My Atomic Angst

Nonfiction Thursday at AWP

2011-01-31T07:51:00.000-08:00

This Thursday, Feb. 3 is shaping up to be Nonfiction Thursday at AWP. There's a veritable smorgasbord of nonfiction panels scheduled for that day. Check them out below:

Tearing Your Heart Off Your Sleeve: The Problem of Pathos in Creative Nonfiction
Thursday, February 3, 9:00 - 10:15 a.m.
Virginia C Room, Marriott Wardman Park, Lobby Level

The Essayist in the 21st Century
Thursday, February 3, 9:00 - 10:15 a.m.
Hampton Ballroom, Omni Shoreham Hotel, East Lobby

A Sense of Where We Were: Nonfiction Writers on Setting
Thursday, Febuary 3, 10:30 - 11:45 a.m.
Hampton Ballroom, Omni Shoreham Hotel, East Lobby
(I'll be paneling for this one.)

Imagining Ourselves: The Narrative Stance in Memoir
Thursday, February 3, Noon - 1:15 p.m.
Virginia B Room, Marriott Wardman Park, Lobby Level

What's Normal in Nonfiction?
Thursday, February 3, 3:00 - 4:15 p.m.
Maryland Suite Room, Marriott Wardman Park, Lobby Level
(I'll be moderating this one.)

Status Update: The Personal Essay in the Age of Facebook
Thursday, February 3, 4:30 - 5:45 p.m.
Thurgood Marshall East Room, Marriott Wardman Park, Mezzanine Level

See all you nonfictionistaz there! - SC

NewPages on Sonora Review and "Confessions of a Parasite"

2010-10-28T09:51:00.000-07:00

This is a little old, but it's a nice mini-review of my essay, "Confessions of a Parasite" from Sonora Review #57.

Thanks to the good folks at Sonora for the pub!

-- SC

ATOMIC LOVE

2010-08-16T17:58:00.000-07:00

OK, so here's the truth. I know Brent McKnight. He's easily one of the coolest people I've met in years and I would probably pay money to hang out with him and talk about Red Dawn and Zombies. Not only that, but he GETS me (or at least my book). You know? I mean, I'm not so old that I can't appreciate that. Read his review if not the book itself. And next time you see him, give him a big ol' greasy man-hug from me. This is probably my favorite thing that anyone has said about my book.

peas. -- SC

On Craft and Form in TDATDA: Newport Review

2010-07-18T10:43:00.000-07:00

Friends,

Click on the "Nonfiction" link on their Home Page to read an excerpt from TDATDA and an interview where I talk about the use of fiction in my memoir, our collective understanding of apocalypse, and other stuff in the latest issue of the Newport Review, edited by the super-cool, Kathryn Kulpa.

Oh, and don't miss the art! I LOVE this image from the nonfiction page.

-- SC

Grassroots Reader Recruitment

2010-07-06T17:46:00.000-07:00

My Fellow Mutants,

I've recently been forced to face some new realities about the publishing world. And inspired in large part by the work of my friend, Dave Griffith, I figured what better way to explore/essay into this new landscape than by "publishing" an essay of mine, "I'm Just Getting to the Disturbing Part" that appeared originally in what may be my all-time favorite magazine for nonfiction, Fourth Genre, and was nominated by them for a Pushcart Prize and included as a Notable Essay in the 2008 Best American Essay. It's also included in the textbook, Fourth Genre: Contemporary Writers of/on Creative Nonfiction alongside many of my writing heroes. The essay is now part of a larger manuscript (very tentatively) titled Bright Orange Fear: Adventures in Adulthood, a manuscript. I'm proud of this piece and I hope you'll read it and pass it on to others.

Thanks for reading!

BIG LOVE. -- SC

On Extra Lives and Novels (sort of)

2010-06-28T05:45:00.000-07:00

Hey Gang, So I've got a review-thing up at the Brevity blog, where I talk about Tom Bissell's new book, Extra Lives, manage to work in a couple of digs at novels, and refer to myself as Mr. Essay Pants. Read it here, and then go buy Tom's book. Trust me.

SC

Announcement of My Retirement

2010-06-11T10:40:00.000-07:00

Dear Friends,

I have just inherited $6.5 million dollars from a woman who is dying from Cancer of the Lever, and Stroke. I am hereby announcing my retirement. I will be purchasing a small island, hiring a team of ninja assassins to guard it, and communicating only through carrier pigeon. I may purchase some monkeys. Perhaps a tiger with a saddle.

Here's the email I received confirming my new found riches:

___________________

Dearest one,

With Due Respect And Humanity, I was compelled to write to you under a humanitarian ground.

My name is Mrs Rachelle Bery. I was born in Baltimore, Maryland , I am married to Mr.James Bery director J.C Industries Cote d'Ivoire.We were married for 36 years without a child. He died after a Cadiac Arteries Operation.
And Recently, My Doctor told me that I would not last for the next six months due to my cancer problem (cancer of the lever and stroke).

Before my husband died last year there is this sum $6.5 Million Dollars that he deposited with a Private Finance Company here In Ivory Coast . Presently this money is still in the Vault of the Company.

Having known my condition I decided to donate this fund to any good God fearing brother or sister that will utilize this fund the way I am going to instruct herein.

I want somebody that will use this fund according to the desire of my late.husband to help Lessprivilaged people, orphanages,widows and propagating the word of God.

I took this decision because I dont have any child that will inherit this fund, And I dont want in away where this money will be used in an un Godly way. This is why I am taking this decision to hand you over this Fund.

I am not afraid of death hence I know where I am going.I want you to always remember me in your daily prayers because of my up coming Cancer Surgery.

Write back as soon as possible any delay in your reply will give me room in sourcing another person for this same purpose, Hoping to read from you asap.

God bless you as you listing to the voice of reasoning,
Mrs Rachelle Bery

_________________

Thanks! It was great knowing all of you!

SC

A Little Love for TDATDA from the Todfather

2010-06-10T11:09:00.000-07:00

My fellow mutants,

Tod Goldberg is one of the funniest human beings on the planet. This has been verified by several independent sources. He also happens to be one hell of a writer who works harder at his craft than just about anyone else I've ever met. He also runs the Low-Res MFA Program at UC Riverside-Palm Desert . . Oh yeah, AND he writes book reviews! I'm happy Tod found some things to like in The Day After The Day After. Here's an excerpt and a link to the rest of the review at the Las Vegas City Life site. Thanks, Tod!

____

The fallout

Steven Church grapples with movie-inspired Cold War fever in his poignant memoir
by TOD GOLDBERG : AE@LVCITYLIFE.COM

"Like most children growing up in '70s and '80s America," Steven Church writes toward the beginning of his sad, funny and refreshingly memorable memoir The Day After The Day After: My Atomic Angst, "I imagined we'd all be dead in 10 years."

It's a statement that will resonate with nearly everyone who came of age during the Cold War, but particularly the bitter end of the era, when nuclear annihilation became not just an existential fear, but also the grist of entertainment; the sort of plot point that would eventually give memorable roles to the great actors of our time -- the Steve Guttenbergs, the Patrick Swayzes, the C. Thomas Howells -- and might have even helped turn Ronald Reagan from a hawk into more of a dove. Or at least a hawk who didn't want mutual assured destruction.

READ the rest of it here . . .

SC

Signs of the Apocalypse: 13. Willie Nelson's Hair

2010-05-27T11:54:00.000-07:00

Say it isn't so, Willie. The iconic braids are gone. Willie Nelson has cut his hair. And his braids have been replaced by some kind of heinous "bob" cut. What's next? The apocalypse, clearly.

This Writer's Voice: My Interview with Francesca Rheannon

2010-05-26T12:31:00.001-07:00

Howdy Mutants and Normals,

Check out my interview with Francesca Rheannon at The Writer's Voice. I show up at around 37.27 and try to sound smart for about 20 minutes. So grab some tea. Maybe a pillow. Put your feet up and have a listen.

Peas.

SC

My Encounters with Steve Almond's Meat

2010-05-07T05:52:00.000-07:00

My Fellow Mutants,

So, I don't write a lot of book reviews, but every now and then I get inspired to say some stuff. In this case, it's a little something on the Brevity blog about Steve Almond's new book-length essay on being a "drooling fanatic" music fan, Rock and Roll will Save Your Life, and the male-bonding virtues of meat cookery.

Oh, and after reading the book be prepared to spends large sums of money on music by Ike Reilly and Boris McCutcheon.

Enjoy.

SC

A Little Moore Love in West Branch for TDATDA

2010-05-04T21:48:00.000-07:00

Hello my fellow mutants,

Dinty W. Moore has a review of TDATDA in the current issue of West Branch, a wonderful literary magazine out of Bucknell. Check them out. Subscribe.

The Day After “The Day After”: My Atomic Angst, by Steven Church. Soft Skull Press, 224 pp., $14.95

Steven Church’s brisk and quirky hybrid memoir is partly the chronicle of a childhood spent in Lawrence, Kansas, chosen as the central locale for the iconic 1980s apocalyptic TV movie, “The Day After,” and part Cold War cultural history. Church’s early view of the world was forever shaped by seeing his hometown littered with artificial Hollywood smoke and rubble, approximating a post-nuclear day of reckoning. Earlier events figure in as well: the 1970 bombing of the University of Kansas student union during the Days of Rage, a pipe bomb heaved through the window of his father’s real estate office (though luckily, Church senior had already gone home for the day), and even Quantrill’s brutal raid of Lawrence during the Bloody Kansas stage of the Civil War.

“It’s possible,” Church writes, “that the apocalypse has always lurked in my blood, that I was born into it and destined to always live in a world teetering on the edge of collapse—or at least one that felt that way.”

It’s possible as well that Church has packed more into this small book than any memoirist before him, including not just family stories but historic re-imaginings, lyric meditations, film criticism, pop culture exegesis, and invented conversations with Danny Dahlberg, the flash-blinded farm boy from the 1983 movie. The book works because Church never takes himself or his morbid ruminations too seriously and because he has a wonderful eye and ear for the odd, distressing detail. Paranoia and anxiety have seldom been this much fun.

-- Dinty W. Moore

Thanks for reading!

SC

New Essay, "Lag Time" in Brevity #33

2010-05-02T20:10:00.000-07:00

Check out my ruminations on thunderstorm time, memory, and loss in the new issue of Brevity. Here's a quote:

"If there is an objective measure of a “split second” it would have to be close to the time between the flash of intimate lightning and the sound of its ear-stunning crack, a noise that tingles up from your toes, and ripples through your belly—a sound the body hears before the ears."

I'm just ridiculously happy to be sharing space with many writers I know and respect, as well as with my dear friend, teacher, and mentor, John Calderazzo.

SC

Signs of the Apocalypse: 1. Arizona SB1070

2010-04-23T11:44:00.000-07:00

This endangers all of us. Stop SB1070 now!

My Own Reality Hunger was Born in the 70's and 80's

2010-04-19T15:43:00.000-07:00

Like a lot of nonfiction geeks (and everyone else, it seems, even Steven Colbert), I've been reading, thinking about, talking about, arguing about, and pondering passages from David Shields's book, Reality Hunger. Today I was reading Section 251, where we learn that the Defense Department hired the director of Die Hard 2 as a consultant to "game-plan potential doomsday scenarios; in other words, fiction got called to the official aid, reinforcement, and rescue of real life," and I was reminded again why this book is so exhilirating, maddening, strange and satisfying, why it seems to be speaking (at times) to things I've thought for a long time but had trouble saying. In a rush, I opened my own book, TDATDA and flipped to a passage where I talk about this very thing with the movie, The China Syndrome and the 3-Mile Island :

The blockbuster 1979 movie, The China Syndrome, starring Jane Fonda, Jack Lemmon, and a young, bearded Michael Douglas tells the dramatic story of a near meltdown at a nuclear power plant and a subsequent conspiracy to cover-up the accident.
It was released 12 days before and still running in theatres nationwide on March 28, when the 3-Mile Island Nuclear facility in Dauphin County, Pennsylvania experienced a partial core meltdown of a pressurized water reactor, releasing into the atmosphere, among other things, 13 million curies of what are called radioactive “noble gasses” . . . This synchronicity between movie reality and reality-reality was more than artistic coincidence. This was the sort of boundary-blurring experience that defined my childhood. The film even contained an eerie reference to destruction of an area “the size of Pennsylvania.”

Not only was the movie credited for contributing to much of the public panic surrounding the Three Mile Island accident, but the movie was also cited in several press conferences afterward when reporters and others had trouble understanding both the mechanics and magnitude of the potential disaster. That is, the movie--a dramatic fiction--became a reference text for objectively explaining the truth of the danger faced by millions of Americans.

Who doesn't want a Bookgasm?

2010-04-19T07:29:00.000-07:00

Hello my fellow mutants,

Check out what Rod Lott at Bookgasm has to say about TDATDA. Here's the first para.

"My remembrance of THE DAY AFTER, the 1983 TV movie about a nuclear attack on the American heartland, is simple: I was forbidden to watch it. Apparently, my mom was convinced the filmmakers had somehow captured the Armageddon that was just looming around the corner, just as soon as the Russians pushed the button."

Click here to read the rest of the review and check out more of their recommendations.

SC

Writers Read Post

2010-04-14T13:59:00.000-07:00

I was lucky enough to be asked to contribute to the Writers Read blog. Here's my entry, wherein I try to make myself sound really smart while also being honest about books that are living in my head these days. Check it out. Buy these books. All of them. And read them before midnight.

AWP Reflections/Fragments: Part 2: The Awkward Hug

2010-04-12T09:14:00.000-07:00

My compatriot and co-editor, Matt Roberts, who is normally a warm, fuzzy, and congenial person, described AWP as, "a lot of awkward hugging." This is true. Because writers are by nature both lonely and emotive, we often stumble into a lot of such embraces. You've done it. Or you've seen other people doing it. The Awkward Hug usually begins with a furtive glance at the other person's chest where, if you're lucky, the name badge is facing out and you're able to confirm an identity and connection (if you're unlucky, it simply looks like you're unabashedly staring at someone's chest). Then comes eye contact. Raised eyebrows, perhaps a "Heyyyyy!" or some other outburst of feeling, and finally, the choice: handshake or hug. Sometimes you or the other person approaches, arms up and spread already like an albatross coming in for a landing, and then you really have no choice but to accept the awkward hug. If it's a big person (like me) it may feel like you're being attacked by an overstuffed armchair. Sometimes the Awkward Hug begins with the the classic handshake fake, that gesture at formality, that is then retracted and accompanied with a verbal rejection of such formality ("Oh, come here, you!") before the two of you go in for a sloppy awkward hug right there in the middle of the bookfair, in front of all those people. Sometimes the handshake is real, a first step in the Awkward Side Hug dance, wherein you both stand sideways, sometimes swaying in unison to an inaudible tune, and try to fold the other person in half with your hugging motion, a dance that seems to occur more and more often as the conference progresses, as if everyone is just too emotionally and physically spent from all that excessive, rampant hugging.

As perhaps a reaction to, or astute commentary on the Awkward Hug, if you're lucky and you happen to see him at a poetry reading in a hotel on the last night of the conference, there's the eternally refreshing, Dinty Moore Fist Bump (accompanied by exploding fist motion).

Until next year, fellow AWPawkward Huggers!

Reflections/Fragments of AWP: Part 1

2010-04-12T07:15:00.000-07:00

It's the day after the day after AWP (sorry) . . . and I'm still processing it all, but here's some fragments, reflections, memories, and observations from my time there:

The word of the conference, uttered by many (and often) was, "overwhelming," with some suggesting that the crush of writers, publishers, editors, and strange, hobbit-like creatures was perhaps too much for a young writer, that it might be discouraging or daunting for someone who isn't "established," and while I can understand this (the sheer numbers and volume on display at the bookfair is stunning), I have to say that I've never felt that way at AWP. Rather, I like to look at that massive convention hall full of people, the bars overflowing, and think to myself, "All of these people love books." I feel at home in the madness and a bit mad myself, like a loquacious pinball bouncing off the flippers and posts

I have to say also that this bookfair met several of my strict qualifications for the title, "Best. Bookfair. Ever.":

1. It was all in one room.
2. They served beer.
3. There was a giant blue bear staring in the windows
4. They served turkey legs (yes, those huge country-fair sized ones), and pork sandwiches.

Though the bookfair was all in one room, it was also significantly smaller than in previous years. It was painfully obvious in many cases that the economy had taken its toll on publishers and magazines. Many presses and mags just couldn't afford to be there, and that was sad.

I did bring and sell copies of TDATDA, and clearly should have brought more since I sold all those that I brought (hooray!). HUGE thanks to everyone who bought a copy and to my friend and editor, Luke Gerwe who slogged around the bookfair talking up my book to people, doing more to put it in the hands of other people than I probably did. If you weren't able to get a copy, I'm sorry. Hopefully you'll order it from your local bookstore or pop on over to Amazon and get it there.

More AWProcessing soon . . .

- SC

On the Lyric Essay as Form or Genre or What?

2010-03-25T15:01:00.000-07:00

The term "Lyric Essay," gets a lot of serious attention in David Shields' new book, Reality Hunger, where it is held up as an example of the kind of writing that Shields loves. Read David's book if you can; or at the very least check out the Reality Hunger mini-conference-thing over at the Brevity Blog. In David's book the lyric essay is presented as the form or genre (or ????) where (to oversimplify it) books that are hard to categorize can find a home. I don't know for sure where the term comes from, but I know that I first heard about it in graduate school about 10 years ago from John D'Agata. He had just come out with his first book, Halls of Fame (a book that seriously messed with my head and my preconceptions about books, literature, genre, form, etc.) and was the nonfiction editor at Seneca Review, which had just done a special issue on lyric essays, an issue that has now become a kind of classic text in nonfiction. Of course D'Agata's new book, About a Mountain, has received a lot of attention lately. He recently visited Fresno and talked with my students about his book and about the term "lyric essay." He admitted that he had grown tired of the term and said that he thought he was best understood as a pedagogical tool, as a way of understanding and teaching people about a kind of essay, rather than as a form or sub-genre. This makes a lot of sense to me. But what then do we make of magazines, or perhaps more striking, entire presses that specify a preference for lyric essays? What then do we make of Shields's preference for the lyric essay form? And does the term as a pedagogical tool accomplish any more clarity or precision than the term "nonfiction"? One of the things I love about nonfiction is the shared project of definition--a project I personally hope we never finish.

Largehearted Apocalypse

2010-03-24T10:24:00.000-07:00

My fellow mutants,

My new Playlist/Essay for the Largehearted Boy's Book Note's feature is up for reading pleasure. Check it out.

SWC

TDATDA at AWP

2010-03-24T05:45:00.000-07:00

Hey Friends,

If you're looking to get your mits on a copy of TDATDA at AWP, please stop by the table for The Normal School in Exhibit Hall A, table K18. I'll be there most days, happy to talk if you care to swing by.

I'll also be reading (probably from the book) at 12:00 on Saturday, 4/10 as part of the Colorado State University MFA Program's 25th Anniversary Celebration.

See you all there!

-- S

Review: Wichita Eagle online

2010-03-14T08:44:00.000-07:00

A nice little review from Lisa McLendon at the Wichita Eagle. I truly appreciate the close reading:

Nearly 30 years ago, before perestroika and glasnost and the fall of the Berlin Wall, Lawrence, Kansas, was overrun by refugees from a nuclear blast. Allen Fieldhouse turned into a trauma center, neighbors turned against neighbors, death and destruction overtook the population, and what was left of society broke down. At least it all did on TV.

The TV movie "The Day After," which aired in 1983, was set and filmed in Lawrence. It was a daring movie, pretty heavy for TV at the time, and it was intended to be an unflinching look at what the aftermath of a nuclear attack could look like.

It's against the backdrop of this movie that Steven Church sets his memoir, " The Day After 'The Day After': My Atomic Angst" (Soft Skull Press, 218 pages, $14.95 paper), a touching, insightful look at growing up in Kansas during the waning days of the Cold War, and the lasting influence that childhood events can carry. o

"My generation is really the first generation to have television memories that are not mostly tinged with nostalgic, warm, and fuzzy undertones," Church notes. "We're perhaps the first generation to be raised by the TV as a substitute entertainer and authority, a major familial and cultural institution in our lives —with all the complicated dynamics that entails."

Church details his childhood with pieces of history and culture — Quantrill's Raiders to the Incredible Hulk — aptly dropped in. Though he doesn't come across as a "troubled child," it's obvious that the label would have been applied to him at the time, coming from a home broken by divorce, perhaps a little too preoccupied with war and violence. But he artfully captures how kids can latch onto an idea and blow it all out of proportion in their minds, and how that idea can shape, though not necessarily scar, someone, and even make that person better down the line.

MORE! MORE! More thoughtful discussion about nonfiction and our Reality Hunger

2010-03-10T15:21:00.001-08:00

I haven't read these yet, but I know what I'll be doing when I get a spare moment.

1. Laura Miller gets all worked about Reality Hunger at Salon.

2. An interview with David on the GQ blog.

As I told someone today, I'm just kind of giddy at the thought that nonfiction besides that James Frey book is being talked about, and talked about (in most cases) in intelligent, thought-provoking ways.

SC

On Author's Notes, Endnotes, and other Apologies

2010-03-07T07:49:00.000-08:00

Recent criticism of John D’Agata’s book, About a Mountain, by David Bock in the NY Times focused on his admissions in the endnotes that in at least one “heart of a crucial section,” he conflated time, and in other places used composite characters. In my response to this criticism on the Brevity blog, I said it was a shame that discussion of a good book had been derailed by focus on and endnote. Dinty (and others) argued that he might have been OK with some of D’Agata’s choices if he had known up front what to expect. This got me thinking even more about the Author’s Note as a formal convention and why they seem so problematic to me.

In my first book, I included the following Author’s Note immediately after the table of contents:

“This book is a work of creative nonfiction. Many (but not all) names have been changed. Other things have been added or subtracted, highlighted, distorted, possibly corrupted, compressed, expanded, exaggerated, or dramatized for emotional effect, and I promise that the reasons for this are very convincing. This book is full of detailed speculation. Any resemblance between reality and my imagination is purely coincidental and unintentional. This is not a book of fact. This is a story.”

I wrote this because I felt I had to (I’d blame my publisher but it wasn’t that simple). As you can hear in the tone, I was a bit resistant to writing it. Despite my careful use on the page of what Judith Kitchen calls “signposts” to mark departures into the imagination and my exaggerated speculations about the Guinness World Record Holders, I felt I needed to tell the reader up front what to expect and how to engage with the book. In effect, I was reluctantly giving the reader a map with the “Chicken” exit marked. But I was also trying to protect myself from readers who don’t pay attention to overt signposting, who don’t realize that I am speculating, fictionalizing and fabricating as a method of essaying.

The emotional heart of the book for me centered on my younger brother’s death in a car accident; but what I hoped to capture on the page was his life and his heroic stature in my mind. I expected some people to question how my obsession with Guinness freaks converges with a narrative of my brother’s life and death. What I didn’t expect was the Kirkus reviewer’s response to this based on my Author’s Note. He/she says:

“Matt figures so prominently in the narrative that it is a shock when, halfway through the text, he dies at age 18 after losing control of his car. Then again, some of the tragedy may have been invented. The Author's Note that prefaces this "work of creative nonfiction" states that many names have been changed, many distortions and dramatizations included. It ends with these alarming words: "Any resemblance between reality and my imagination is purely coincidental and unintentional. This is not a book of fact. This is a story."

That line, “some of the tragedy may have been invented,” is still hard for me to read. My efforts to prepare the reader and provide a map to reading the book succeeded in at least one case only in undermining the emotional power of what truly was the “heart of a crucial passage” and casting doubt over the one thing I didn't want readers to doubt. It allowed the reviewer the luxury to disbelieve, the easy exit of lazy reading, and an escape from engaging with the book on its own terms.

My second book contains an Author’s Note that basically says, “If you’re confused, call it fiction,” while my most recent book contains no Author’s Note, no apology or explanation for extended fictional explorations, and only a few signposts to mark the way.

Hometown Love for The Day After The Day After

2010-03-02T08:07:00.000-08:00

So, ignore my giant head (I didn't even realize I had earrings in that picture. Yikes.) Here's a nice article on TDATDA from the Lawrence Journal World, my hometown newspaper, and a paper that I delivered for my first job at the age of 8. Thanks to Gavon Laessig for a great piece and for not making me sound like too much of an idiot!

p.s. If you have an hour or two, check out the comments!

For the Sake of Argument: Moral Risk in Fiction vs. Nonfiction

2010-03-01T10:04:00.000-08:00

For the sake of argument . . . let us assume that the goal of the fiction writer and nonfiction writer is basically the same--the reader's willful suspension of disbelief, or (I think more accurately) the willful acceptance that they are entering into an artistic relationship (yes, I realize that for some, this assumption is too problematic to even continue with the argument . . . yet I will persist, if only for the sake of argument), a relationship that is, by its nature, also fraught with moral and ethical tensions. With fiction, you enter into this relationship only after agreeing that the whole thing is possibly, necessarily fictionalized, that it is NOT reality. With nonfiction, you enter into the relationship with the opposite agreement, or perhaps without any agreement at all. Much of the recent criticism of nonfiction seems to focus on apparent contractual violations by writers, but it seems to me that what defines fiction is an agreement between parties, a contract, a safety net that protects both parties; and what seems to be rankling so many reviewers and critics (at least on some level) is the apparently radical suggestion that the relationship between readers and writers of nonfiction is not as nearly contractually-bound as we thought, that when you enter into the world of a nonfiction book, you are flying without a net . . .

The Day After Attack Segment

2010-02-28T09:32:00.001-08:00

Check out John Lithgow as Dr. Huxley (nice name, huh?) in the Attack sequence from The Day After. This is pretty much when I went and hid in my closet.

Correction: Nice Girls Don't Explode

2010-02-25T06:15:00.000-08:00

OK, true confession. I'm not much of a journalist. I try. But it's not only possible but likely that I made some mistakes in the book that we didn't catch in copyediting and proofreading. It happens. Here's one: in the book I mention that, in addition to the movie, The Day After, they also filmed in Lawrence the movie, Earth Girls are Easy, starring the every-annoying Julie Brown. I'm not sure why I fixated on this. In fact, the movie filmed in Lawrence was called "Nice Girls Don't Explode" and did not star Julie Brown, but was undoubtedly an equally awful movie. Sorry for the error, folks. . . Oh, and thanks to those people from Lawrence who actually read my books, notice these things and email me to let me know.

Rejected title ideas for The Day After The Day After

2010-02-05T16:12:00.001-08:00

Some of these are actual titles that were considered and then ultimately rejected. Some are not:

- Mansas: Autobiography of a Lowland Ape
- The Day After The Day After: Movies, Mutants, and Mutually Assured Destruction
- Mansas: One Boy's Journey to Manhood in Kansas
- Going Rogue
- Cornflake Fallout: Living Through Apocalypse
- Hemanuelle: One Man's Erotic Journey from Milan to Minsk
- Fear and Bloating in Kansas: A Life lived behind the Sneeze Guard
- A Million Little Reasons: How One Crappy Memoir Fucked it Up for Everyone Else
- Fallout: Living After The Day After

Please feel free to leave your own suggestions.

SC

Signs of the Apocalypse: 4. Royal Carribean Cruises

2010-01-21T12:31:00.000-08:00

When I heard the spokesman for Royal Carribean interviewed on NPR about their decision to continue taking tourist to Haiti, he first explained how they were delivering about 40-60 pallets of supplies (which, btw, is nothing considering the size of those damn boats), and then when Steve Inskeep (btw, God, I miss Bob Edwards) asked him what the cruise ship guests where doing when they docked in Haiti, he said, "Having fun, of course," and then he ticked of a list of activities that included jet-skiing, snorkeling, and just all around beach fun . . . and then I realized that, in the event of a global apocalypse, it's quite possible that the only human survivors will the despicable bloated bastards on a cruise ships. Terrifying.

Signs of the Apocalypse: 12. Garrison Keillor Goes Off

2010-01-04T11:48:00.000-08:00

First, read this from Mr. Keillor, wherein he bags on Emerson, Harvard, intellectualism, Unitarianism, and delivers a borderline anti-semitic rant about how Jesus is the reason for the season:

http://www.baltimoresun.com/news/opinion/oped/bal-op.keillor16dec16,0,225627.story

Wow, huh? Somehow, for me, he's even less funny than he was before--which is saying something since as a child I was convinced that A Prairie Home Companion was some kind of devious adult plot designed to confuse and alienate children, some kind of contract agreed upon in back rooms over cigars and brandy, wherein parents would foist the show upon their kids, often on Sundays after Church, laughing hysterically over things that were obviously not funny at all. As I grew older, I wondered if my failure to find anything amusing about Garrison Keillor was a failure to develop properly, like I missed some important stage in evolution wherein Guy Noir suddenly becomes the funniest damn thing you've ever heard. I'm happy to discover, thanks to Mr. Keillor, that I may have just been too smart for my own good, too elitist and intellectual. Too much Emerson in Elementary school, perhaps. Too many verses of "Jingle Bells, Batman Smells," "Grandma Got Runover by a Reindeer," or other crass corruptions of the Holiday Spirit. Thanks, G. for reminding us what's important.

Signs of the Apocalypse: 33. Chris Cornell's Career

2010-01-03T09:06:00.000-08:00

Then:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bYLqet2IZkY

Now:

http://popup.lala.com/popup/432627079823885471

What can I say, I always imagined that my post-apocalyptic journey would be accompanied by the album, Badmotorfinger, and that instead of fighting Tina Turner in the Thunderdome, I'd be battling Kim Thayhill in a vicious metal axe duel reminiscent of the final, climactic scene in Crossroads where Ralph Macchio, channeling the spirit of Robert Johnson, battles Satan's lead guitarist, Steve Vai . . . or something like that (of course, I always kind of rooted for Vai. Macchio was such a putz and about as believable as a guitar virtuoso as he was as a karate wunderkind). But the dream just doesn't work if Chris Cornell is there hanging out with Timbaland. I've heard that Soundgarden is planning a reunion and my only hope is that his bandmates can save Cornell from post-apocalyptic irrelevance.

Signs of the Apocalypse: 7. Sportacus and Lazytown

2009-12-29T06:49:00.000-08:00

A few years ago, my son came home his obnoxiously progressive New England preschool and informed me that he was not allowed to talk about Superheroes at school because they solved their problems by fighting and not with their words.

He was right, I suppose. But they’re Superheroes! They’re the fabric of childhood. I could barely imagine my own without Superheroes. Their stories helped me believe I might actually survive the nuclear 80’s. Their problems were not like parking tickets, traffic jams, or sub-prime mortgages that you could just talk about. They were dealing with evil super-villains, rogue mutants, and extra-terrestrial war-mongerers. They had the kind of problems that you might only be able to solve by fighting.

One of my favorites, The Incredible Hulk, couldn’t even use words. He just grunted and bellowed like an animal. But his anger, his insecurity and pain was his superpower. His existential angst made him special and allowed him to help others with his unique physical gifts.

What better role model for a child of the 80’s?

Still I had to admit that Malcolm (or his teachers) had a point. It’s just difficult for me to deal with the idea that he could have a superhero-free childhood or, worse yet, that he would think the model of a Superhero is this guy on TV now named “Sportacus.”

If you haven’t seen an episode of Lazytown, you’re missing one of the most truly bizarre television experiences. Teamed with a spunky little punk rock girl in pink hair and a gang of muppet-esque children, Sportacus speaks with a faux-French accent and wears a creepy handlebar mustache waxed to sharp points. He outfits himself in a tight blue spandex flight-suit and aviator goggles; and he champions things like physical activity and eating fruit. Pretty much any problem in Lazytown can be solved with exercise and an apple. Sportacus is, in real life, an "Icelandic sports star" who wrote, produced, and directed Lazytown in an effort to teach children about good health.

But here’s my main concern: What good would Sportacus be when the apocalypse came? What kind of model hero is this? What dreams of survival would he inspire? His beloved fruit would all be poisoned with radiation. Exercise is difficult when you have another head growing out of your shoulder and sort of pointless if you’ve mutated into some kind of Ninja reptile. Lazytown is yet another reminder that my son lives in a world that is both eerily familiar to my own childhood reality and strikingly different.

Signs of the Apocalypse: 23: Celebrity News

2009-12-28T08:31:00.000-08:00

Thanks to a terrible mistake made a couple of years ago, the celebrity "news" rag, US Weekly arrived at our house for what seemed like an eternity, competing for space in the bathroom magazine rack with our more high-browed subscriptions (Harpers, Ranger Rick, etc.). I could typically consume (note, I did not use the word "read") the entire thing in about 3 minutes and could then speak with authority and at length on John and Kate Gosselin's marriage troubles, Lindsay Lohan's latest scrape with the law or fight with her DJ girlfriend, Sam Ronson, or maybe discover something else to hate about Spencer Pratt and Heidi Montag and marvel at the phenomena that is Paris Hilton, or Perez Hilton, or mock stars for their red carpet fashion faux paus, or express an opinion on Zack Efron's haircut . . . when I've never actually seen the "art" for which these "stars" are supposedly famous. I've never listened to Fallout Boy. Ever. But I can tell you who attended the wedding between Pete Wentz and Ashlee Simpson. I've never seen High School Musical or The Hills, or most of the movies and TV that is "discussed" in the magazine, except in clip form on TV clip-shows like The Soup; but I can express an opinion and make an argument, allude to them in lectures or essays, and appear to actually know what I'm talking about. I suppose the equivalent happens in other contexts. I suppose there are people out there who can tell you where Junot Diaz or Joan Didon shop or vacation or groom their dogs, but who haven't read a single word they've written besides the occasional quote . . . are there? Who are you? Part of me loves the whole tragic post-modern folly of it all--the idea that people can be famous for being famous and that fans can love an actor or musician's (or writer's?) fame more than anything they've actually produced or left behind in the world. And another part of me finds it terrifying . . . sort of like that horrible music video Heidi Montag made.

Signs of the Apocalypse: 18. The Kindle

2009-12-27T07:21:00.000-08:00

Note: this begins a series of semi-regular posts on "Signs of the Apocalypse," or evidence that the world (or at least parts of my world) is tilting toward self-immolation. Feel free to contribute your own signs or comments. They are in no particular rank or order.

18. The Kindle: I realize this may be a controversial selection. I know a lot of smart, book-loving people who love their Kindles; and this may actually be the real problem here--all those smart people who normally buy books now buying a Kindle and downloading files. Because, sadly publishing is a market driven industry, the more the market demands with their wallets that their "books" be published in electronic format so they can be read on a Kindle, the more the industry will work to end books as we've come to know and love them for centuries. Scary, huh? I think so. Call me anachronistic, but I love books. You can't crack the spine of a Kindle and smell that new-book smell (not yet, at least, though I'm sure that's coming). As a writer (artist?), I'm interested in making objects. Things in the world. Books. Something unique and special and made of paper that people can hold in their hands and share with other people. Can you share a Kindle? As The Day After taught us, the electro-magnetic pulse from the first bombs will disable all electronic devices. But I'll be there with my boxes of books, reading to pass the time and, if you're nice, maybe I'll let you borrow one. Maybe libraries will be the entertainment centers of the post-apocalyptic world . . . now that I think about it, maybe we NEED the bomb to save books from the Kindle.

Speaking of Action Figures . . .

2009-10-15T10:26:00.001-07:00

I played with Star Wars figures long past the age when it would've been considered normal. I did it in my room, behind locked doors, quietly waging epic battles and constructing elaborate hero narratives with tiny plastic dolls when I probably should have been playing with some kind of ball. But I didn't care. I was ridiculously proud to own a Boba Fet action figure. In Kansas you had to mail-order to get Boba Fet (was that true elsewhere?); and while I was disappointed when the dog, Skipper, chewed the heads off both Boba Fet and Darth Vader, I also embraced the story possibilities. Suddenly there were headless zombies in space. Darth Vader was bad and all that. But without a head, he was super-bad, uber-evil. There was no chance for the feel-good father-son narrative of the real Star Wars story, no wheezing breaths or booming James Earl Jones voice, just a decapitated body (the old one, before they muscled him up) in a black jumpsuit, big dominatrix boots, and a cape. Scary. Headless Vader didn't care who his son was. He was still going to eat his brains or at least crush them into a pulpy mass of goo . . . though I can't attest to this as fact, it did seem that Skipper preferred to chew on the heads of the dark side. Somehow Luke, Han, Chewbacca, and Leia survived, perhaps with a few teethmarks but mostly unharmed, unblemished and ready for their roles in the new story.

TDATDA is for lovers . . . of action figures.

2009-10-15T07:24:00.000-07:00

Folks,

My friend, William Bradley, a damn fine writer, blogger (at ethicalexhibitionist.blogspot.com), and editor passed on this link. Let's say you were interested in purchasing collectible action figures. Let's say that you also read books. You might want to purchase the Atomic Skull from the Justice League Unlimited Figures AND, in a fit of whimsy or ecstatic consumerism, also purchse The Day After The Day After: My Atomic Angst. Check out the sidebar where they offer recommendations.

Of course when I wrote the book I was intentionally targeting the collectible action figure audience niche. It's all about marketing.

Thanks, William for passing this along.

SC

TDATDA Available for Pre-Order on Amazon.

2009-10-14T11:57:00.000-07:00

Hey Folks,

Just in case you want to get a head start on your reading for next March, you can now pre-order The Day After The Day After: My Atomic Angst on Amazon . . . along with my latest book, Theoretical Killings: Essays and Accidents.

SC

Wiki History of The Day After . . . and some Plagiarism?

2009-10-11T07:49:00.000-07:00

Hey Folks,

So, if you'd like to read a really exhaustive history of the planning, production, and filming of The Day After . . . it's probably not going to be in my book. You can get it here, in the Wikipedia page for The Day After. Much of it is fascinating and, in some ways, relevant to my book. It sounds more factual, more objective and researched than some of my book and, I'm prepared to admit, may even contradict some things I remember on the page. Perhaps worse, things in my book may echo things in these entries--even though I intentionally avoided reading such texts while working on the book.

But there's something else I noticed as I read the exhaustive text on the site.

These lines: "filmmakers repainted the signs for several businesses, changing the names of the stores; the facades were stained with dark smudges of soot. The large windows were shattered into sharp teeth; bricks were scattered across the sidewalk amidst scraps of lumber and several junked cars were painted with clouds of black spray. Two industrial-sized yellow fans bolted to a flatbed trailer blew clouds of white flakes into the air"

These lines are taken almost verbatim from an essay about the film I published years ago in a The Ruminator titled "After the Day After." They show up again in my book, The Day After The Day After: my Atomic Angst. But here they are in a Wikipedia entry. Should I be flattered that whoever created the page somehow tracked down my essay and thought enough of what I said that he/she stole it? Should I be upset? I don't know. I guess I'm not terribly worried about it. Perhaps it's simply another lesson in the fun and risk of trusting Wiki for facts.

Oh, and if you happen to pick up my book when it comes out, I hope you'll appreciate my use of my own words in the scene.

SC

Terry Gross is perplexed by the influence of The Day After

2009-10-10T08:36:00.001-07:00

Hey Friends,

I love Terry Gross and Fresh Air. And we don't get it here in the Central Valley of California. Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that Fresno was just named the "Dumbest City in America" by The Beast . . . probably not. But I digress. In an otherwise fascinating and, quite frankly, somewhat terrifying interview with David Hoffman, the author of The Dead Hand, he mentions (at about 29 minutes and 30 seconds) the TV movie, The Day After and quotes Reagan's journal entry about feeling greatly depressed after watching the movie. He talks about a couple of other related topics and then Terry steers him back to The Day After. Like many people, she's troubled by the idea that a movie--a TV melodrama of all things--would be something that helps Reagan understand the reality of nuclear war. Hoffman rightly mentions that, of any President, Reagan is the one who would be most influenced by a movie. But they shy away from the some of the ancillary issues--such as the role that television played as a democratic medium and the increasingly blurry lines between TV and reality (i.e. the China Syndrome and Three Mile Island). Still it's a great interview. Oh, and if anyone knows Terry Gross, please let her know that I have a book that might shed some light on the unique influence of The Day After!

SC