Sundry Literary Notes Brought to You by Social Media

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Image by youngthousands via Flickr

Add Hunger Mountain to the list of literary journals that charges a reading/submission/administrative fee for non-subscribers.  I don’t know how recent this change is, but I submitted to HM a few months ago without a charge.  It’s either a recent development, or, you know, the real reason for that kind rejection letter.

The Believer just tweeted “8000 Facebook fans!  When did that happen?”   Good for you, The Believer.

Sufjan Stevens on Spotify is my submissions soundtrack.  As in literary submissions, not cool grappling lessons.  That would be hilarious.

Failing Better Isn’t Really Failing (Literary Rejection Letters and You)

One of my favorite things about this blog is how many people find their way here by searching for information about literary rejection letters.  If there’s a word in German that means the opposite of Schadenfreude, that’d how I’d describe it:  It’s not that I’m glad for your literary travails, but it’s also not rank commiseration.  It’s a shame that neither of us are selling to Tin House, but let’s be honest:  thousands of very talented fiction writers and poets offer very good work every day, and only a tiny sliver of that is being shared with the world at mid-sized or major markets and web venues.

I worry less and less about that lately.  I’ve gotten to the point that the work I’m sending out has been workshopped at high levels, has been wrestled with, lived with, fought with, blown up, and, importantly, influenced by the ways I’ve learned to be a better reader.  You can do all these things without getting an MFA, and you should do them.

There’s a fairly famous online lit venue called Fail Better.  The monicker is taken from Samuel Beckett:

Ever tried.
Ever failed.
No matter.
Try again.
Fail again.
Fail better.

It doesn’t matter what your field is.  If we must fail, we might as well fail better.  And then we’re not really failing at all.

I got two rejection letters this morning.

No matter.

Do what you do, and do it as well as you can.  Stretch yourself, open your art or work or code to people whose opinions matter.  Stay your course, but don’t be afraid to be enriched by the eyes and ears of others willing to share their vantage.   Make friends.  Be nice.  Amazing things will happen.  You’re only failing if you’ve refused to let rejection make you better.

 

Yuval Levin on Newt Gingrich’s Revolutionary Disposition; What Should Florida Do?

Gingrich has what you might call a revolutionary disposition: He has great intensity and energy. His mind is drawn to stark and diametrical distinctions; he expects change to occur through cataclysmic clashes and so seems always to be seeking after ways to accelerate the contradictions. This allows him to much more easily thunder over his own inconsistencies and past changes of mind. But he has no discipline whatsoever, can be almost unbelievably erratic and unfocused, and is unironically conceited.

So says Yuval Levin in National Review.  He goes on with some ideas about the difference in temperament between Gingrich and Mitt Romney, highlighting some of Gingrich’s key successes as Speaker and suggesting that some of his biggest failures were due to a nagging erratic-ism that’s also defined many aspects of his current campaign. Romney is staid (except when he’s not) and has a record of executive experience.  I get it.  I also happen to think that if this were study in cynicism and entitlement, Romney would win it going away.

If you’re a Republican voter in Florida next week, who do you go with, and why?

 

 

Spencer Soper for the Pulitzer? Yes, Please!

Spencer Soper’s award-winning work on the deplorable conditions at an Amazon fulfillment center here in the Lehigh Valley has earned the Morning Call writer a  nomination for journalism’s greatest honor:  The Tribune Co. is nominating Soper’s Amazon exposé for a Pulitzer Prize. 

I’ve talked about Spencer’s work a good deal in this space, and it’s not just because mindless abuse at the hands of the world’s largest online retailer is happening in my backyard.  It’s a global story, and a globalism story.  Many of the people I’ve shared it with have responded in encouraging ways, pledging to swear off Amazon not just because of the violations Soper uncovered, but because of what Amazon’s very model says about the corporate ethos.  Let’s be clear: getting things to you as quickly and cheaply as Amazon does means Amazon caring as little as possible about worker rights, local economies, brick and mortar small businesses, communities, and fairness.  Oh, how grand it was when these realities were only hypothetical.  But the abuse here in the Lehigh Valley brings things we should have all realized long ago directly to the fore.  Amazon is a machine built for speed, and if people get caught in all those moving parts, it’s fine with Amazon so long as the clean up doesn’t take too long.

Epiphany’s Radical Welcome

Christians around the world celebrated this past Friday as Epiphany, the traditional end of  Christmastide on the 12th Day of Christmas.  Emphases vary according to culture, theological tradition and custom, but the revelation of Jesus as the Son of God is a central theme of Epiphany.

Most Christians believe or center their spiritual lives around some variation of the basic Christian narrative:  the “Good News” of the Gospel is that God seeks to reconcile humankind to Godself and to reclaim all of creation for creation’s good and for God’s eternal glory.  To my theological ear, Christmas touches Easter in undeniable ways:  the story of Christ’s birth (Incarnation) and the story of his passion are fundamentally about God going to the far places (becoming enfleshed and time-bound; dying) to reconcile everything and everyoneto Godself.  Christ’s coming into history is the story of the unorthodox emigration of God from cosmos to poverty to death. The crux of Christianity, in any liturgical season, is the idea that a place at God’s table is being prepared not only for all who would seek it, but for all whom God seeks. Rahab’s service to the Hebrews in Jericho, Ruth’s faithful dedication to her mother-in-law, and their inclusion in Christ’s lineage by the Gospel writer Matthew shows that Christ’s birth, while wholly unique, is not unlike the progressive extension of covenant found throughout the Hebrew Bible. Neither is it something for Jewish or Christian people only. The birth of Christ is, the traditions assert, the coming of God into history, God’s putting on of flesh, vulnerability, rejection. The beginning of God’s own march toward death and undoing it.

It’s not by accident that the church follows the celebration of God’s coming to dwell among us with a season proclaiming the inclusion of all peoples in the good news of Christmas. Epiphany reminds us that this is, indeed, a good news that shall be to all people. Mary, Joseph, and Jesus greeted the visiting wise men who came following stars. Holy Hosts conjured before shepherds. The Archangel Gabriel came to a peasant girl in the backwater parts of a backwater province of the most powerful empire on Earth, uninvited. The Gospel of John begins by describing the coming of the light that never goes out, “the true light that gives light to everyone.” Matthew describes the alignment of genes that birthed God from the unlikely margins.

In the person of Jesus and in the spiritual lives of those who seek to follow after him, the Christian story is a story of movement. From heaven to earth, eternity to time, from Bethlehem to Egypt to Nazareth to Jerusalem. From the east, bearing gifts, and from a manger bearing good tidings of great joy for all people. From self-satisfied, complacent Christianity toward a suprachristian spirit of radical welcome, inclusion, and grace. From fear to love. From judgement to journey. From “am I my brother’s keeper?” to “love thy neighbor as thyself.” From a narrow politics of self-preservation and jingo to a public ethic of justice, from crushing those on the margin to crushing everything in us that keeps us from loving as God does. From the awe of Christmas to what it must mean, Epiphany’s radical welcome.