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rambles and half-essays

Tag: reading

  • following up and nonfiction

    KM Brunner

    I learned a lesson last week and that was to follow up with publications if they haven’t responded to your submission in months. I had a piece accepted (“Sellout,” link on my works page) by a small digital magazine and they just…hadn’t posted it.

    That’s on them, of course, but it was nice to get an acceptance in my inbox, even if I had to remind them of the piece.

    If I’m being honest, it was a throwaway; I wrote it off a long time ago, and I’m flattered they decided to give it some attention.

    I’ve returned to nonfiction (and a bad romance novel, which has been fun) since I completed it. It’s not a reflection of my current work, but it feels like a time capsule, in a way. And so I enjoy it.

    It’s also flash, which helps. Not much to be insecure about when the piece is around 500 words.

    I feel weird about my return to nonfiction. Part of me feels bad, like I’m invalidating my years of writing fiction (during which I got nowhere), and another part of me is excited. It feels like a homecoming. I likely needed to write fiction for a while so I could see nonfiction for what it is: storytelling in community.

    If you tell a real story, it usually involves people. People-ing usually involves friends, family, coworkers, etc., and so in the act of telling a true story, you must write about an ecosystem of people rather than just your “subject.”

    My years of studying communication, philosophy, and circulation theory haunt me.

    Writing in community is thrilling. It’s frightening if your subject is still alive, but I find it easier to write about systems and stories and big questions when the narrative is tethered to reality. Does that make me a fraud? Because I’m definitely not a journalist, nor am I a memoirist.

    What I am is up for debate, but a friend recently outed me as a historian to myself. If you spend hours – weeks – researching a subject because you’re consumed by it, create spreadsheets and reach out to archives, really immerse yourself…you’re doing historian stuff.

    You’d think I would clock that but I often surprise myself.

    My immediate reaction to the news was embarrassment. I used to think of historians as people who studied war, a subject that I find upsetting. But they’re not just that; of course they aren’t. They’re doing what I like to do: tell stories about systems.

    Again, I’ve nothing to leave you with but a reminder to check in with any mags who haven’t responded to your submissions, and a little recommendations list.

    Podcast: Behind the Bastards, hosted by Robert Evans

    Things:

    • Been into drawing more lately and I like soft pencils. This is my favorite.
    • Got a new air conditioner and it’s been a revelation.
    • I’m into plants now and really want a moonshine snake plant. Here’s an example. There might be one at Home Depot and I’m planning to go liberate it on the 3rd.

  • journaling and being mean in secret

    KM Brunner

    Most days I journal before I go to bed. Though the entries are exceptional only in their mediocrity, I’m fine with that. I endeavor to be bad when I’m writing for myself. I like that I can get to a place where I stop trying. The entries can be, sometimes, mean-spirited and arrogant. They can be full of yearning and are often (embarrassingly) pathetic. I read one recently that made me want to vomit, it was so delusional. Made me think:

    She just didn’t like you that much, you nitwit.

    But I have to put that garbage somewhere. Lately I’ve found myself interested in the act of journaling, of my process and others’. My process is unremarkable. I’d like to start writing things that matter, eventually. Seems like more work, but I want the entries to be more fun for my future self. Ideally, in a few years I could sit and, entry by entry, watch myself develop. Instead I’ve got lists of each day’s events and my failings (which doesn’t make for great reading).

    I have complicated feelings about reading the private writings of anyone, even long-dead authors, but a few days ago I read two of Virginia Woolf’s diary entries. They’re hilarious in their frankness and their fearlessness. Though it makes me feel a little sick, I’m going to include a couple lines because the writing made me laugh out loud.

    “I’m somehow reminded of an excellent highly polished well seasoned brown boot by the look of him.”

    “The book is a disgracefully sloppy sentimental rhapsody, leaving Rupert rather tarnished.”

    In some ways I suppose you could read her diary as unkind, but it’s a goddamn diary. Mine can be downright malicious. I am thrilled that they’ll never have a reader.

    In some ways you could consider this blog a journal but it’s not. It’s for you, not for me. I know someone might read these posts so I’m careful, more specific with my wording, etc.- even if the writing reads casually. I make Decisions (cap-D) here. In my journal, sometimes I don’t even write the words out, just the first letters.

    Also, my cursive is illegible. Someone called it “personal hieroglyphics” once. It’s doctor cursive, if you know what I mean. 

    I wish I structured this post to end with a lesson, or with a conclusion at all, but I started with no plan and it seems I’ll finish with only loose ends. That’s okay.

    Recommendations:

    Music:

    God. Get ready to cry. Jason Isbell is one of the great lyricists of our generation. He’s a folk artist with an Americana vibe. He sings this song with his wife.

    I really dislike the music video so here’s a live performance:

    https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JV7c8V5XLk8
    1. Turned my cellphone screen to greyscale and I hate it even more. It’s been fantastic. My screentime is down to like 45 minutes a day, maximum. Now if only I could match that with my computer. I’m working on it!
    2. Just read the bit of the Old Testament where David and Johnathan become besties and oh my God is it gay. The wording is just like wedding vows and it’s WILD. Love that Christians simply ignore it (I’m livid).
    3. This person (D’Angelo) is making shortish video essays at a worrying rate, but they’re fabulous:
    https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bmNTwFdC9L0

  • my hope lives in picture books

    KM Brunner

    Yesterday, I stopped in a bookshop/cafe I often visit and ate my regular croissant. Afterward, I decided to take a look at the children’s books because I have some young cousins who are growing up in a rural area and I worry for them. I found some amazing pieces, a few of which made me cry in public. Embarrassing.

    I’ve been going through a tough time and for some reason, these books struck me pretty profoundly. It was confusing until I thought it through. But regardless, I’m here to tell you about a few of them:

    The Last Stardog by E.K. Mosley

    This piece is about finding family, feeling alone, and hope. Though the story is amazing, the art is just as impactful. It’s about a creature called a stardog, who lives in the stars. He falls out of the sky and meets some friends. I am not going to spoil it for you; you have to read the thing. It’s beautiful.

    Molly’s Tuxedo by Vicki Johnson

    I was a kid who felt very alone. I felt uncomfortable in my clothes and didn’t always see my own face when I looked in the mirror. Seeing that experience in a picture book took me by surprise and I couldn’t read the whole thing in the shop. I just bought it and then sobbed after reading it at home.

    It really healed something in me that I didn’t know was broken. Molly is given a choice what she wants to wear on picture day: a dress or her brother’s tuxedo.

    This one was a recommendation from one of the employees who I’m CERTAIN was out for blood. Molly’s got red hair just like me.

    The Boy with the Big, Big Feelings by Britney Winn Lee

    One of my younger cousins is a little boy who has a lot of anxiety. He’s shy and afraid sometimes. I used to be, too. I can’t imagine what it’s like to be his mom; the kid’s different from the others and children can be so cruel. This book shows that boys can have big feelings, and that’s okay. I want my little cousin to grow up knowing that emotions are not a weakness and this book addresses that directly.

    Then of course they sent me home with My Shadow is Pink because I need it for my library. A lot of queer folks have books like that on hand, just in case they meet a kid who needs to know that they’re not wrong for feeling like they do.

    I spent a lot of money but I don’t mind at all. The books were all so beautiful and I felt privileged to be able to read them, honestly. Though a lot of things are happening in the world that are horrific and discouraging, books like these tell me that in some ways, we are still progressing.