Flash fiction:
Blank by Peter Mehlman in SmokeLong Quarterly.
Everything by CB Anderson in SmokeLong Quarterly.
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Kim Addonizio
Rejection letters—Get used to them. “Butch it up, Kim,” said my writer friend Lisa Glatt, once when I was whining to her on the phone. If you don’t want to be rejected, don’t send out.
Better odds of acceptance: work seriously for 7-10 years first before sending.
The logic: just because it’s rejected doesn’t mean it’s bad.
Just because it’s published doesn’t mean it’s any good.
And: The work is more important than the publication, but you may not really understand that until you are published.
Also: it is actually very easy to get published. Somewhere. By someone. Once that happens, it will not be enough. You will want to be published somewhere else, somewhere better. Then you will want books, then awards for the books, then big grants and fellowships and endowed chairs, and then eternal youth. The desire to publish is usually composed of a dash of desire to give one’s gifts, like vermouth in a double martini. The drink itself is ego and insecurity. I call this the Pinocchio Syndrome: Publish me! I’m only a wooden puppet writer! Make me a real writer!
The work is more important.
If you achieve success in publication, further rejections are inevitable.
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NEW YORK TIMES ARTICLEFor Some, the Words Just Roll Off the Tongue
By DONALD G. McNEIL Jr.
Published: November 22, 2006
For the big dinner on Thursday, perhaps a plump bird stuffed with Stephanie and served with giblet civil, accompanied by roast Londons, a bowl of performs with pearl unions, and marshmallow-topped microscopes. And, for dessert, city a la mode, followed by a confession.
No, your eyes do not deceive you. But if you were a lexical-gustatory synaesthete, your tongue might — and you would already feel full.
People who have synaesthesia — a rare condition that runs in families — have “joined senses.” They “see” letters or numbers or musical notes as colors — a capital A will be tinged red, or 5 plus 2 will equal blue, or B.B. King will play the yellows.
Rare as that is, there is an even rarer variation, said Julia Simner, a cognitive neuropsychologist and synaesthesia expert at the University of Edinburgh. Lexical-gustatories involuntarily “taste” words when they hear them, or even try to recall them, she wrote in a study, “Words on the Tip of the Tongue,” published in the issue of Nature dated Thursday. She has found only 10 such people in Europe and the United States.
Magnetic-resonance imaging indicates that they are not faking, she said. The correct words light up the taste regions of their brains. Also, when given a surprise test a year later, they taste the same foods on hearing the words again.
(Synaesthetes are hardly ever described as “suffering from” the syndrome, because their doubled perceptions excite envy in many of us mere sensual Muggles.)
It can be unpleasant, however. One subject, Dr. Simner said, hates driving, because the road signs flood his mouth with everything from pistachio ice cream to ear wax.
And Dr. Simner has yet to figure out any logical pattern.
For example, the word “mince” makes one subject taste mincemeat, but so do rhymes like “prince.” Words with a soft “g,” as in “roger” or “edge,” make him taste sausage. But another subject, hearing “castanets,” tastes tuna fish. Another can taste only proper names: John is his cornbread, William his potatoes.
They cannot explain the links, she said. There is no Proustian madeleine moment — the flavors are just there.
But all have had the condition since childhood, so chocolate is commonly tasted, while olives and gin are not.
And, sadly, even her American subjects don’t seem overwhelmed by salivary Thanksgiving memories.
Dr. Simner tests hundreds of words, and when she was asked to check her list for today’s dinner ingredients, she came up with “Stephanie” linked to sage stuffing, “civil” to gravy, “London” and “head” to potato, “perform” to peas, “union” to onions, “microscope” to carrots, “city” to mince pie and “confess” to coffee.
But, alas, no turkey. Or cranberry sauce.
“I can give you a whole fry-up English breakfast,” she said apologetically. “But not a Thanksgiving dinner.”
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Lan Vo
2629 Pali Highway, at (808) 595-2207
Honolulu, Hawaii
Books:
100 Strokes of the Brush Before Bed (Melissa P.)
The Scent of Your Breath (Melissa P.)
A crazy occupation (Jamie Tarabay)
Band:
A Bande Apart
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