Bread Loaf Writers’ Conference 2009

8/12/2009 12:19 AM I’m on the plane to the Bread Loaf. I held Oliver tightly when we said goodbye at the Oakland airport. When he got home, he cried for a long time. This is the Oliver who wouldn’t let me eat his food because it would be “wasted” on Mommy. In a way he loves me more passionately than he’ll ever be capable of when he grows older.

The other day I told Qin that my boys love to “torment” me—the one they love the most. They cling to me as if there’s no tomorrow, they order me about like little tyrants (Oliver often said his legs are too sore for him to move a step, so I had to carry him). The net result of this “abuse” is that they attach themselves completely to me and to no other. When they grow up, they’ll remember the Mommy they love beyond all reason and words. They won’t remember what they love about me, the old fragile woman that I become, but that they’re devoted to me, feel home with me, and don’t want to let me go.

Who says children only take? Here is the reward of motherhood.

8/28/2009 12:40 PM What I take away from the Bread Loaf, more than the lectures, readings, critiques, and craft, is the confidence that no matter how hectic my life gets, I am entitled to sit down and write, because someday, people will hear it from the Little Theater, the Blue Parlor, the Laundry Room, or even the mosquito-infested meadow that takes your breath away. Thank you, beautiful people, I’ll remember you.

Story Needs a Center of Gravity

It should make you excited and want to sink your teeth into the material. You feel the danger, because you’re on a collision course with destiny.

Excitement doesn’t come from shouting, but rather it comes from the energy that you put into it. You turn the material inside and out, over and again, attack it from all sides until it’s done properly. If you cruise along and turn clever tricks, you take no risks, even if you kill off a slew of people. Danger comes when you face your own fears.

Of many things in life, fear cannot be faked. You feel fear when you fall in love (otherwise it’s only infatuation). You feel fear when you lose your loved ones. You feel fear when your fundamental values are challenged. You feel fear when you need to survive but don’t know how you can go on for another day. These things may not matter to other people, but they are earth-shattering to you. You cannot turn away but have to face them head on.

Emotional danger outweighs physical danger. Constant physical danger becomes contrived, repetitive, and boring, like action films, 007. It’s called: one damn thing after another. Maybe that’s life, but art is more refined, moving, and beautiful than life, because art is not real.