Somewhere in the archives I mentioned the 80’s version of American Gladiators, specifically Malibu’s incredible post-injury interview. And now, in keeping with the holiday season, I will re-gift this interview:
So the semester is almost over, and I’m officially tired of my own critical voice. For years I struggled to quiet that voice, and now it’s been unleashed on my classmates. Does it help? Perhaps. Who can say. We carry so much bias that I wonder if any criticism helps, or if we choose to listen to the criticisms that most closely mirror our own doubts.
Again, I come back to this: why not workshop a Cheever story, or a Hemingway? They won’t be offended if we rip into ‘em. At the very least we push back that curtain and inspect the guts of the machine, because craft always needs de-mystifying.
It’s unseasonably warm in Buffalo. I’m working on a faux-Poe story for my 19th c. American Lit class–complete with tilting cobblestone paths, ice-sheathed wintry nights, etc.–and the weather isn’t helping. Midwestern Gothic carries its own distinct flavor, a rust-and-patina version of the New England Gothic without the awesome housing vernacular, but Buffalo has let me down. No snow, no cold nights. It’s gone all temperate.
