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2. What was the crisis you faced? What happened, and when it did, what did you feel and experience?

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4. Once you turned the corner mentally or emotionally, what did you do to turn your life around?

5. How is your life better today because you lived through the crisis? How have you transformed? How are you stronger emotionally, physically, spiritually? What gifts do you have to give because of this?

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On Friday, Russia drew the kind of fire from the Iranian President that he usually reserves for the worst of the kafirs in the United States. As reported today by Iran's Fars news agency, Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad said his Russian counterpart had joined the show “written and directed by the United States.” He also grouped Russia with other “liars and cowards” who questioned the intent of Iran's nuclear program.

The attack was aimed specifically at Russian President Dmitry Medvedev, who has positioned himself opposite Prime Minister Vladimir Putin on this issue. Medvedev's support for the new UN sanctions against Iran on June 9 served as a prelude to his adorable meeting with President Barack Obama two weeks later, when the two presidents shared an order of fries at Ray's Hell Burger outside Washington. Then on July 12 Medvedev became the first Russian leader to echo the West's insistence that Iran is close to building a bomb. Russia, he said a few days later, “could not be indifferent” to this.

But as Putin and his ministers have made clear, Russia is also not indifferent to angering the Islamic Republic. The two are historical allies and major trading partners, especially in the business of weapons, fuel and atomic energy. So in his rhetoric at least, Putin has kept up the appearance of loyalty.

The day before the U.N. Security Council voted on the sanctions, Putin met with Ahmadinejad in Istanbul and insisted that Iran's nuclear program is peaceful. “I'm of the opinion that the resolution should not be unnecessary, should not put Iran's leadership or the Iranian people into difficulty,” Putin said that day. It was nothing like the hugs and giggles Putin and Ahmadinejad shared in Tehran in 2007, but it was still a strong show of support.

Yet when it came time to vote the following day, Russia backed the sanctions, which have undoubtedly hurt both the leadership and the people of Iran. As a result, Putin's reputation took an unusually tough blow. He came away looking like either a weakling or a snake.

Since then, Russia's policy has tilted in the other direction as it tries to get Iran to forget about that whole sanctions thing and be friends again. On July 14, Putin's energy minister said Russia would continue selling fuel to Iran, a costly move, as it would violate the unilateral sanctions imposed by Europe and the United States. Russian fuel suppliers like Lukoil, which has thousands of gas stations in the US, including one a few miles from the White House, could thus be exposed to the US sanctions unless Obama issues a special waiver.

More worryingly for everyone involved, the head of Russia's arms trading monopoly said on July 15 that it might still sell Iran the S-300 missile system, which would immunize its nuclear program from any U.S. or Israeli airstrikes. Any decision to cancel this sale, the arms dealer said, could only be made by Medvedev.

All of this exemplifies the tag-team style of leadership that Putin and Medvedev have going. Medvedev has taken the role of the burger-eating, twitter-loving westernizer of the nation, while Putin provides the counter weight by remaining a hard-ass, skeptical of America's role in the world and friendly with the likes of Venezuela and Iran. None of this should be taken as proof of tensions between the two.

They have simply realized that, one, they need support and investment from the West to plug the leaks in Russia's economy, and two, Putin isn't the best man for that job. His reputation as an aggressive Russian nationalist (which works wonders for his popularity at home) has eroded his ability to make friends with the US and its closest allies. So Medvedev has stepped in (or been inserted) to do the job with his dopey, harmless-looking smile, and it seems to be working. American companies are signing on to the Russian Silicon Valley project, and just look at how neatly Medvedev and Obama made the whole spy scandal go away.

But the Iranian venom on Friday demonstrates that this duplicity will not always work. On some of the most important issues of global affairs, Russia will need to take sides, and unless it's friendship with the Americans starts paying serious dividends soon, it will be very reluctant to alienate its traditional allies any further.

Russia's weapons sales to Iran are alone worth about $500 million per year. And if Iran gets really annoyed, it can act as a spoiler for Russia in several ways. It can finance the Islamic insurgency in the North Caucasus; it can undercut Russia in the gas trade with Turkmenistan; and more broadly, it can begin acting as a rival to Russia's influence in Central Asia, where money talks, Islam is spreading, and old Soviet loyalties don't count for much anymore.

Iran, of course, is also deeply reliant on Russian fuel supplies, so it would not take lightly any move against the Kremlin. But as Ahmadinejad showed on Friday, it is ready to start bashing Russia for its perceived allegiance to the West, and Russia hates to be seen at home or abroad as an American stooge. It has gone along with the sanctions so far in exchange for a couple of concrete favors, most notably Obama's decision to pull the U.S. missile shield back away from Russia's border. But if that support is to continue, the U.S. will need to start dishing out more treats to keep Russia on its side against Iran.

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For $10 a month, MOG offers a library of 8 million songs that users can stream over 3G and Wi-Fi, as well as download direct to their phone. It's the first app in this space that's really made us consider the monthly fee in exchange for the ease of access to a massive collection of music. Right now, MOG is offering a 3-day free trial (no credit card required, so it isn't one of those “you need to call to cancel” scams) to tempt users with its vast collection and feature set. And we have to admit, we're tempted.

The app is much like the one we saw at SXSW in March, providing an “all-you-can-eat” service that surpasses competitors with its ability to download any music available on the service for offline play. It's library of 8 million songs – while smaller than Rhapsody's 10 million – is certainly impressive, but immediately showed some gaps and possible bugs on first inspection. For example, when searching for “The Stereo” – a pop-punk group – the app listed a number of their albums alongside those of “Stereo” – a club/dance electronic group. While this is understandable, all of “The Stereo”'s albums were shown as available, but clicking on the “play album” and “download album” buttons did nothing, as it turned out no songs were actually available. Beyond this, initial tests of the catalog had varied results, with some more rare albums showing up and others not.

Two features, we think, really set MOG's mobile offering apart and they are its radio feature and the ability to download songs, albums and even entire discographies to save locally for whenever 3G is iffy or unavailable. The radio feature, which is much like Pandora, streams music according to whatever artist you chose. It has a slider to tune the station between focusing solely on songs from that artist to sampling songs from similar artists to anywhere in between. As for downloads, songs are downloaded as 64 kbps AAC+ unless you turn on the “high quality downloads” in the settings, which selects a 320 kbps MP3 format, but we found the audio of the low quality just fine for some ear buds. Of course, if you actually have some decent headphones or speakers, you may chose otherwise.

The final aspect of MOG mobile is music discovery. MOG offers a few ways to discover new music, from the just-mentioned radio feature to user created playlists – a feature we know many were excited to see with (still unavailable in the U.S.) Spotify. When searching, you can chose the standards – artist, album or song – as well as playlists. It's a great way to find new music that others are listening to. Beyond that, MOG offers its own charts for popular songs, albums and artists, as well as a selection of popular albums, radio stations and playlists.

The $10 service includes both Web and mobile access, meaning you can set up playlists, browse music and interact with the library on the website before letting the app sync everything to your phone. Unless you're really into creating you're own playlists, however, we see little need for the website. And if you find yourself traveling or on-the-go often, MOG mobile seems like a great way to constantly have access to new music. As for the bugs and glitches, we hope to see them fixed up along the way, but for now they don't get in the way too much.

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Karen and Jeff started the fund in a Chicago FEMA room when it became clear that many musicians and others wouldn't be able to return to New Orleans for weeks if not months. Jeff, who grew up playing in the Ninth Ward and was a member of the 80s pop band the dBs, as well as playing with roots and jazz outfits, turned to the Internet. He and Karen put together a Website with an online donation function.

Podcasts were a powerful way to reach out to both a distributed public and a fractured musical scene, as was the blog they started. They used social media and more old school Web tools to beat the bushes and pass the hat. Straight out donations, walkathons, downloads and t-shirt sales. Money came in to help get people home, to help them repair storm damage and to pay rent and, above all, to give them back their means of making a living: get them back their bones. In addition to money, people donated trumpets and trombones, traps and guitars and even pianos.

Joannie Hughes, a New Orleans native who became a volunteer with NOMRF, said after Katrina, the most disconcerting thing was the absence of music.

“The one thing that struck me in my heart and soul when I returned was the silence. Having lived here all of my life and grown up in a music household I just was not prepared for the lack of live music that usually poured into the streets. The entire city owes (Jeff and Karen) a great deal of gratitude for bringing back our cherished music.”

There's a feeling that once a certain amount of time passes after a disaster, people should have the decency to be OK. Unfortunately, given the sheer bulk of the mess, both physically and politically, that's just not been the case with New Orleans, as co-founder Jeff Beninato reminds us.

“If you think this tragedy is over think again. There are still families out there in corners of this country trying to figure out what they are going to do to get their lives back to some normalcy. There are so many musicians who were well known in New Orleans that are totally unknown where they are now. Imagine building your fanbase or your work base in your workplace and suddenly it all disappears.”

And now what promises to become the single largest ecological catastrophe in the nation's history, the Gulf oil spill, is bearing down on the city. The travelers and the money they bring are starting to dry up again. The resource economy, fishing, shrimping and crabbing, that all funnels into the city, is faltering. The need to plug in to this newest of technologies – the Web – to save the oldest – music – is pressing, again. There is some truth to the notion that this technology we cover levels and democratizes. NOMRF is using it to make the process of helping the men and women who provide the soundtrack to your hopes and dreams more egalitarian and more direct.

Think trading tracks and files is “peer-to-peer”? Pass the hat at the Green Dragon and buy a guy a trumpet so he can gig and get his kids new shoes. That's peer-to-peer, brothers and sisters. Can I get an amen?

I said…

Can I get an amen?

Alright, then.

Rdio — pronounced r-dee-o — has some spelling problems. But it is a very ambitious startup that hopes to liberate consumers from some annoying restrictions when listening to online music.

The San Francisco company, brought to you by the creators of the Kazaa music service and Skype internet voice calls, is creating a new social music service that stores the music you listen to in the cloud and feeds it to your devices as you want. The company, which was partially outed in December, is formally coming out of hiding today.

The benefit of the cloud service is that you can play your music on any device you want; by contrast, with Apple’s iTunes music, you are permitted to play music that you have purchased only on a limited number of devices. The music can be accessed via a web browser. That’s a pretty good benefit, and one that is worthy of the company’s founders and their pedigree.

Kazaa, as well as Napster, helped bring down the traditional industry of music CDs. I suppose it’s only fair that the folks behind Rdio – Janus Friis and Niklas Zennstrom — are creating this online music startup to try to rebuild the music business. (Atomico is also helping to fund the company). The company is worth watching, because when Friis and Zennstrom (pictured) do something, they usually shake up the world.

Rdio has another twist on the usual 99-cent-per-song business model. It will offer subscriptions of $4.99 a month for an unlimited number of songs from a collection of 5 million songs from the major music labels (that’s roughly half the number of songs available on Apple’s iTunes). It also offers a $9.99 a month subscription if you want to listen to your music on mobile phones. Besides iPhones, you will be able to listen to the music on BlackBerry phones via an Rdio app. An Android version is coming soon.

The social side of the service is another differentiator, said Drew Larner, chief executive of Rdio and a Skype veteran. You can listen to your own purchased music as well as the music purchased by your friends. Rdio encourages sharing and so it helps with the discovery of new music, alleviating some of the burden on musicians to market their own work.

Rdio has launched a small beta testing program and is expanding by letting users invite their friends. So for now, it is available as an invitation-only paid preview program.

“Many digital music services have tried to address specific challenges, but no one has managed to elegantly integrate discovery and a high-quality music streaming experience under one roof,” said Friis. “We think people are ready for the next evolution in music. Rdio gives you unlimited access to all the music, anytime, for the equivalent price of one album download per month.”

One of the things that Rdio has gotten right is taking the manual effort out of discovering new music and building a digital collection. Within seconds, you can “import” your iTunes songs. But that doesn’t literally happen. Rather, Rdio compares your iTunes collection to what it has in its own cloud-based music collection and then gives you access to those songs. You can use Rdio to see what your friends are listening to and sync music to your phone to enjoy when you are offline. You can share music via email, Facebook or Twitter. The company hopes to appeal to people who like to be pacemakers when it comes to keeping up with the latest cool music.

Rdio has deals with music companies EMI Music, Sony Music Entertainment, Universal Music Group and Warner Music Group, as well as many indie aggregators of digital music. It seems those companies aren’t holding a grudge against the founders of Kazaa, which you could argue wrecked the Music 1.0 business.

“The music industry’s transition to online distribution has been dominated by à la carte sales,” said Mike McGuire, analyst at Gartner’s Media Industry Advisory Services. “But, there’s a big opportunity for companies to create paid music services that are based in the cloud – especially as more and more consumers own smartphones allowing them to access their entire online music library via phone.”

Besides Larner, Rdio’s management team includes chief operating officer Carter Adamson. Malthe Sigurdsson is responsible for Rdio’s user experience and design, and Todd Berman leads engineering. The company, founded in early 2009, has 23 people and has not disclosed its funding, beyond noting that investors are Zennstrom, Friis and Atomico.

Rivals include Pandora, Spotify, Rhapsody, Microsoft’s Zune and a number of other online music services, not to mention Apple’s iTunes. Apple is expected to move into the cloud music service business as well since it bought Lala (and then shut it down). We’ve written about realted startups such as Immitter, Imeem, Grooveshark, MOG, and HypeMachine.

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Morocco

A group of Moroccan and Algerian citizens have launched an online campaign for the reopening of the borders and rapprochement between their neighboring countries. Relations between Algeria and Morocco have been strained by their contention over Western Sahara and their borders have been closed since 1994.

•
Hisham

Today in the poetry section; two new poems by Timothy Donnelly.

His Future as Attila the Hun

But when I try to envision what it might be like to live
          detached from the circuitry that suffers me to crave

what I know I’ll never need, or what I need but have
          in abundance already, I feel the cloud of food-court

breakfast loosen its embrace, I feel the shopping center
          drop as its escalator tenders me up to the story

intended for conference space. I feel my doubt diminish, my debt
          diminish; I feel a snow that falls on public statuary

doesn’t do so sadly because it does so without profit.
          I feel less toxic. I feel the thought my only prospect

lies under a train for the coverage stop. Don’t think I never
          thought that way because I have and do, all through

blank October a dollar in my pocket back and forth
          to university. Let the record not not show. I have

deserted me for what I lack and am not worth. All of this
          unfolds through episodes that pale as fast as others

gain from my inertia: I have watched, I’ll keep watching
          out from under blankets as the days trip over the

days before out cold on the gold linoleum behind them
           where we make the others rich with sick persistence.

But when I try to envision what it might be like to change,
          I see three doors in front of me, and by implication

opportunity, rooms full of it as the mind itself is full
          thinking of a time before time was, or of the infinite

couch from which none part, and while the first two doors
          have their appeal, it’s the third I like best, the one

behind which opens a meadow, vast, and in it, grazing
          on buttercups, an errant heifer with a wounded foot,

its bloody hoofprints followed by a curious shepherd back
          to something sharp in the grass, the point of a long

sword which, unearthed, the shepherd now polishes with
          his rodent-skin tunic, letting the Eurasian sun play

upon it for effect, a gift for me, a task, an instrument to lay
          waste to the empire now placed before me at my feet.

Antepenultimate Conflict with Self

1
The times the thought of being pulled apart from
you comes as a relief have come now to outnumber
those it startles me like light from a hurricane
lamp left burning unattended dangerously near
the curtains of the theater we both attend and are.

The fire of it spasms up the tall glass chimney
like little air pockets we’ve watched trudge down
loops in hospital tubing—disarmed, but quietly.
When I have made in our manhood some large noise
to spook off harm, harm has only found us faster.

Saying one should distract it as the other escapes
to an agreed-on spot where we can reconnoiter
after, like under the alder where the jackdaw builds
its nest of surplus playbills. They shred them up
like that as a matter of procedure. They intend no

particular disrespect to you or your production.
None taken. Glad to hear it. Because I thought I saw
a darkness drift across your face that I associate
with umbrage. Not even close. If I were you I wouldn’t
flatter myself. And yet, turning things around, this

darkness you speak of, it must have drifted across
your own face at least as much as mine. Admittedly, yes.
So why not leave me out of it? I’ve been trying to do
just that. Looks to me like you haven’t been going
about it right. That makes two of us, then. Not quite.

Leaving the burning theater behind one begins to
ease into a new perspective. The stairway leads to
a doorway, the doorway to an alleyway, the alleyway
to another door, more stairs, another amber room
where one can forget again, its window overlooking

a car lot emptied of its cars. The stark lines recall
what was and will be there, but isn’t now or anymore.
The scent of juniper or cat piss. A knock at the door.
A look around the room before opening to confirm this
isn’t the one we’ve been, only half in fear, dreaming.

2
After calculation, I’ve let you in. Seated at the table
in cold beneath the window, we try to remember each
example of the condition we’re after, namely that of
a multitude at work in unison. You say alder branches
blown in the wind. I say the warp and weft of waves

on an open bay. You say activity near beehives. I say
heavy snowfall. You say a flock of birds tilting mid-flight
and I say some performances we turn to long enough
to forget what we can never have, not without shedding
either or both of us. As if one had to clear out room

for a discovery that doesn’t come so much as splinter
into the shag. We are down on our hands and knees
trawling gold acrylic pile. We are old here already.
To have rehearsed this almost infinitely hasn’t helped
move things along. On the contrary. The whole idea

of perfection, evidently our aim, seems to have done
less to guide us away from missteps than to make them
even sharper, more palpable, and in several respects
downright impossible to avoid. (All the pressing in of
what we’ll never have reminds us of how thoroughly

bereft we are, even of a hope of one day not wanting.)
You ought to put an end to this. (What pierces my hand
pierces yours, stops us into focus strong enough only
to drive off gauzy voices urging more harm for the quiet
that comes after.) You ought to have put an end to it

first. Shown a little courtesy. (Light dim as light can be
and still be thought light flosses the cleft between poorly
drawn curtains.) You shouldn’t have followed me here.
You made it impossible not to. Took you long enough
to say it though. Some things go without. Without? Without

saying altogether. They sit unsaid in a lost auditorium,
muttering into night. I think they should be heard. I think
I can hear them now. As from behind a wall, or within it.
We have that gift. Yes, and each other. Also sticktoitiveness.
But it’s gifts like these that always get one into trouble.

Timothy Donnelly’s first book of poems, Twenty-seven Props for a Production of Eine Lebensziet, was published by Grove Press in 2003, and his second, The Cloud Corporation, will be published by Wave Books this fall. Recent poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Denver Quarterly, Fence, Gulf Coast, Harper’s, The Iowa Review, jubilat, The Nation, The New Republic, The Paris Review, and elsewhere. He is a poetry editor for Boston Review and teaches in the Writing Program of Columbia University’s School of the Arts.

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Lindsay Banned From Borrowing Clothes; Marc's Ex Writing Tell-All

• Lindsay Lohan is apparently no longer welcome publicity for designers. The ankle-braceleted starlet has been — horrors! — banned from borrowing clothing by most fashion houses, according to one tipster. Lohan has been clothing herself by buying things.

• Cathy Horyn on Lady Gaga: “I like that she not only appreciates hats but understands the boundaries a hat and veil impose on other people.” [On The Runway]
• New Aquascutum designer Joanna Sykes: “So far it's going well. Obviously I've worked at huge design houses before.” Obviously. [Vogue UK]
• “Womenomics” is apparently the latest term for selling women on consumerism packaged as empowerment. “We are now in a female century. This is the century in which women come to the fore, in which the balance of power changes. By 2020, it is reckoned globally there will be more female millions than male,” says Chris Sanderson, “strategy and insight director of The Future Laboratory,” whatever that is. “At some point last year unofficially the Web turned female because there are now globally more female users than male.” Something Joan Didion once wrote about think tanks, forecasting, and walking on hot air comes to mind.
• The six pairs of sunglasses that Madonna “designed” for Dolce & Gabbana are now on sale at Saks Fifth Avenue.
• Celine Dion has eyewear line, too! And she wears hers in the product shots.
• “Mary J. Blige is set to turn the traditional fragrance distribution model on its ear this summer with her first fragrance, My Life,” writes Women's Wear Daily. How different, exactly? Is it a perfume? Yes. That you wear to smell a certain way? Yes. A perfume that leverages a celebrity's image to generate sales regardless of quality? Yes. Will Blige make money off of it? Yes. Er, not actually so “different” then.
• Model Kate Dillon is expecting her first child in December.
• Russian model Irina Shayk, who dates Cristiano Ronaldo, scored a contract with Armani Exchange.
• 29-year-old former model Olivia Inge is writing a guidebook to the industry for young models. “When I started, I had nothing in the way of advice,” she says.
• Matthew Williamson went to Oxford to speak to undergraduates with his C.E.O., Joseph Velosa. (Velosa is a Cambridge philosophy graduate.) The designer told them about how he painted the walls of his recently opened boutique himself. [Vogue UK]
• Retail sales fell unexpectedly in the month of May. The drop was 1.2%, which is the biggest decline since September, 2009, when sales went down by 2.2%. Analysts had been expecting a modest 0.2% increase.
• Rory and Elie Tahari have legally separated. They were married 11 years, and have two children.
• Cynthia Rowley is showing her resort collection from the back of a van in Midtown. No, seriously — she pulls up outside a skyscraper, models pile out, “refreshments” are served, then she drives on to the next media company. Rowley is hitting up Condé Nast first, today at 1 p.m. — burn, Hearst: you wait till 3.
• Alexander Wang bought Holly Brubach's old one-bedroom TriBeCa apartment for $2 million.
• Marc Jacobs' ex Jason Preston is rumored to be writing a tell-all about his time with the designer and his fair-weather celebrity friends, like Naomi Campbell, Lindsay Lohan, and Kate Moss. [Fashion Indie]
• Art model (and occasional ringer for Marc Jacobs) Coco Young seems like a nice girl who'd be good company at a movie. [The Cut]
• Georgia May Jagger, 18, is rumored to be dating a 25-year-old musician named Luke Pritchard.
• Miley Cyrus modeled some of the pieces from her second collection with Max Azria for Wal-Mart.
• There will be no Women's Wearhouse, folks.
• “Kim Hastreiter came off as caustic, her remarks indicating admiration for lots of designers, just not most of those assembled in the room who'd voted to honor her. But everyone else held back the nasties.” Bridget Foley didn't take too kindly to Kim Hastreiter pointing out the obvious at the CFDAs, apparently.
• The U.S. Army licensed its name to a footwear company called PSFG, which also owns Christian Audigier shoes and Ed Hardy shoes. The results are…strange and troubling.
• Turns out newspapers aren't doing so hot in France, either. Pierre Bergé might buy Le Monde.
• Way to cash in on the soccer world cup craze and the legacy of Alexander McQueen, Bebe.
• Alexander McQueen is threatening legal action over a new Cadbury advertisement that it says closely mirrors its famous holographic film of Kate Moss. A vision of Moss floating in a grey dress materialized over McQueen's Fall/Winter 2006 catwalk. Now, the filmmaker Baillie Walsh, who collaborated with the late McQueen on the hologram, made a similar film of a woman floating in a yellow dress for Cadbury.
• Nine World Cup teams are wearing uniforms made of recycled plastic. Clearly the environment is safe in the hands of Nike.
• Diana Vreeland used to send her staff memos about whatever was on her mind. Her customary location for dictations? The bathroom. “I think this note from Mrs. Simpson is delightful:” reads one such memorandum. A young Grace Mirabella was among the recipients of this wisdom. “'I saw a girl on 5th Avenue wearing blue jeans and a brilliant pink cotton pullover; on her hips was a white flowered Spanish Shawl folded lengthwise and looped over very tight in the front with fringe reaching almost to her ankles — It looked marvelous.'” How much you want to bet ten people will be on street style blogs with versions of this outfit within the week?
• Garance Doré just put up a video she made of the Chanel resort presentation in St. Tropez a few weeks ago. It's full of disgustingly pretty and well-dressed people playing bocce ball and shopping, and Olivier Zahm. [Garance Doré]
• Mickey Drexler has not bought so much as a stitch at the Gap since he was fired as its C.E.O. in 2002. “I still feel angry every time I pass a store,” he says.
• New York just cannot decide how it feels about American Apparel. It is probably either, “American Apparel is a skeevy, lying company that discriminates against people,” or, “Buy this floral-appliqué blouse, because we detect a hint of Chanel in its ivory rosettes!” [The Cut screengrab]
• Not content with offering a signature cell phone, Dolce & Gabbana now has a signature cocktail.

Send an email to the author of this post at jenna@jezebel.com.

The Guardian:

It is hard to get some children inside a library — but a high-street shop selling pirate eye patches or superhero equipment is much more of a draw.

This is the simple principle behind a literacy movement that has taken hold in America, and is coming to Britain.

Read the whole story: The Guardian

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At a panel at the Los Angeles Times Festival of Books this year, I sat on while three distinguished authors discussed their work. After about 45 minutes of talk of craft and inspiration, the panel was opened up to questions from the audience. One by one the readers and writers (you are either or both if you hold a ticket to this panel) stood up from creaking UCLA lecture hall seats to inquire about character development or how to query an agent.

Toward the end, a twenty-something man popped up from his seat and, in a tone of pure desperation, asked the three fiction writers where they did their writing. He asked as if these published authors would reveal an enchanted garden or some other sacred location, the knowledge of which would change the course of his writing career from then. If only he could know where they write, he could go there as well and produce his magnum opus at last. At that moment, I sat at the edge of my seat as well, pen and Moleskine ready to capture the secret. And then Elizabeth Crane, author of the story collection, You Must Be This Happy to Enter, said that she writes at home, often on the couch with the T.V. on. “It's not very exciting to the onlooker,” she said. She went on, however, to explain that it is exciting to her because she is creating her stories in these places. Crane's refreshing answer was at once slightly disappointing (what, no cabin in the woods?) and utterly encouraging because it taught this young writer a lesson in comparing my experience to others'. I can only write what I write from where I write it.

However, inquiring minds such as mine want to know more, so I have asked a few writers whom I admire to talk about where they write. Here are their responses.

Emily St. John Mandel, author of Last Night in Montreal (Unbridled Books, 2009) and The Singer's Gun (Unbridled, May 2010):

“I do most of my writing in my home office, at my unbelievably messy desk. It's by far my favorite place to write–my cats and my music are there, and it's a very peaceful room. I live in Brooklyn and work at a university in Manhattan, and I get off work in the mid-afternoon. Often if I have theatre tickets or some other plans that require me to be in Manhattan that evening, I'll linger at work for a few hours. When that happens, I go to the library at the university where I work and write there for a while. Often, very often, I'll find myself writing in the subway. I spend two hours a day on the F train, five days a week, and I always carry a notebook with me.” (photo: Kevin Mandel)

Alexander Chee, author of Edinburgh (Picador, 2002) and the forthcoming The Queen of the Night:

“Usually it's trains where I get the most writing done–I wish I could get a residency from Amtrak on a sleeper car, or an office booth in a cafe car. I recently had a residency at a colony in Florida, where I had two days of writing 17 pages a day, and it would have continued if I hadn't had to leave. I think anonymity and displacement help me no matter where I am–I need to feel like I've vanished and no one can find me.”

Nova Ren Suma, author of Dani Noir (Aladdin/Simon & Schuster, 2009) and Imaginary Girls (Dutton, summer 2011):

“I live in a tiny apartment in New York and can sometimes be found writing first thing in the mornings at a cafe, if I can find a good table, but I don't stay there for long. There are the crowds. The noise. I can't control the music on the stereo. The real place where I get most of my writing done is called the Writers Room. Billed as an urban writers' colony in New York City, it's a place for writers of all genres to go for space, quiet, and uninterrupted time to work. At various desks in the giant loft space of the Writers Room, I've written, no exaggeration, thousands of pages. When you pay for an 'office space' like this and have a dedicated place to go, one filled with other working writers typing up their own pages, it makes you all the more motivated to do your own work.” (photo: Erik Ryerson)

No, I am not talking about the James Frey who wrote A Million Little Pieces, the controversial piece of creative “nonfiction” that initially made a splash with Oprah but then fell into ignominy. The man I want to praise today is James N. Frey, probably the best writing teacher on the face of the earth.

As far as I know, Jim is still leading writing workshops all over the place, giving of himself, helping others improve their craft. According to his website, “Many participants of his workshops have gone on to publish with major New York houses and receive solid advances (as high as $2 million) and much critical acclaim.” I don't for even a second doubt the veracity of that assertion.

I first met Jim in the spring of 1984, the year he published his first thriller, The Last Patriot. I had seen an ad in a Berkeley, California, newspaper for something called “The Story Laboratory,” a writers' workshop that met every Monday evening in the basement of the Finnish Brotherhood Hall near the corner of University Avenue and Chestnut Street in what we called the flats. We working stiffs lived there, not with the rich and famous up in the Berkeley hills. It didn't take me more than five seconds to decide to check out the Story Lab because I lived just a half block away on Berkeley Way. Somebody was trying to tell me something. I seemed destined to become a member of this little group of struggling scribblers.

When I walked into that basement, Jim was sitting at one of those long, institutional folding tables that reminded me of the ones at the Berkeley Chess Club, where I had spent a humiliating few weeks the year before. Jim was about forty, and my first impression was that he was a red-nosed Irishman who liked his whiskey just a wee bit too much. But that perception evaporated as soon as the rest of the crew showed up and he began to talk shop. Jim spoke more lucidly than any college professor about language, plot, characterization, setting, and something else of vital importance that I will get to in due time.

The way the Story Lab worked was that someone would read a short story or a chapter of a novel, and then the rest — especially Jim — would most likely tear it to shreds with scathing comments. Jim would invariably start out with, “The problem with this story is … ” And he'd always be right. The first work of fiction that I read at the workshop was of the type known derogatorily as a “slice of life” piece. Its title was “The Loft,” and it was about my experiences with a punk rock band in New York City during the late 1970s. It was full to bursting with funky description and quirky characters. I thought it was just great, of course, but no one else around the table in that cellar seemed to agree. They all had something a bit nasty to say, but only Jim was able to articulate what the problem really was.

“This bit of writing could get you into the Creative Writing Masters program at San Francisco State,” Jim told me, “but it isn't any good.”

The first part of that seemed rather encouraging, I thought, but the rest sounded crazy to me, as it appeared to contradict what came before. Jim went on to explain, “You use words very well, and the images are fine, but the story lacks conflict.”

I was flabbergasted. He was right! Why hadn't I seen that myself? I felt like a fool, and I told him so. Jim responded, “Don't feel bad. Everybody starts out as you did. But writing is like everything else. Somebody has to show you how to do it.” After that, I must have heard him say at least a hundred times to other writers around that table, “Your story needs three things: conflict, conflict, and conflict.” He liked to illustrate this point by showing how Charles Dickens had used conflict to the utmost effect in A Christmas Carol. Jim made that story come alive in so many ways that I realized I had taken Scrooge for granted all my life.

That was just the first of many invaluable lessons from the master, and it led to the writing of one of my best short stories, “Decibels.” Thanks, Jim, for helping with the manuscript.

I'll never forget the time I read another short story, “The Little Room.” Right after I finished the last sentence, Jim called for a break and took me by the arm and said, “Let's go over to Taco Bell and get a cup of coffee.” The fast-food restaurant was just across the street.

I thought for sure that I was walking my last mile as a writer, that Jim was going to tell me something like, “I didn't want to say this in front of everyone else, but I was wrong about you, kid. Give it up. You've got no talent.” But no. He said that my story was terrific and that I had found my voice as a writer. Actually, that's what I think he said. I was so blown away by his praise that I really don't remember his exact words, but he thought the story was good, and that's all that mattered. I think I was actually in shock as we walked back to the Story Lab.

When we sat back down inside the Finnish Hall, other members of our group had some comments critical of “The Little Room,” but Jim wouldn't let any of them stand. He said the story was a piece of literary fiction of the highest quality. Perhaps it really is as good as Jim thought it was, but perhaps it isn't. The point is that I wouldn't have been able to write it at all had it not been for Jim's tireless encouragement and excellent advice.

Sadly, I haven't spoken with him in years. I know I disappointed him by not living up to the potential he saw in me. After all, I don't have even a single novel under my belt, just a modest collection of self-published short fiction. But whatever writing skill I do have I owe to Jim. I hope he is doing well.

Jim has written nine novels, among them The Long Way to Die, an Edgar Award Nominee, and Winter of the Wolves, a Literary Guild Selection. Yes, I've read them all, and I've enjoyed every one. Jim is also the author of the How to Write a Damn Good Novel series of instructional books for fledgling writers.

Slightly too long, slightly too old, but maybe this? Peire Vidal by W. S. MerwinI saw the wolf in winter watching on the raw hill
I stood all night on top of the black tower and sang
I saw my mouth in spring float away on the river
I was a child in rooms where the furs were climbing
and each was alone and they had no eyes no faces
nothing inside them moved but the stories
they never breathed as they waved in their dreams of grass
and I sang the best songs that were sung in the world
as long as a song lasts they came by themselves to me
and I loved blades and boasting and shouting as I rode
as though I was the bright light flashing from everything
I loved being with women and their breath and their skin
and the thought of them that carried me like a wind
I uttered terrible things about other men
in a time when tongues were cut out to pay for kissing
but I set my sails for the island of Venus
and a niece of the Emperor in Constantinople
and I could have become the Emperor myself
I won and I won and all the women in the world
were in love with me and they wanted what I wanted
so I thought and every one of them deceived me
I was the greatest fool in the world I was the world's fool
I have been forgiven and I've come home as I dreamed
and seen them all dancing and singing as the ship came in
and I have watched friends die and have worn black and cut off
the tails and ears of all my horses in mourning
and have shaven my head and the heads of my followers
I have been a poor man living in a rich man's house
and I have gone to the mountains and for one woman
I have worn the fur of a wolf and the shepherds'
dogs have run me to earth and I have been left for dead
and have come back hearing them laughing and the furs
were hanging in the same places and I have seen
what is not there I have sung its song I have breathed
its day and it was nothing to you where you were you

posted by artlung at 1:02 PM on June 8 Please help me find a literary and beautiful memorial service poem or passage for an actor, raconteur, well-read Renaissance man. A small group of friends is gathering to remember our actor friend. He was the perfect Falstaff and Dr. Faustus, but the poem/passage does not have to come from those works. It could be about acting, leaving the stage, turning off the lights, etc. but not clichéd or maudlin. Thank you.

posted by Elsie to writing & language (6 comments total)

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