Wednesday, March 01, 2006

Who here has been a Holocaust pityfuck?



So I guess I should tell you that I'm equal opportunity when it comes to my silly fangirl mid-life crisis crushes on writers and that Neil Gaiman is just one of many. (Meanwhile, try saying that fast: Mid-life crisis crushes). Anyway, another hunk writer with whom I had the pleasure of sharing drinks is Steve Almond...in fact, I am proud to say that when I had a drink with Steve and his ever present posse of adoring fans back in 2004, I had his complete, stunned attention with his famous jaw dropping to his navel as I told him the behind the scenes story of my novel, Three Days in New York City. I don't want to tell you what he subsequently autographed in his book for me...his collection of short stories, that is, but I will tell you this: When I went to New York for his Candyfreak signing last year, he not only remembered me, but gave me the same exact inscription/autograph.

Sigh...and here I'd felt so special.

I'll bet if I do post what he wrote, I'll get 1,000 emails from women all over the country who exclaim "OHMYGOD HE WROTE THE SAME THING IN MY BOOK" and well, I just don't want to face that dreaded news even though I'm pretty sure it'll be the case.

Though if anyone really wants me to blab what he wrote, just ask and I'll stick it in "comments".

But no one can take that night away from me -- the night that it wasn't about "Steve" but all about Ms. Slick here. Ha! And I did warn him he's not allowed to use any of the material I gave him because it was already in my own book and everyone at our table laughed because they all knew he was writing the story in his head at that very moment.

Anyway, the reason I bring Steve up now is that I just read his new piece in Nerve Magazine, and because I'm Jewish and spent several hours talking with him and got a handle on how nuts he is (in a good way), I cracked the hell up because in his aforesaid essay over at Nerve he used the phrase "I am going to be the recipient of a Holocaust pityfuck".

So click on the link, have a read, and hopefully some laughs but it's really a lot more than a humorous tale...it's kind of bittersweet and sad, too.

But man, I've never been anyone's Holocaust pityfuck! Damn! But that could be because I'm so anti-religion I don't discuss said religion with anyone and get really annoyed if a person so much as says the word "church" to me.

Anyway, who the hell would want to be anyone's pityfuck under any situation?

Okay then. I am proud to say I've also never been a pityfuck.

Oh alright, alright. I'm lying.

So out of the black hole of submissions land, I heard from the editors at Juked Magazine about a piece I sent them. It was the coolest non-rejection/non-acceptance letter I think I've ever received from anyone. Usually it's just yay or nay...a one line email or a tiny scrap of paper in my own stamped, self-addressed envelope. But from Juked I got a lengthy email telling me how much they liked the story but they think it can be even better...and if I'd be willing to tweak it a bit (and they pretty much tweaked it for me in their examples)...they'd publish it.

I have absolutely no ego at all when it comes to things like that because I think it's impossible for a writer to be objective about his/her own writing and when someone obviously very intelligent offers me suggestions, I'm thrilled.

Only problem here is that I simul-subbed the story (yeah, I know, I broke my simul-sub rule following the great "Oh My God My Story Is Published Simultaneously in Two Magazines" fiasco mentioned here a couple of days ago). So now I'm wavering...Juked Magazine's suggestions really rock and I like them, but who is to say another editor at another magazine won't be thrilled with the piece as is?

Arghh...I guess I'll revise the story but hold off sending it a few days.

See why you shouldn't simul-sub?

But on the other hand, some magazines take a year to get back to you, and that makes me crazy. I am so fucking impatient...I send out a story, I start checking my email the next hour.

Anyway, one final word on writing - it appears that the Neil Gaiman in sunglasses in the woods wins best photo contest...the only dissenting vote is Susan Henderson who prefers Neil in regular glasses. I guess I won't email the results to him...too weird...and besides, if that sunglasses photo was on his journal, I'd be clicking on it 100 times a day and the next thing you know, his attorneys would be sending me a cyber-restraining order and well, that would be really, really embarrassing.

I could use a cyber-restraining order on some people here, though. You know who you are. Go away!

(Just kidding)

In music news, Eric is in full Project Object rehearsal mode, teaching drums, teaching Zappa, psyched thinking about the September tour with Chris Opperman, he's going into the studio at the end of March to record some tracks with Shannon Penn and right now he's sitting here next to me writing music on his laptop. This Sunday is the Adrian Belew/Rock School make-up because of the blizzard concert at the New York Knitting Factory, and I know Eric can't wait for that, either. If you are in New York, this is an amazing, amazing show and you should really try and make it. Here are the details for tickets.

And just so we don't leave out our newly vegetarian Julie Slick from the blog, before she left for class and an all night recording session tonight, she left me a special dinner BECAUSE SHE'S TRYING TO CONVERT ME. Oh. Sorry for the caplock. I get that way when I'm excited. She made me gnocchi concocted from a mixture of roasted squash and sweet potatoes (but she told me -- as if talking to a ten year old -- that I am in charge of boiling the water and placing them in, making sure I take them out as soon as they float to the top...hahahaha..I love my daughter but who does she think taught HER how to cook?) and in another container she's made a sauce from fresh sage and butter (apparently she's not vegan yet) so yes, yes, yes, I'm excited about that and is it suppertime yet?

I think that's it for now. But if not, I'll be back.

Later,
xo