The Shit

(*“The shit” is an expression I recently learned. I was madly gushing about Gaiman and The Sandman to Jovan when this guy sitting on the couch next to us said, “Gaiman’s the shit.”
I smiled at the guy and asked “What?” as politely as I could, even though I was so flustered my question came out as “Whatwhatwhat?”
“The shit. Gaiman is the shit.”
Still smiling, but barely. “How could – what do – but he’s –“
Jovan hurriedly explained. “’The shit,’ ‘the shit,’ that means Gaiman’s cool.”
“Oh.” I said, blinking. “Oh!”
I let it sink.
“Yeah, yeah! The shit! Gaiman is the shit!”)

I finally met Darcey Steinke, our literature seminar instructor. The concept of her course is a comparative study of two novels at a time: one a “classic,” the other a contemporary novel that has been influenced by, or is a response to the classic. My verdict: Darcey rocks (quite literally, too: she had that rock star look that immediately endeared her to me) and her syllabus is the shit. Some of my friends in the class though are not as thrilled as I am. I was whooping it out to Siobhan and she shrugged and said, “I’m just sort of excited.”
“But isn’t this cool! We’re gonna be so busy! Weekly prose exercises! Lengthy and deep discussions! This is so high standard!”
Siobhan started pummeling me with her fists, squealing, “Oh, you nerd!”
Ye-bah! I like being nerdy – or rather, I like being given challenges that force me to become nerdy. It’s hard for people who have full-time jobs, though I’m feeling a bit overwhelmed, too. I’m already supposed to submit a couple of things to Tor next week, and I have to read Heart of Darkness, write a discussion question about it, and write my one page imitation. Plus, I have to add a few more pages to my thesis, and attend a poetry class tomorrow. Yikes!

All this pressure is what I’ve been wishing for. Got my wish – now it’s all up to me. Oh crap. (Deep breath) Discipline and belief. That’s what I need to survive the next four months. It’s all going to be about happy accidents, I guess. Amazingly, everything has been working for me these past few months. I don’t always get what I want, but I have been getting what I need. There have been disappointments, but some force, I feel, is allowing me to survive and love New York and the New School. Money – my big issue – is thankfully always available. Not plentiful – I just have enough to get by. But I am never in dire need. When the well starts running dry, some generous accident fills it up again.

So, this semester will be brutal but healthy. It will be the first time in a long time that writing will become my priority again. And this time, I will have to learn to balance it with “real life.”

One fear that I will have difficulty in overcoming is the feeling of being so under-read. I have always considered myself well-read, but because I have been shifting concentrations so madly that there are books I keep on missing. I miss reading fiction. I’m glad that last semester’s Saturday classes kept me in the loop…but the titles that my fiction classmates were reciting from an endless list in their heads. Patay. I feel so illiterate.

At least I know there’s never a day I don’t read.

Darcey’s point though: how should a writer read? I understood the language of film quite easily, but I have underestimated the formula, the mechanism of literature. I hope that’s what I finally manage to learn, after all these years.

Chew on This (Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland is my favorite book, and virtually every line is quotable)

“But I don’t want to go among mad people,” Alice remarked.
“Oh you ca’n’t help that,” said the Cat: “we’re all mad here. I’m mad, you’re mad.”
“How do you know I’m mad?” said Alice.
“You must be,” said the Cat, “or you wouldn’t have come here.”

Lewis Carroll
From Alice’s Adventure’s in Wonderland