Two recent no-cost contest discoveries via CRWROPPS:
1) The Montana Festival of the Book invites submissions for its Happy Tales Literary Contest. From the guidelines: "Take any literary work with a sad, disturbing, or negative ending and supply a happy, affirmative, uplifting, humorous ending. The new ending must more or less parody the idiom, style, atmosphere, and so on, of the original." Prize includes $200 cash, the "Nahum Tate Cup," and possible reading at a public session of the Montana Festival of the Book, September 28-30, 2006, in Missoula, MT. "Winning entries will be weblished at the Festival website or published in other media." Deadline: September 18, 2006.
2) Co-sponsored by Green Mountain Power and Vermont Life, the Ralph Nading Hill, Jr. Literay Contest is open to any student or resident of Vermont. From the guidelines: "Submit your thoughts on 'Vermont, Its People, The Place, Its History, or Its Values' as an essay, short story, play or poem. Your entry must be 3,000 words or less." Unpublished work only. Prize includes $1,500 award. Deadline: November 15 (annual).
Friday, August 11, 2006
Women's Travel Misadventures Anthology Seeks Submissions (Pays: $100)
Jen Leo of WrittenRoad.com is looking for submissions for another Travelers' Tales book. Building on the success of Sand in My Bra and Other Misadventures, she has posted a call for that book's sequel: More Sand in My Bra. Click here to read Jen's post at WrittenRoad.com, which includes a link to the Travelers' Tales guidelines. Note that the deadline is coming up pretty soon (August 31 or September 1, depending on the source you check).
Monday, August 07, 2006
Blog Break
Taking a bit of a breather for a few days. Check back around August 11 for new posts, and in the meantime enjoy our archives and links.
Saturday, August 05, 2006
An Ethical Question
I've been mulling over this Ha'aretz article for awhile. It describes the resignation of a group of Israeli journalists from the International Federation of Journalists (IFJ). According to the article, their resignation followed the IFJ's general secretary's refusal to "retract his condemnation of Israel's bombing of Hezbollah's Al-Manar television station in Beirut."
So here's my question: what would you do if a leader of a professional writers' organization to which you belonged wrote, verbalized in speech, or otherwise presented, in his or her role as leader of that organization, outright biased political statements--with which you disagreed? Have you faced this kind of situation in the past? How have you responded/acted, if at all?
So here's my question: what would you do if a leader of a professional writers' organization to which you belonged wrote, verbalized in speech, or otherwise presented, in his or her role as leader of that organization, outright biased political statements--with which you disagreed? Have you faced this kind of situation in the past? How have you responded/acted, if at all?
Friday, August 04, 2006
New Editorial Calendars for Children's Magazines
My niece's third birthday is coming up, and since I've already gifted her with her first "bookcase" and plenty of books I'm turning this time to...a magazine subscription. So I've been perusing plenty of children's magazines online and, at the same time, noting submission guidelines. Some of the magazines from Carus Publishing--including Calliope, Dig, Faces, and Odyssey--have recently updated their editorial calendars and theme lists. These are all paying markets, so if you're interested in writing for children, check them out.
Thursday, August 03, 2006
Editorial Internship (Calgary: Pays $1,000/month)
Up! Magazine, the in-flight publication of WestJet airlines, seeks an "engaging writer and tenacious fact-checker interested in bringing the magic of a travel tale to various multi-media platforms" for an editorial internship. "A successful candidate will have a post-secondary education in journalism or a related field and at least a year of experience in travel and tourism media. You write, edit and proofread effectively and have great communication skills. Your skill set includes fluency in Microsoft Office, Adobe InDesign, various Apple suites, including GarageBand and online content management software."
Application deadline: August 16, 2006.
To read the full announcement, check Jeff Gaulin's Job Board.
Application deadline: August 16, 2006.
To read the full announcement, check Jeff Gaulin's Job Board.
Wednesday, August 02, 2006
A Conversation with Kevin Haworth
One pleasure of the online world is the seemingly endless opportunity it provides to "meet" other writers and learn about their excellent work. Not long ago I made the virtual acquaintance of Kevin Haworth, who recently won the Samuel Goldberg & Sons Foundation Prize for Jewish Fiction by Emerging Writers for his debut novel, The Discontinuity of Small Things (Quality Words in Print, 2005). For those who aren't familiar with this major award, it's administered by the National Foundation for Jewish Culture. Past winners include Nathan Englander, Simone Zelitch, Peter Orner, Gary Shteyngart, Lara Vapnyar, and Nancy Reisman.
And for those who aren't familiar with Haworth's novel, it's a remarkable read. Set primarily in Denmark during World War II, the novel follows several seemingly unrelated characters as their lives change--little by little--as a series of "small things" gradually takes place under Denmark's occupation by Nazi Germany. Although the novel itself is discontinuous (following disparate characters and shifting in time; I don't always appreciate such nonlinearity), in this case it all works, and Haworth skillfully weaves the various threads together. This is an affecting and effective novel; it lingers long after the last page.
Born in Brooklyn in 1971, Kevin Haworth spent most of his childhood in Summitville, NY. He graduated with honors from Vassar College in 1992; it was at Vassar that he began writing fiction, studying with novelist Thomas Mallon. After graduation, he moved to Israel to participate in Sherut La'am (Service to the People), a year-long volunteer program.
In 1995 Haworth received a teaching fellowship to Arizona State University, where he earned an M.F.A. in Fiction Writing. While there, he taught fiction workshops and published his first story, "The Story of Jonah and the Whale," which won the Permafrost Fiction Prize. (His second published story, "The Promised Land," won the David Dornstein Memorial Creative Writing Contest in 1998.) He also began work on his novel, The Discontinuity of Small Things.
In 1997 Haworth moved to Philadelphia, where his wife was attending rabbinical school. During two month-long residencies at the Vermont Studio Center, in 1999 and in 2001, Haworth worked as a carpenter and wrote long sections of his novel. He currently lives in Athens, Ohio, and teaches writing and literature at Ohio University. He is married to Rabbi Danielle Leshaw and has two children. Recently he responded to a series of my questions:
Erika Dreifus: Kevin, I've already congratulated you in our correspondence, but allow me to publicly acknowledge a recent honor--your receipt of the Samuel Goldberg & Sons Foundation Prize for Jewish Fiction by Emerging Writers for your debut novel, The Discontinuity of Small Things. How did you learn about this competition, and how did your novel come to be submitted for consideration?
Kevin Haworth: Full credit goes to my editor, Holly Gruber, who is very attentive to award competitions and submitted the book on my behalf. When you publish with a small press, literary prizes are an important way to get noticed. Of course, winning a major award is the result that everyone hopes for--but even smaller prizes can generate really welcome publicity.
ED: How did you find out you'd won the award? What was your reaction? What's changed for you since the award was announced?
KH: There's an instant legitimacy that comes with winning a national literary prize. Here at Ohio University, it has certainly attracted some notice and I hope that will develop on a larger scale as the news spreads. But most importantly, it lends that elusive concept--confidence--that might sustain a writer through the sine curve of a long career. As for how I heard--Holly, my editor, buried it in the back end of a phone call for maximum dramatic effect. I made her say it three times before I would let her get off the phone.
ED: Tell us how you came to write The Discontinuity of Small Things.
KH: It came directly out of my MFA program. In a class taught by the novelist Melissa Pritchard, we were 'encouraged'--let's say forced--to come up with a different idea for a novel each week, complete with synopsis and three-page sample. To me, this is a story about how productive waste can be for a writer. Ten weeks/ten ideas. Nine went nowhere. One led to this.
ED: This is an historical novel, set primarily in Denmark during World War II. Tell us a little about your research process.
KH: I used a number of different methods, but photographs were probably the most important. A good photograph provides you with wonderful details and an ambiguous narrative. That is a useful starting point for a writer. It supplies you with raw material, some tension, and lots of room to work. Many of the moments in the book emerged from photographs, both period ones and others that my wife took when we traveled to Denmark and Sweden to research the book about halfway through the writing process.
I also used historical accounts and discussions with people I met in Denmark, but less than one might think. For one thing, I really don't like talking to strangers. I'm just too shy for it. Second, when you write an historical novel, you really have to be wary of the history. Georg Lukacs writes in The Historical Novel, a classic book of criticism on the subject, that important events can exert an unhealthy gravity over your work. You need to be entirely familiar with the history and context, and then you need to be willing to depart from it. Only then can you write a book that is surprising.
ED: This novel was published by Quality Words in Print. Tell us how the "match" between you and your novel and the publisher developed.
KH: I liked QWIP's Web site. What I mean is: the face that QWIP presents to the world is quiet and lovely. I suspected those qualities would translate to the way that the press approached its books. So I sent some sample pages. The relationship developed from there. There was certainly no guarantee that they would appreciate the book--like everyone else, QWIP is awash in submissions--but I recognized an aesthetic kinship, and that helped. There are so many books in the world, and so many styles, that looking for a 'match,' as you say, does increase the chances of success.
ED: I read in the Cleveland Jewish News that you spent eight years working on this novel. How did you sustain momentum (and interest!) over all that time? What were some of the high (and low) points?
KH: There's no need for parentheses. The low points came regularly and with quite a bit of noise. At times, the more I wrote the harder it became. All those words--and I still didn't know if it would ever come together. When I first started sending the book out, it was almost out of desperation--to force the book into a clearer stage of success or failure.
Two elements sustained me during that time. One, I was convinced that the book mattered. Much of that is related to the inherent importance of the Holocaust and the need to explore it. But I think every writer needs to believe that there is something *big* about the story he or she is struggling to tell.
Second, I felt I had stumbled upon a unique stylistic approach. I often approached it in a detached way, like a science experiment. Let's push the style, keep changing the variables, and see what happens. I love revision, the constant pursuit of a sentence that is slightly better than the previous version. I'm still doing it, by the way. You should see how many times I've rewritten this interview.
In the long run, it's interesting how quickly one's perspective can change. I was starting to feel quite behind the curve. (You're 34! No book yet?) Now everyone's telling me I'm a young writer again.
ED: The Goldberg Prize includes, in addition to a cash award, a month's residency at the Ledig House International Writers' Colony. You've spent some time in artist communities before. How did your past residency experience(s) contribute to your work on this novel, and what are you planning to work on while you're at Ledig House?
KH: My two residencies at the Vermont Studio Center were absolutely necessary. For me, it comes down to mental and physical space. I re-made my studio in Vermont in the image of my novel--at one point, I copied nearly the whole book onto index cards and put them up on the wall. I was influenced by the visual artists who make up the majority of residents at VSC; unlike writers, they can see their whole work at once, look at it from different angles, see how individual brushstrokes affect the whole. So I did that. That was a key step in moving from a collection of sentences to a cohesive book.
The mental space is just as valuable. Separated from your everyday life, you simply spend more time with your work. Problems that seemed insurmountable at nine in the morning can be solved at five in the afternoon, when you're just walking around and thinking.
ED: Anything else you want to tell us? (reading dates, future projects, conferences, etc.)
KH: I'm still putting together my fall schedule, but it looks like it will include some visits to universities, a couple of events on behalf of the National Foundation for Jewish Culture, and some appearances at Jewish book fairs. Of course, if your readers have any terrific ideas, I'd be glad to hear them. [Editor's Note: Kevin will also be attending Jewish Book Week in London in February 2007.]
Like many writers, I'm reluctant to talk about my work-in-progress. But the book, now published, is an object. It has its own life, and I really enjoy narrating the story of that life.
ED: Thank you, Kevin!
(c) Copyright 2006 by Erika Dreifus
Note: You can find/learn more about Kevin Haworth's award-winning novel here. And because this is an ethical issue discussed on several blogs lately, please know that there is NO financial benefit to The Practicing Writer for any purchase through that link.
(Adapted from a version published in The Practicing Writer, August 2006)
And for those who aren't familiar with Haworth's novel, it's a remarkable read. Set primarily in Denmark during World War II, the novel follows several seemingly unrelated characters as their lives change--little by little--as a series of "small things" gradually takes place under Denmark's occupation by Nazi Germany. Although the novel itself is discontinuous (following disparate characters and shifting in time; I don't always appreciate such nonlinearity), in this case it all works, and Haworth skillfully weaves the various threads together. This is an affecting and effective novel; it lingers long after the last page.
Born in Brooklyn in 1971, Kevin Haworth spent most of his childhood in Summitville, NY. He graduated with honors from Vassar College in 1992; it was at Vassar that he began writing fiction, studying with novelist Thomas Mallon. After graduation, he moved to Israel to participate in Sherut La'am (Service to the People), a year-long volunteer program.
In 1995 Haworth received a teaching fellowship to Arizona State University, where he earned an M.F.A. in Fiction Writing. While there, he taught fiction workshops and published his first story, "The Story of Jonah and the Whale," which won the Permafrost Fiction Prize. (His second published story, "The Promised Land," won the David Dornstein Memorial Creative Writing Contest in 1998.) He also began work on his novel, The Discontinuity of Small Things.
In 1997 Haworth moved to Philadelphia, where his wife was attending rabbinical school. During two month-long residencies at the Vermont Studio Center, in 1999 and in 2001, Haworth worked as a carpenter and wrote long sections of his novel. He currently lives in Athens, Ohio, and teaches writing and literature at Ohio University. He is married to Rabbi Danielle Leshaw and has two children. Recently he responded to a series of my questions:
Erika Dreifus: Kevin, I've already congratulated you in our correspondence, but allow me to publicly acknowledge a recent honor--your receipt of the Samuel Goldberg & Sons Foundation Prize for Jewish Fiction by Emerging Writers for your debut novel, The Discontinuity of Small Things. How did you learn about this competition, and how did your novel come to be submitted for consideration?
Kevin Haworth: Full credit goes to my editor, Holly Gruber, who is very attentive to award competitions and submitted the book on my behalf. When you publish with a small press, literary prizes are an important way to get noticed. Of course, winning a major award is the result that everyone hopes for--but even smaller prizes can generate really welcome publicity.
ED: How did you find out you'd won the award? What was your reaction? What's changed for you since the award was announced?
KH: There's an instant legitimacy that comes with winning a national literary prize. Here at Ohio University, it has certainly attracted some notice and I hope that will develop on a larger scale as the news spreads. But most importantly, it lends that elusive concept--confidence--that might sustain a writer through the sine curve of a long career. As for how I heard--Holly, my editor, buried it in the back end of a phone call for maximum dramatic effect. I made her say it three times before I would let her get off the phone.
ED: Tell us how you came to write The Discontinuity of Small Things.
KH: It came directly out of my MFA program. In a class taught by the novelist Melissa Pritchard, we were 'encouraged'--let's say forced--to come up with a different idea for a novel each week, complete with synopsis and three-page sample. To me, this is a story about how productive waste can be for a writer. Ten weeks/ten ideas. Nine went nowhere. One led to this.
ED: This is an historical novel, set primarily in Denmark during World War II. Tell us a little about your research process.
KH: I used a number of different methods, but photographs were probably the most important. A good photograph provides you with wonderful details and an ambiguous narrative. That is a useful starting point for a writer. It supplies you with raw material, some tension, and lots of room to work. Many of the moments in the book emerged from photographs, both period ones and others that my wife took when we traveled to Denmark and Sweden to research the book about halfway through the writing process.
I also used historical accounts and discussions with people I met in Denmark, but less than one might think. For one thing, I really don't like talking to strangers. I'm just too shy for it. Second, when you write an historical novel, you really have to be wary of the history. Georg Lukacs writes in The Historical Novel, a classic book of criticism on the subject, that important events can exert an unhealthy gravity over your work. You need to be entirely familiar with the history and context, and then you need to be willing to depart from it. Only then can you write a book that is surprising.
ED: This novel was published by Quality Words in Print. Tell us how the "match" between you and your novel and the publisher developed.
KH: I liked QWIP's Web site. What I mean is: the face that QWIP presents to the world is quiet and lovely. I suspected those qualities would translate to the way that the press approached its books. So I sent some sample pages. The relationship developed from there. There was certainly no guarantee that they would appreciate the book--like everyone else, QWIP is awash in submissions--but I recognized an aesthetic kinship, and that helped. There are so many books in the world, and so many styles, that looking for a 'match,' as you say, does increase the chances of success.
ED: I read in the Cleveland Jewish News that you spent eight years working on this novel. How did you sustain momentum (and interest!) over all that time? What were some of the high (and low) points?
KH: There's no need for parentheses. The low points came regularly and with quite a bit of noise. At times, the more I wrote the harder it became. All those words--and I still didn't know if it would ever come together. When I first started sending the book out, it was almost out of desperation--to force the book into a clearer stage of success or failure.
Two elements sustained me during that time. One, I was convinced that the book mattered. Much of that is related to the inherent importance of the Holocaust and the need to explore it. But I think every writer needs to believe that there is something *big* about the story he or she is struggling to tell.
Second, I felt I had stumbled upon a unique stylistic approach. I often approached it in a detached way, like a science experiment. Let's push the style, keep changing the variables, and see what happens. I love revision, the constant pursuit of a sentence that is slightly better than the previous version. I'm still doing it, by the way. You should see how many times I've rewritten this interview.
In the long run, it's interesting how quickly one's perspective can change. I was starting to feel quite behind the curve. (You're 34! No book yet?) Now everyone's telling me I'm a young writer again.
ED: The Goldberg Prize includes, in addition to a cash award, a month's residency at the Ledig House International Writers' Colony. You've spent some time in artist communities before. How did your past residency experience(s) contribute to your work on this novel, and what are you planning to work on while you're at Ledig House?
KH: My two residencies at the Vermont Studio Center were absolutely necessary. For me, it comes down to mental and physical space. I re-made my studio in Vermont in the image of my novel--at one point, I copied nearly the whole book onto index cards and put them up on the wall. I was influenced by the visual artists who make up the majority of residents at VSC; unlike writers, they can see their whole work at once, look at it from different angles, see how individual brushstrokes affect the whole. So I did that. That was a key step in moving from a collection of sentences to a cohesive book.
The mental space is just as valuable. Separated from your everyday life, you simply spend more time with your work. Problems that seemed insurmountable at nine in the morning can be solved at five in the afternoon, when you're just walking around and thinking.
ED: Anything else you want to tell us? (reading dates, future projects, conferences, etc.)
KH: I'm still putting together my fall schedule, but it looks like it will include some visits to universities, a couple of events on behalf of the National Foundation for Jewish Culture, and some appearances at Jewish book fairs. Of course, if your readers have any terrific ideas, I'd be glad to hear them. [Editor's Note: Kevin will also be attending Jewish Book Week in London in February 2007.]
Like many writers, I'm reluctant to talk about my work-in-progress. But the book, now published, is an object. It has its own life, and I really enjoy narrating the story of that life.
ED: Thank you, Kevin!
(c) Copyright 2006 by Erika Dreifus
Note: You can find/learn more about Kevin Haworth's award-winning novel here. And because this is an ethical issue discussed on several blogs lately, please know that there is NO financial benefit to The Practicing Writer for any purchase through that link.
(Adapted from a version published in The Practicing Writer, August 2006)
Tuesday, August 01, 2006
Helpful Hint on Freelance Job Listings
Learned something helpful from the MediaBistro.com discussion boards this morning: JournalismJobs.com now posts freelance writing opportunities apart from its "regular" job listings (I was wondering what had happened--seemed to me JournalismJobs had very few freelance listings lately). Find the calls for freelancers here.
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