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BYOB Archive for March, 2009

BYOB – Dallas

36 Comments »

BYOB – Thursday The 26th

44 Comments »

BYOB – Humpday

67 Comments »

BYOB For A New Week

61 Comments »

BYOB Weekend

52 Comments »

BYOBermuda

45 Comments »

BYOB – Almost Wednesday In The City

The city never sleeps… but I must…

61 Comments »

BYOB – Travel Tuesday

At the start of a long journey (26 days), I want to make sure the doors are locked, the electronics are off, that I have all the toys I need for the trip… and that things in here stay civil. It is on long trips like this when suddenly, one day, a bunch of e-mails start coming in, begging me to wrangle this commenter or that one.
Please… no drunk commenting… no boners… no bold and capped abuse.
I will not be truly unavailable for a few days… but I am hoping that all of you will set the tone the you would like to see as the tone for all, not to turn this blog space into your own personal soapbox.
Thanks… back in a few hours…

75 Comments »

BYOB – Monday

Civility.

175 Comments »

BYOB Sunday

27 Comments »

BYOB Weekend

78 Comments »

BYOB Thursday 3-12=-09

sunshinecleaning.jpg
Sunshine Cleaning cleans up… my house.

32 Comments »

BYOB – Humpday 31109

52 Comments »

BYOB – A New Week

Hopefully, some of the louder people – well, one – will be calmer this week.
Not a whole lot going on these days… maybe y’all have something great to chat about…

127 Comments »

BYOB 368

I’ve been learning/wwrestling with new technology in the form of AVCHD… looks great… but all kinds of new formatting issues. Once I figure them out, I think it will be a love affair. Until then, frustrating as hell. But we have some great stuff from Bill Mechanic, Mary Stewart Masterson/Kristin Stewart/Aaron Stanford, and Mark Duplass coming your way with more after that as I head into my annual March/April travel frenzy.
Meanwhile, I leave you some more space to talk amongst yourselves… thanks for being civil…

34 Comments »

Quote Unquotesee all »

“Chad Harbach spent ten years writing his novel. It was his avocation, for which he was paid nothing, with no guarantee he’d ever be paid anything, while he supported himself doing freelance work, for which I don’t think he ever made $30,000 a year. I sold his book for an advance that equated to $65,000 a year—before taxes and commission—for each of the years of work he’d put in. The law schools in this country churn out first-year associates at white-shoe firms that pay them $250,000 a year, when they’re twenty-five years of age, to sit at a desk doing meaningless bullshit to grease the wheels of the corporatocracy, and people get upset about an excellent author getting $65,000 a year? Give me a fucking break.”
~ Book Agent Chris Parris-Lamb On The State Of The Publishing Industry

INTERVIEWER
Do you think this anxiety of yours has something to do with being a woman? Do you have to work harder than a male writer, just to create work that isn’t dismissed as being “for women”? Is there a difference between male and female writing?

FERRANTE
I’ll answer with my own story. As a girl—twelve, thirteen years old—I was absolutely certain that a good book had to have a man as its hero, and that depressed me. That phase ended after a couple of years. At fifteen I began to write stories about brave girls who were in serious trouble. But the idea remained—indeed, it grew stronger—that the greatest narrators were men and that one had to learn to narrate like them. I devoured books at that age, and there’s no getting around it, my models were masculine. So even when I wrote stories about girls, I wanted to give the heroine a wealth of experiences, a freedom, a determination that I tried to imitate from the great novels written by men. I didn’t want to write like Madame de La Fayette or Jane Austen or the Brontës—at the time I knew very little about contemporary literature—but like Defoe or Fielding or Flaubert or Tolstoy or Dostoyevsky or even Hugo. While the models offered by women novelists were few and seemed to me for the most part thin, those of male novelists were numerous and almost always dazzling. That phase lasted a long time, until I was in my early twenties, and it left profound effects.
~ Elena Ferrante, Paris Review Art Of Fiction No. 228

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