9/27/10
Congratz on 2 Notable 3Ms Essays
The latest Best American Essays 2010 is out today and 2 of the contributors to 3Ms have essays selected in the Notable Essay list, Maud Casey, "A Life in Books," and Cheryl Strayed, "Munro Country." Maud's wonderful essay about the influence of her writer parents (John Casey and Jane Barnes) first appeared in The Oxford American. Cheryl's essay on Alice Munro, which also won a Pushcart Prize, first appeared in The Missouri Review. Huge congratz to you both!
7/26/10
3Ms in Blue Hill, Maine
Last Thursday, two wonderful writers - Heidi Julavits and Ayelet Waldman - joined me to talk about mentors, muses and influences, at the Blue Hill LIbrary, in Blue Hill, Maine. In the audience were Bill Henderson, editor and publisher of Pushcart Prizes, which awarded prizes to two of our essays, and novelist Rafael Yglesias, author of the acclaimed A Happy Marriage.
Heidi and Ayelet told stories of their own literary influences (Heidi: a "very, very, very, very famous writer" who read the ms. of her novel and excoriated it and helped her in the process; Ayelet: Tobias Wolff, who said she didn't need to attend graduate school in writing and that her first non-mystery novel was "great"), and both had fascinating comments on the effect of motherhood on writing (profound and positive), and the clued us in on how their writer spouses (Ben Marcus, Michael Chabon) influence their work (ditto).
Thanks to all for a terrific evening. One of the book's pleasures is that the conversation about influence keeps going and growing.
Heidi and Ayelet told stories of their own literary influences (Heidi: a "very, very, very, very famous writer" who read the ms. of her novel and excoriated it and helped her in the process; Ayelet: Tobias Wolff, who said she didn't need to attend graduate school in writing and that her first non-mystery novel was "great"), and both had fascinating comments on the effect of motherhood on writing (profound and positive), and the clued us in on how their writer spouses (Ben Marcus, Michael Chabon) influence their work (ditto).
Thanks to all for a terrific evening. One of the book's pleasures is that the conversation about influence keeps going and growing.
6/16/10
Books, Nooks, Everything Apple, Kindles & Your Laptop
The question this summer isn't what to read but how to read it. So many devices, so little time.
Some shortcuts and tips on where to find 3Ms beyond your local bookstore:
For those sans Kindle, you can download Kindle software for free on Amazon.
* Buy the Kindle edition and/or download Kindle software for free onto your computer:
* Buy the ebook for the Nook and many other ebook devices.
* Download 3Ms onto your iPad through the iPad bookstore. It's $11.99.
Email me if you have difficulties with any of these programs: info@elizabethbenedict.com. And thanks for clicking through.
Some shortcuts and tips on where to find 3Ms beyond your local bookstore:
For those sans Kindle, you can download Kindle software for free on Amazon.
* Buy the Kindle edition and/or download Kindle software for free onto your computer:
* Buy the ebook for the Nook and many other ebook devices.
* Download 3Ms onto your iPad through the iPad bookstore. It's $11.99.
Email me if you have difficulties with any of these programs: info@elizabethbenedict.com. And thanks for clicking through.
5/6/10
2 Essays Win Pushcart Prizes
Sigrid Nunez's essay on Susan Sontag, "Sontag's Rules," and Cheryl Strayed's essay on Alice Munro, "Munro Country," were both selected for Pushcart Prizes for 2011, after appearing first in Tin House and the Missouri Review, respectively. Both essays are scheduled to appear in the annual Pushcart Prize anthology this fall.
4/1/10
3Ms reunion in Santa Monica
Carolyn See, whose smashing 3Ms essay, "The Scholars and the Pornographer," first appeared on The Rumpus, was one of my mentors, though I didn't write about her in the book. She has been a model for me of literary generosity, good humor, and taking the long view. In Santa Monica earlier this week, we had lunch at Michael's, whose wonderful garden you get a sense of in these photos
3/19/10
Writers and Their Influences at UVa
Alice Randall joined the 3Ms last night for a panel at the Virginia Festival of the Book, along with contributors John Casey and Maud Casey. Our conversation will soon be available on the book festival website . I'll let you know when it appears. Thanks for checking in.
3/6/10
March 18-U Va Festival of the Book
Mentors, Muses & Monsters writers John Casey and Maud Casey will join me and author Alice Randall (The Wind Done Gone, Rebel Yell) on Thursday, March 18, at 8pm, for a panel on writers and their influences, on the opening night of this wonderful book festival held every year at UVa, in Charlottesville. John Casey is a professor in the graduate creative writing program and Maud Casey grew up in Charlottesville. Here's information on our event (tickets required) at the Festival and here's info about the Festival itself.
2/15/10
Writers Sing Praises of Their Mentors
The March issue of The Writer has a long, generous review of Mentors, Muses & Monsters. There's no link directly to the review, but it examines contributions by John Casey, Alexander Chee, Michael Cunningham and Anita Shreve, and concludes by describing 3Ms as "a unique collection of essays about the infinite varieties of literary mentoring. To this reviewer's knowledge, [Benedict's] is the first book to do so - and it does it very well." Thank you to reviewer Chuck Leddy, who is a contributing editor at The Writer.
2/4/10
A Night of Mentors, Muses, Teachers & Students
Mentors, Muses and Monsters visited Upstate New York on Wednesday, February 3. Contributors Robert Boyers and Alexander Chee joined me at East Line Books in Clifton Park, NY, about halfway between Albany and Saratoga Springs, for a reading and discussion. The audience was full of our students - from Skidmore, where Robert teaches, Amherst, where Alex teachers, and the Albany area, where I taught several years ago at the NY State Writers Institute at SUNY-Albany. In fact, Robyn Ringler, owner of the store, was in that class. Thanks to Robyn for the invitation and to everyone who braved the cold to come see us.
Photos by Peg Boyers
1/5/10
The Envelope Please: The Winner and Finalists
Thanks to all who participated in the Christmas Story Contest, announced originally on Huffington Post.
The winner is Kendra Korte, an ex-pat American living in the UK. Her piece, "Waiting at Westminister" appears at the end of this post. She'll receive a copy of Mentors, Muses & Monsters.
The 6 finalists are listed here, and the openings paragraphs of their pieces follow.
Because of technical difficulties - that I didn't understand until a few minutes ago - I will not be able to post PDF files of the finalists (this system does not allow it), and space does not allow me to publish all the pieces on this blog in their entirety. As a last resort, I've come up with a way for you to get a flavor for the pieces, and a way to read them all.
Please read the openings, and email me for the complete package of finalists. I'm preparing the emails to send out right now.
ebenedict@earthlink.net. I'm sorry for the screw-up. I was certain I'd be able to post PDFs on this blog, but it seems that I can't.
1. "Christmas" by Lai Lee Chau
In my head is the pitch-perfect New England Christmas fantasy of my
childhood, complete with a gently twinkling and fragrant Christmas
tree standing by the warm and bright fireplace, and family gathered
around opening presents, crowded close to keep the chill at bay while
the snow falls silently outside on the pine trees. Bing Crosby or
Frank Sinatra is singing. It is a fantasy that was inspired by learning
the words to Christmas carols in elementary school, studying the
tranquil scenes in the red box of assorted 100 Christmas cards, and
visits to my uncleʼs house in Massachusetts suburbia during
Christmas breaks, where for a brief moments I could pretend to be
my America-born cousins, who lived the all-American lives where
such Christmases were possible. Pictures of me from that time had
me and my sisters standing in front of the rustic wooden fence ringing
their front yard, knee deep in an expanse of pure, clean snow. Such
a life seemed far away for a girl growing up in an apartment building
in Washington Heights who wanted these things to be her familyʼs
traditions but which were not.
2. "View Finder" by Ida Chavira
Grandma Mary sits on the chair watched through the lens of my Nikon Life Touch. I zoom in to snap a picture of the guest of honor. She sits with a carnation corsage pinned on the matching sweater of her dark green dress - the one with gray and pink stripes on the hem. She barely smiles, just to be polite. Her cane leans against the sofa. One hand clenches a stiff, double strapped, black purse that holds a handkerchief, Avon lipstick, last month’s phone bill and Kleenex. Her other long fingers, that rolled tortillas every morning, now squeeze and suffocate the skin inside her palm.
3. "That Christmas Spirit" by Paul Genader
The old homestead was sold off long ago now. I haven't been by the place and don't intend to go. Business brought me back to the area and I just came up the hill for the view. There was a nice view from the house when I was a kid, but the trees grew over time and the view just isn't what it used to be. Nothing is what it used to be. The view a little further up the hill is still worthy, though. It's a clear night and the panorama looks as good as ever.
4. "A No 'L' Tantrum" by Jennie Heckscher
They were opening the third round of stocking stuffers when someone suggested mimosas. Eager to keep the Christmas morning peace, everyone heartily agreed, and Henry hoisted himself up to fetch a bottle of Krug.
“Get out the new champagne glasses, Henry,” Martha called shrilly after her husband. She glanced around the room, carefully surveying her grown daughter and step-children, triumphant in her role as supreme family leader. Her daughter Sarah and her step-sons, Charlie and Will, had come for Christmas at long last. Dismally unaware of the depth of persuasion it took
Will to get his wife Jenna to come along with Ally, their two-year old daughter, Martha thought of what she could tell her friends at bridge club next week about their Christmas surrounded by adoring family.
5. "Christmas Presents" by M.J. Rose
I'm Jewish but we celebrated Christmas growing up. My dad was in the toy business, and to a man in the toy business, December 25th is a holy day no matter who you pray to the rest of the year.
Imagine: it's Christmas and your dad is the EVP at one of the top three
toy companies in New York City. Imagine the sight under the tree. Nah
. . . double that. Practically all of FAO Schwarz was under our tree (the
tree, by the way, was five feet tall, plastic, pink and decorated with
pink and silver ornaments.)
6. "Snowflake Kisses, a Day Before" by Zaina Sukkarieh
The phone is beeping again.
My sister catches my eyes through the long blades of the green grass, and raises her eyebrow. Her forehead wrinkled, her blue eyes blazing as fiercely as the sky. She huffs angrily. “Thank God!” she mouths.
Lying on her stomach with her elbows deep in the grass, she sinks
her head back into the pillow of clovers and watches a lady beetle
balance on a long flimsy fern. I roll onto my back and pluck at a single
dandelion. Holding it up to the sun and shielding my eyes I let out a
long exasperated sigh, and watch the seeds dwindle and fall like
snowflakes. I close my eyes, the seeds gently flutter down onto my
face and I wonder if this is what it feels like to be kissed by a
snowflake."
____________________
As you can see, these are wonderful beginnings, and wonderful pieces. Please email me for the complete set:
ebenedict@earthlink.net
The Winner:
"Waiting at Westminster" by Kendra Korte
Bit chilly out here, isn’t it? It’s a little bit ridiculous that we have to be here so early but, I suppose, what else are you going to do on Christmas Eve? When do they open the doors, do you know? I am looking forward to getting inside and sitting down a bit. It wouldn’t even be so bad out here if we’d just be moving a bit or something, but no, two hours standing in a line. I hear that the line started forming at the door about eight or so – not that it’s not an important service of course, but it doesn’t start until 11:30! If I’m going to be waiting for so long, I hope I at least get a good seat.
You here by yourself, too, then? Where are you from? I’m from the US, too - Minnesota. I always wanted to come to London, and my daughter’s spending Christmas with her in-laws this year, so I decided that it would be a retirement present to myself. Yeah, I retired this fall. What do you do? Oh, that must be nice, living here like that. Do you get back home often? Didn’t you want to go back for Christmas?
Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to - Do you miss your family a lot? Sorry, that’s a silly question, of course you do. It must be hard to be so far away for so long. But I bet you’ve made lots of friends here, at work and at your school there. Do you live alone or do you share a place or what? Four of you? That’s a nice number – just enough so that you don’t get lonely, not so many that you don’t have some privacy. Are you good friends, then? Didn’t they want to come along to this? Oh, dear, you must be so lonely without them. Is it far, where you live? I hear the Tube will be shut down for Christmas by the time this service is over. Will you have far to go to get home? I’m staying in Bloomsbury, so it’ll be a ways to walk but I’ll be fine, I’m sure. It’s already so quiet. It’s like the city itself is ready for Christmas. Even here. There must be hundreds of people waiting right now, but here we are chatting just as easily as if we were alone.
How much longer do you think it’ll be before they start letting people in? Can you see Big Ben from where you are? I feel like we’ve been standing here for ages. It’s only been forty-five minutes? Really? Well, I still hope they start letting people in soon. Services in Westminster Abbey, after all – I want to be able to at least look around me before it all starts. I came in on a tour yesterday to see the tombs and things, but there’s so many people, aren’t there? You almost feel run through on a conveyor belt or something, at least I sure did. I’d like to find out more about some of those people, too – some of the prime ministers or politicians or something. I know about the kings of course, but some of the others must have been pretty important to be buried in there. Where do you think they’ll let us sit? It would be nice to be in Poet’s Corner or something, look around at all those familiar names and all that.
So why’d you decide to come here, then? I mean, if you live here, there’s probably lots of places you could go for services. Yeah, you’re right, it is a special place. Something so old, with so much history, you can almost feel the presence of the past, can’t you, while you’re in there? At least that’s what I’m hoping. It was so crowded yesterday, like I said, but I usually find that as part of a service even the most crowded place becomes holy. Something about the community, about everyone doing it together, about knowing that all over the world people are doing the same thing. People need connections, you know, and that’s what this does for us. At least once a year, we come together. Easter may be more important from a Christian point of view, but Christmas is more important for us as people. Even when we’re alone, like you are and like I am now, we still need people at Christmastime. No matter what you believe, this is the time to be with people.
Oh, don’t be bitter, dear. You’re not alone. You’re here, aren’t you? If you were really alone at Christmas, really alone and not just lonely, you’d be back at that shared house of yours, sitting in the dark by yourself, instead of shivering out here in a line of hundreds of people trying to get into a thousand-year-old church. You’re just lonely, not alone. Not that you don’t have reason to be, mind you, being away from your family for the first time, and all your housemates going off without you and all that that you said earlier. But there’s a difference between being alone and being lonely and you, my dear, are not alone. At least for tonight, anyway.
Oh, don’t cry, dear. It’s too cold. Your face will freeze. That’s better, isn’t it? Now, I know that we only met half an hour ago, and we won’t meet again after tonight, but for tonight, anyway, for this service, we’ll have each other, right? Someone to chat to while the organ is playing and all those choirboys are coming in. The shepherds and kings and all gathered together to mark the birth, so we will too. It’s a shared experience, you know? And you need someone to share it with, or you wouldn’t be here.
Did I see movement up there? Oh, good we’re finally getting to go in. Not before time, either. I can hardly feel my fingers. It’ll be good to sit down for a bit, too. Don’t your feet hurt with heels that high? Just like my daughter, she wears heels like that all the time. I can’t do it, myself.
Yes, there’s two of us. We’re together. Merry Christmas.
-- Kendra Korte is an American ex-pat in the UK. She writes about books at mendramarie.wordpress.com.
The winner is Kendra Korte, an ex-pat American living in the UK. Her piece, "Waiting at Westminister" appears at the end of this post. She'll receive a copy of Mentors, Muses & Monsters.
The 6 finalists are listed here, and the openings paragraphs of their pieces follow.
Because of technical difficulties - that I didn't understand until a few minutes ago - I will not be able to post PDF files of the finalists (this system does not allow it), and space does not allow me to publish all the pieces on this blog in their entirety. As a last resort, I've come up with a way for you to get a flavor for the pieces, and a way to read them all.
Please read the openings, and email me for the complete package of finalists. I'm preparing the emails to send out right now.
ebenedict@earthlink.net. I'm sorry for the screw-up. I was certain I'd be able to post PDFs on this blog, but it seems that I can't.
1. "Christmas" by Lai Lee Chau
In my head is the pitch-perfect New England Christmas fantasy of my
childhood, complete with a gently twinkling and fragrant Christmas
tree standing by the warm and bright fireplace, and family gathered
around opening presents, crowded close to keep the chill at bay while
the snow falls silently outside on the pine trees. Bing Crosby or
Frank Sinatra is singing. It is a fantasy that was inspired by learning
the words to Christmas carols in elementary school, studying the
tranquil scenes in the red box of assorted 100 Christmas cards, and
visits to my uncleʼs house in Massachusetts suburbia during
Christmas breaks, where for a brief moments I could pretend to be
my America-born cousins, who lived the all-American lives where
such Christmases were possible. Pictures of me from that time had
me and my sisters standing in front of the rustic wooden fence ringing
their front yard, knee deep in an expanse of pure, clean snow. Such
a life seemed far away for a girl growing up in an apartment building
in Washington Heights who wanted these things to be her familyʼs
traditions but which were not.
2. "View Finder" by Ida Chavira
Grandma Mary sits on the chair watched through the lens of my Nikon Life Touch. I zoom in to snap a picture of the guest of honor. She sits with a carnation corsage pinned on the matching sweater of her dark green dress - the one with gray and pink stripes on the hem. She barely smiles, just to be polite. Her cane leans against the sofa. One hand clenches a stiff, double strapped, black purse that holds a handkerchief, Avon lipstick, last month’s phone bill and Kleenex. Her other long fingers, that rolled tortillas every morning, now squeeze and suffocate the skin inside her palm.
3. "That Christmas Spirit" by Paul Genader
The old homestead was sold off long ago now. I haven't been by the place and don't intend to go. Business brought me back to the area and I just came up the hill for the view. There was a nice view from the house when I was a kid, but the trees grew over time and the view just isn't what it used to be. Nothing is what it used to be. The view a little further up the hill is still worthy, though. It's a clear night and the panorama looks as good as ever.
4. "A No 'L' Tantrum" by Jennie Heckscher
They were opening the third round of stocking stuffers when someone suggested mimosas. Eager to keep the Christmas morning peace, everyone heartily agreed, and Henry hoisted himself up to fetch a bottle of Krug.
“Get out the new champagne glasses, Henry,” Martha called shrilly after her husband. She glanced around the room, carefully surveying her grown daughter and step-children, triumphant in her role as supreme family leader. Her daughter Sarah and her step-sons, Charlie and Will, had come for Christmas at long last. Dismally unaware of the depth of persuasion it took
Will to get his wife Jenna to come along with Ally, their two-year old daughter, Martha thought of what she could tell her friends at bridge club next week about their Christmas surrounded by adoring family.
5. "Christmas Presents" by M.J. Rose
I'm Jewish but we celebrated Christmas growing up. My dad was in the toy business, and to a man in the toy business, December 25th is a holy day no matter who you pray to the rest of the year.
Imagine: it's Christmas and your dad is the EVP at one of the top three
toy companies in New York City. Imagine the sight under the tree. Nah
. . . double that. Practically all of FAO Schwarz was under our tree (the
tree, by the way, was five feet tall, plastic, pink and decorated with
pink and silver ornaments.)
6. "Snowflake Kisses, a Day Before" by Zaina Sukkarieh
The phone is beeping again.
My sister catches my eyes through the long blades of the green grass, and raises her eyebrow. Her forehead wrinkled, her blue eyes blazing as fiercely as the sky. She huffs angrily. “Thank God!” she mouths.
Lying on her stomach with her elbows deep in the grass, she sinks
her head back into the pillow of clovers and watches a lady beetle
balance on a long flimsy fern. I roll onto my back and pluck at a single
dandelion. Holding it up to the sun and shielding my eyes I let out a
long exasperated sigh, and watch the seeds dwindle and fall like
snowflakes. I close my eyes, the seeds gently flutter down onto my
face and I wonder if this is what it feels like to be kissed by a
snowflake."
____________________
As you can see, these are wonderful beginnings, and wonderful pieces. Please email me for the complete set:
ebenedict@earthlink.net
The Winner:
"Waiting at Westminster" by Kendra Korte
Bit chilly out here, isn’t it? It’s a little bit ridiculous that we have to be here so early but, I suppose, what else are you going to do on Christmas Eve? When do they open the doors, do you know? I am looking forward to getting inside and sitting down a bit. It wouldn’t even be so bad out here if we’d just be moving a bit or something, but no, two hours standing in a line. I hear that the line started forming at the door about eight or so – not that it’s not an important service of course, but it doesn’t start until 11:30! If I’m going to be waiting for so long, I hope I at least get a good seat.
You here by yourself, too, then? Where are you from? I’m from the US, too - Minnesota. I always wanted to come to London, and my daughter’s spending Christmas with her in-laws this year, so I decided that it would be a retirement present to myself. Yeah, I retired this fall. What do you do? Oh, that must be nice, living here like that. Do you get back home often? Didn’t you want to go back for Christmas?
Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to - Do you miss your family a lot? Sorry, that’s a silly question, of course you do. It must be hard to be so far away for so long. But I bet you’ve made lots of friends here, at work and at your school there. Do you live alone or do you share a place or what? Four of you? That’s a nice number – just enough so that you don’t get lonely, not so many that you don’t have some privacy. Are you good friends, then? Didn’t they want to come along to this? Oh, dear, you must be so lonely without them. Is it far, where you live? I hear the Tube will be shut down for Christmas by the time this service is over. Will you have far to go to get home? I’m staying in Bloomsbury, so it’ll be a ways to walk but I’ll be fine, I’m sure. It’s already so quiet. It’s like the city itself is ready for Christmas. Even here. There must be hundreds of people waiting right now, but here we are chatting just as easily as if we were alone.
How much longer do you think it’ll be before they start letting people in? Can you see Big Ben from where you are? I feel like we’ve been standing here for ages. It’s only been forty-five minutes? Really? Well, I still hope they start letting people in soon. Services in Westminster Abbey, after all – I want to be able to at least look around me before it all starts. I came in on a tour yesterday to see the tombs and things, but there’s so many people, aren’t there? You almost feel run through on a conveyor belt or something, at least I sure did. I’d like to find out more about some of those people, too – some of the prime ministers or politicians or something. I know about the kings of course, but some of the others must have been pretty important to be buried in there. Where do you think they’ll let us sit? It would be nice to be in Poet’s Corner or something, look around at all those familiar names and all that.
So why’d you decide to come here, then? I mean, if you live here, there’s probably lots of places you could go for services. Yeah, you’re right, it is a special place. Something so old, with so much history, you can almost feel the presence of the past, can’t you, while you’re in there? At least that’s what I’m hoping. It was so crowded yesterday, like I said, but I usually find that as part of a service even the most crowded place becomes holy. Something about the community, about everyone doing it together, about knowing that all over the world people are doing the same thing. People need connections, you know, and that’s what this does for us. At least once a year, we come together. Easter may be more important from a Christian point of view, but Christmas is more important for us as people. Even when we’re alone, like you are and like I am now, we still need people at Christmastime. No matter what you believe, this is the time to be with people.
Oh, don’t be bitter, dear. You’re not alone. You’re here, aren’t you? If you were really alone at Christmas, really alone and not just lonely, you’d be back at that shared house of yours, sitting in the dark by yourself, instead of shivering out here in a line of hundreds of people trying to get into a thousand-year-old church. You’re just lonely, not alone. Not that you don’t have reason to be, mind you, being away from your family for the first time, and all your housemates going off without you and all that that you said earlier. But there’s a difference between being alone and being lonely and you, my dear, are not alone. At least for tonight, anyway.
Oh, don’t cry, dear. It’s too cold. Your face will freeze. That’s better, isn’t it? Now, I know that we only met half an hour ago, and we won’t meet again after tonight, but for tonight, anyway, for this service, we’ll have each other, right? Someone to chat to while the organ is playing and all those choirboys are coming in. The shepherds and kings and all gathered together to mark the birth, so we will too. It’s a shared experience, you know? And you need someone to share it with, or you wouldn’t be here.
Did I see movement up there? Oh, good we’re finally getting to go in. Not before time, either. I can hardly feel my fingers. It’ll be good to sit down for a bit, too. Don’t your feet hurt with heels that high? Just like my daughter, she wears heels like that all the time. I can’t do it, myself.
Yes, there’s two of us. We’re together. Merry Christmas.
-- Kendra Korte is an American ex-pat in the UK. She writes about books at mendramarie.wordpress.com.
Results of Xmas Contest to be Posted Later Today
I hope to post the winner and finalists of the Christmas Story Contest later today. Stay tuned.
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