the cover being template-ized for fans to fill in their favorite quotes.) 

Courage, he said. Chin up. Soldier on.

breakthecitysky:

We started therapy, grudgingly, because I was worried that he would get branded a troublemaker at age 5.  He started telling me he was stupid. He would curl up with me on the couch at night and tell me how badly he wanted friends to play with.  He got so anxious about going to school he made himself physically sick, more than once.  I decided it was the school’s fault, and looked into open enrollment elsewhere.  The classes were too full.  The teachers were subpar.  Those were the only logical explanations. 

Read More

Go read this amazing essay about discovering your bright, gifted little boy might need more help than you’d realized.

(Very proud to have had a small hand in helping shape this piece, and to know both the boy and mama in question.)