Present Tense

I think it means I am rummy from lack of sleep. I woke up this morning thinking of lines from a narrative in present tense. I have never wanted to write in present tense before, but after hearing a number of readings in present tense, I am now dreaming stories in the moment. I tell you this as a warning. There is just no telling what I am going to write.

Yesterday my workshop group met for the first time. Our group rotates between Valerie Miner and Craig Lesley in one session and John Rember in the next. Yesterday we worked with Valerie Miner and Craig Lesley. I felt ill-prepared and found that my discomfort with knowing that I hadn't completely read the stories of the two other writers, thanks to the events of the previous night, made it less productive for me than it might otherwise ave been.

We actually did some work in the class in general terms. We talked about flash fiction and were given an assignment. Yes, we were asked to write a micro fiction (or non-fiction--some of the students in our group are non-fiction) of 250 words involving work. We read an example of such a story in the group and were given another one to read on our own.

Then we started workshopping. (Linda think it's funny that I made a verb out of work shop, but this is America and that's the way we got away from the King's English, for better or worse.) We do two or three people's work shop submissions, called worksheets, in each session. Yesterday we workshopped one fiction writer and one non-fiction writer's pieces.

We were given guidelines at the beginning, which we read aloud, each student reading one and going around the room. Things to do and things not to do when critiquing. I realized how helpful this was when I got back to my room and talked to Abby, my poetry , about her workshop group where apparently they all ripped each other's poems apart.

After the workshop we went to lunch and several of my workshop members, including me, ate with the two faculty members. I discovered in the workshop introductions that another one of the workshop members, Mindie, came from Ann Arbor. She works for Pfizer. She will only be around a few more months. She said she it as an opportunity to do something different. She lives not far from Marc and me, somewhere around Ellsworth and Hewitt.

There was a weird moment when we were walking to the University Center where lunches take place. I was walking next to Valerie Miner and she asked me how I was settling in. I said fine, that I was tired. And then, because I am a moron, one of those annoying people who answers polite social questions with too much information, I let drop that I had been to the emergency room the night before. I realized my error immediately, though too late. Of course she asked me what had happened and my sleep deprived brain realized I could not simply say, I stepped on a thistle bush. Without considering the consequences, I said I had a puncture wound--which would have been enough maybe, but instead I followed it up with something about being diabetic. Ms. Miner had already started tuning me out. She looked around and I stoped talking. She mumbled something about insulin. In fact, I think she just said "insulin," and continued to scan the room, probably looking for someone she absolutely had to talk to right then so that she could walk away from me. Apparently she didn't see anyone, because then she turned back to me and mumbled, "How does it affect your...?" Then she started scanning again. Then she just walked away, or tried to, but I had to go in that direction as well and it seemed as if we were in mid-sentence of a conversation, although one that we both wished was not happening. I took a step in the same direction and she turned back to me and said, "You don't have to follow me. I'm just going to put something down. " Then she noticed that other people from the workshop were still walking behind us and she asked whether we would all like to eat together. We found a table and left our things there, and I only felt a little like a moron. I joked about it with Abby later, telling her that it was the last conversation I would have with Valerie Miner--except that she was my workshop leader. This doesn't really look much like joke on paper, but when I said it, I did it in the Amanda Dallo style--I won't be talking to Valerie Miner again EXCEPT THAT SHE'S MY WORKSHOP LEADER." Then we both cracked up.

Actually later when my roomies and I were walking into the amphitheatre where the faculty readings were being held, Ms. Miner was there. The room where our workshop took place had a loud air conditioning vent which made a lot of noise the entire time we were in class. Ms. Miner had asked us to complain about it to the director to see if we could get a different room. We saw the director on our way into the amphitheatre and she told us that they had turned off the air. So when Linda and I saw Ms. Miner in the amphitheatre lobby and she smiled and asked us how it was going, Linda said, "It was fixed." I had no idea what Linda was talking about. I thought she meant that the workshop was fixed, as in a bet that was fixed. Valerie looked puzzled and Linda said the air conditioning. I laughed and said, "I thought you meant the workshop," and Ms. Miner laughed and said, "So did I." Linda was mortified, but I told her that I thought it was just a joke and Ms. Miner probably did, too.

The reading was Jack Driscoll and Craig Lesley. Mr. Driscoll read a new, unpublished short story that he had just finished before leaving Michigan. Mr. Lesley read some excerpts from a memoir about his relationship with his father. Mr. Driscoll's short story was amazing. It wasn't speculative, but it might as well have been. It seemed as improbable as any fantasy and yet it was anchored firmly in this world. Afterward I bought his novel, Lucky Man, Lucky Woman and stood in line to get his signature on it. I told him that I was from Michigan. He lives near Traverse City and teaches at Interlochen. His demeanor changed when he found out I was from Michigan and he told me how he had come to teach at Pacific. He said it was because of Pete Fromm and that originally he had thought he was only going to be there for one semester. Apparently he only takes two students a semester. I put him on my list of possible advisors turned in weeks ago, but having heard and met him, I feel more strongly about it now.

Craig Lesley, one of my workshop leaders, was the other reader. His memoir had the intensity of fiction. I've been so impressed with all the faculty so far

Later, all four of us came back to our apartment and sat in the living room and read writing to each other. It reminded me of the writing group back home. I have started editing out the words "am," "is,","was," and "were" where I can, replacing them with strong verbs. I'm surprised how often I use them.


Well, six forty-nine. I need to do a draft of my micro fiction, which solidified in my mind last night, before going to Claire Davis's talk on how to write about sex. I think I am going to write in present tense.