Our intern, Janelle Luce, has been helping me sift through the submissions box for a month or so now. I’ll forward her 10 or 15 submissions, she’ll read them, then send me notes, comments and her opinion as to whether or not we should publish something. One thing I didn’t know when I took her on was she had a knack for brutally honest comments and visceral reactions to the work. Here’s a few of my faves from the last few weeks:

– a hot mess. backwards town, like an episode of the friggin twilight zone

– ending is like, WTF? “This was a long time ago, when my journey was still beginning.” is there a sequel or something? I hope not…

-I do like that he gets his ass kicked in the end. I was happy about that, the snot.

-BLARGH! heavy-handed, wannabe Gabriel Garcia Marquez motherfucker, cool it down a bit

– OH GOD!! starts with a passage from the Bible

– ugh, just… ugh.

– I think this person was high or drunk when they wrote it, just look at the BS in the last paragraph, and the title? oh man.

– EWWW sexual encounter grossly graphic… come wiping and all.

– all surf jargon, which I wouldn’t mind if there were some context clues, brah.

– ugh. just trust me on this one.

Random thoughts:

New York in the Winter time can be a very lonely place. It’s cold and nobody leaves the house cause they’re sick or they’re hold up with their significant other. Not the best time to be reading a depressing book. That’s not true, this book isn’t depressing as much as it is about depressed people.

That doesn’t sound enticing, I know. But the thing about being depressed, is that it helps to know that someone is in your corner, maybe not trying to pull you out, or help you combat it (only person who can pull you out is yourself), but it can be invaluable just to know someone’s there, in your same boat.

This book reaches through the darkness and grabs your hand. It might not save you, might not lead you anywhere warm or well lit, but it’ll sit with you for a while. And sometimes that’s all you need.

Two down, 120 to go.

Some interesting articles have been arriving by post as of late. Let me tell you about them.

The talented J.A. Tyler was kind enough to send me this beautiful bundle of chapbooks from Mudluscious Press. Mind you, I ordered and paid for them (as you should too), but I just thought it should be noted that Mr. Tyler is not a deadbeat who will abscond with your cash, should you order something from him. Not that anyone has said contrary. Goddamnit. See, this is what happens when I try to compliment someone.

Got my first issue of PANK! Feel the need to always spell that with a exclamation point for some reason. Or clap hands together.

Conan Tobias did a trade for his colorful Canadian journal  Taddle Creek (or should I say colourful.)

Lastly, Sheba sent me a collapsible birdhouse. I love it.

I’m reading 120 books in 2010. The first was The Crying of Lot 49 by Thomas Pynchon. Some random thoughts:

I’ve tried and failed to read Pynchon many times. Around the time I figured that I wanted to be a “wri-tor™” I’d been reading a lot of Big Brother skate mag. Dave Carnie in particular. He was always going on about Pynchon and Beckett so I tried to give them a shot. I was about 19 or 20 at the time and the most challenging novels I’d read was Vonnegut’s back catalogue. I wasn’t nearly prepared for the verbal acrobatics in Gravity’s Rainbow or Molloy. I was used to identifying immediately with the voices in a novel, so much so that it was like dropping into a jetstream. No effort needed, the author was there to do al the heavy lifting and hold your hand throughout the whole thing. I wasn’t prepared for a novel being a problem to solve or a puzzle to unravel. So I got lazy and quit. Both Gravitiy’s Rainbow and Molloy. Shelved them until my focus was a little bit more attuned and I could read something for more than three hours besides celebrity gossip blogs. Last week I decided I’d try and climb the Pynchon ladder once more. Start small, with his most petite work.

As soon as I started reading I immediately noticed how many writers attempt to copy his style. And how flawlessly they fail at this. It’s a common misconception among start-up writers that big words, twisting and bending language, can make one’s writing appear intelligent or complex. Often it just makes you sound like an asshole with a thesaurus. The reason it works with Pynchon is because he’s got something backing up the words: a tightly knit story to tell. I fell into that trap too when I was starting out. Playing with the cake frosting of goofy and meticulous language. I quickly learned that if you don’t have any passion or drive to move the story along those words are going to sabotage your story and your audience won’t care enough to continue.

A problem I have with the conflict: Why does Oedipa even care about unearthing the Tristero? I understand that she gets sucked into the intrigue eventually, like if a friend stops just short of revealing a juicy piece of gossip. There is no way you can continue life without knowing what your friend was going to say. Oedipa becomes obsessed, each clue pulling her further down the rabbit hole. I get that. What I don’t get is why she cared in the first place? Was she just bored? Her life with Mucho was boring as shit. She didn’t really have anything else going on, so why not solve a mystery, why not have a fling with your dead ex-boyfriend’s lawyer. I dunno, maybe I just missed it in the begining. I do that a lot when reading language-heavy books. My eyes keep following the words, but my mind is off wondering what my friends are doing or trying to decide what to make for dinner. When I come to I realize I’ve missed important parts of the story. Then I have to go back to the parts I skipped. And that’s why I read slower than a tree sloth that’s eaten a whole plate of weed brownies.

Symbolism can sometimes be a dangerous thing. Find a little bit of it somewhere and you start looking for it everywhere. You start to see things that aren’t really there. And it can drive you insane.

One down, 119 to go…

Stumbled upon UK illustrator and book cover design virtuoso  Adam Simpson and found his cover for last year’s Up a Tree in the Park at Night with a Hedgehog by Aussie writer P. Robert Smith. It’s rare you find yourself looking at a book cover for more than three to five seconds. This one won’t let you take your eyes off it until you’ve figured out what’s going on with every tiny Where’s Waldo-esque character. You are amazing, Adam!

A goal of mine this year is to read 120 books. Novels, short stories, nonfiction, chapbooks, journals, and the odd graphic novel (those count, btw). That’s more than two books a week. I’m not entirely positive I can reach this goal as I read slower than a stoned, constipated turtle riding a glacier to harvest molasses in the Arctic circle. But the way I see it, even if I don’t reach the final 120, at least I read shit ton of books. I figured it would go much better if I kept an ongoing list. This is it so far:

1. Await Your Reply – Dan Choan

2 Fugue State – Brain Evenson

3. Baby Leg – Brian Evenson

4. The Ask – Sam Lypsite

5. Slumberland – Paul Beatty

6. Temporary People – Steven Gillis

7. Zeitoun – Dave Eggers

8. How Some People Like Their Eggs – Sean Lovelace

9. One Hour of Television – Kristina Born

10. Everything Here is the Best Thing Ever – Justin Taylor

11. Midnight Picnic – Nick Antosca

12. We did Porn – Zak Smith

13. The Lazarus Project – Aleksandar Hemon

14. The Satanic Verses – Salman Rushie

15. Texaco – Patrick Chamoiseau

That’s all I got lined up so far. Mostly it’s a bunch of books I meant to read last year but have been putting off for one reason or another. What’s on your list this year?

(I’m on GoodReads, btw. I just got on so I haven’t done anything to my account. But go ahead and friend me or add me or whatever it is you’re supposed to do on this site.)

Things over at the Holiday in Cambodia project are going along swimmingly. So far we’ve had contributions and submissions from lovely people like Todd Dills, Doug Bond, Liz Grover, and Roxane Gay.

All this participation brings our donation total up to $100, and now that I’ve decided to match all the donations this brings our grand total up to $200! That’s $200 going to teach young Cambodian women how to make zines. Which is the coolest fucking thing I’ve ever heard of.

The mother of all American holidays is coming up! All your crazy family members are going to be in one place driving each other nuts! You know that one Aunt or Uncle that ends up drinking way too much and saying something offensive/cringe-inducing/lie-exposing/overtly-racist to your girlfriend or boyfriend who is meeting your family for the first time? Well, now you can turn that uncomfortable moment into something positive by writing it down and sending it to us to publish in a zine, the proceeds of which will go to an amazing cause. Notepads and pens at the ready…and…GO!

Yesterday I gave a listen to contributor Roxane Gay‘s podcast over at The Collagist (it’s an amazing story,btw. Takes about half an hour but it’s more than worth it. Flip it on while folding laundry or doing dishes) and it got me thinking about all the cool shit that happens over at PANK. I’ve never actually read a print version. That’s gonna change. I ordered their Jan. 2010 issue as well as Aaron Burch’s upcoming chapbook as a Christmas gift to myself. I suggest you do the same for the lit nerd in your life.

Best of 2009 list coming Monday!

The Holiday in Cambodia project is going along quite well, I must say, but just to give it a good kick in the pants for the sake of pants-kicking, I’ve decided I’m going to match all the funds raised by the Holiday in Cambodia project. That’s right. From my own pocket. So far we’ve got something like $70. Which brings us to a grand total of $140. That’s $140 that goes to teaching young Cambodian women how to make zines. You are a simpleton if you do not think that is cool thing. So start submitting today and put me in the poor house!

Dzanc is doing something very cool in the spirit of giving this holiday season. It’s called a Write-A-Thon and I can already hear you saying, “This sounds like a whole bunch of bullshit,” but I assure you, it is not.

Here’s all the vital info, but the gist is this: Starting today through Sunday they’re trying to get all 2000 people in the Emerging Writers Network to donate their time and money to supporting Dzanc’s efforts in the literary arts by writing for hours and hours and hours. Put simply, I’m donating six hours of my time this Saturday to writing. You can sponsor me by going here and clicking on Christopher Heavener. This is a tax deductible donation. The money goes to supporting the Dzanc Writer in Residence Program, which gets grossly talented writers to teach in high schools with underfunded or non-existent writing programs, and the Dzanc Prize, which gives a grant of $5,000 to work on a community service-based literary project. Both worthy causes. So click the link above and let’s give until we have nothing left to give!