cult following

Denis Johnson's new book, Tree of Smoke, was chosen for the National Book Award. I've been a Denis Johnson fan for years—my friend Laurie knows his sister-in-law and promotes her parties by claiming that he just might show up. I find it hopeful that someone like him, with a cult following but not, from what I can tell, a lot of success otherwise, could be recognized with a National Book Award. My editor told me once that I have a cult following, but they seem to buy one book and pass it around.
If anybody knows Denis Johnson, tell him to go to Laurie's next party, would you.

the unbearable lightness of being

Today I heard on the radio that the people in Burma were happy when, during the recent demonstrations, films were made and broadcast for the world to see. Unfortunately the world saw and very little has happened. And now the junta is using those films, checking them frame by frame, to hunt down protesters.

Avoiding the Appearance of Shameless Self Promotion

Okay, my sister says: what the hell does that mean, left edge suzy? She's from Texas and they are very literal. Also, this is how she said it: wut the hail duz thet me-un?
And here is the answer: I don't want to give the blog my own name because that seems narcissistic, but maybe personal blogs are inherently narcissistic and who am I fooling?
I named it left edge because I live in Oregon and Oregon is the left edge of the map. There used to be, by the way, a great newspaper put out by Billy Hults in Cannon Beach, Oregon, called The Upper Left Edge, but I didn't copy him.
Suzy is the name of the character in the first short story I ever wrote, Suzy Joins the Sex Club. Even though I think Suzy is dead wrong about feelings being the most important thing in the world, I do admire her honest passion and I like her name.

Wordstock, competiton and Margaret Atwood

This past weekend, I taught a writing workshop for teachers and gave a reading at Portland's annual book festival, Wordstock—a big, noisy, raucous event. I was lucky to be chosen to read with Cai Emmons from Eugene.
I've been thinking lately about competition. I've been thinking that the worst thing for me, creatively, is when I set myself up next to others, when I scrutinize myself and second guess my writing, when I begin to wonder, who is better. As if that's ever the point.
Years ago at a workshop Ken Babbs said that we should never begrudge another writer's talent or success. Every piece of good writing, and every acknowledgment of it, is a success for each of us.
I'm reading Margaret Atwood's The Robber Bride. I heard her read and lecture thirty years ago and for some reason the only thing I can remember is that she talked about pornography. She described a horrific pornographic photograph and ever afterwards, sorry Margaret, I have not been able to unlink that image from your name. Babbs gets his bit of wisdom, but you get rats in the vagina. Not fair, but that's memory for you. I have two thoughts when I read someone as good at Atwood:
1. I can never be this good
2. look what the written word can do