In junior high and high school I, like many of us, was assigned various books from the so-called canon of English-language literature. Usually I read them; sometimes I even liked them. When I didn’t, I chalked it up either to sullen juvenile immaturity (”I wasn’t ready for that book sophomore year.”) or the method–or mere fact–of pedagogy (”I bet I would’ve loved that book if it hadn’t been an assignment.”).

Never did I attribute dislike of a book to its merits or lack thereof. The message, delivered overtly or covertly, depending on the teacher, was that the canonical works were innoculated against anything as jejune as criticism based on aesthetic merit. Whether the underlying priniciple was that the books were good because they were in the canon (or in the canon because they were good) or that because they were in the canon, whether or not they were good was irrelevant, I learned the lesson well. Only as an adult, encountering some of these books on my own, have I started to realize that being considered part of the literary canon is no guarantee against a bad book.

Moby Dick, via Wikimedia Commons

I mention this because I just finished Moby Dick. This was a first read for me; somehow I’ve managed to miss it all this time. I should have kept missing it. I see what Melville was trying to do, but I don’t think he did it. And while I realize that novels were supposed to do different things in Melville’s time than are today’s novels, I adore some works from his contemporaries (I’m even a fan of “Bartleby, the Scrivener”) and feel Moby Dick falls short even by the literary standards of its own time. But I never would have felt comfortable saying that in my youth.

Roasting the sacred cows of your childhood: maybe that’s what being a grown-up is about.

Or, the Merits of a Backup Plan.

The constitutional deadline for legislative adjournment is Monday, May 21. But leadership, in their infinite wisdom, swore they would adjourn yesterday, April 30.

My team here at the day job was on call last night. Foreseeing a long, weary night ahead of us, we had agreed to come in at 11, rather than our usual 8:30, and we really weren’t surprised when our boss called Sunday evening and said, “They didn’t get much this weekend; better make it noon.” We slept in. We wore the comfiest clothes that still fulfilled office dress code. We filled our desk drawers with food, like mariners embarking on a three-year voyage.

And we seemed so vindicated when the house met for ten minutes and then recessed until 4:30. So vindicated when Representative Holberg placed the bonding bill on the day’s fiscal calendar. So vindicated when amendments flowed through our office like water.

“The Cut Man Cometh” is an episode of Sports Night in which the network plans an hour and a half of coverage around a boxing match and then feels punched out, itself, when the bout lasts a mere seven seconds.

Thus did we feel when both chambers adjourned by 6 p.m. We…we had food! We had comfy clothes! We came in 3 1/2 hours late–were we supposed to sit around all night?

Fortunately, owing to a late night on Friday, we had extra hours to offset, so we were able to split at 6:30. Which meant I was able to get to the Minnesota Threshold Network meeting after all. And I returned home at 9:30 Monday night, rather than some mind-boggling hour Tuesday morning. So that’s a win.

Still, it was not at all the way the day was supposed to go. This is not at all how the session is supposed to be going. Another missed deadline leaves egg on everyone’s face.

Always have a backup plan.

Yesterday I attended a MinnSpec event for which writers anonymously submitted the first thousand words of a story or novel for the privilege of having said excerpt ripped to pieces by current and former slush readers of respected spec publications. This was a fantastic education in the business of writing, and in thickening our collective skins so every rejection doesn’t reduce us to quivering puddles.

One of the slushers, author/editor Michael Merriam, gave us a fabulous pep talk about tenacity. He said something along the lines of, “I’ve known people who are better writers than I am. They just are. But I have eighty short story sales, plus a novel and a couple novellas, because I wanted it more.”

I’ll be the first to admit that I struggle in the tenacity department. My get-up-and-go often lacks both get-up and go. Call it innate lassitude; call it an upbringing that didn’t prioritize aggressively pursuing my dreams; I can’t say that I want it more. Or, at least, that’s what I’ve long thought.

But I looked around that room yesterday, and I realized that, of the 25 people attending, plus the dozen or so who’d filtered through the waiting list, I was one of only eleven who’d had the ovaries to submit an excerpt for critique. A chance at a free and comparatively painless (you should see some of the rejection letters floating around out there) honest assessment of our work, and only eleven of the 400+ official members of MinnSpec had the gumption–the tenacity, dare I say–to throw their hats in the ring.

I’m an inherently disorganized person. But that habit can be unlearned and better ones put in its place; it’s not a fatal flaw. Perhaps, ultimately, the key to being a tenacious person is believing that one is a tenacious person–or at least acting like one. Maybe, after all, I do want it more.

Mark your calendars, good people of the Twin Cities. I have three pieces in the upcoming issue of Do It Green! Minnesota. Said guide will be released at the Green Gifts Fair, November 15, 2008, from 10:00 until 5:00 at the Midtown Global Market, Lake Street and 10th Avenue in Minneapolis.

Another year of Theatre Unbound’s 24-Hour Play Project has come and gone with great success. “The Order of the Four Legs,” which I co-wrote with Ben Layne of Bad Attitude Productions was a blast to write and a treat to watch.

Check out the Upcoming Performances page for info on yet another Bye-Bye, Beirut-related escapade: an interview on Thursday, July 19th on KFAI’s “Fresh Fruit,” as part of their Queer Fringe Binge.

Check out the Upcoming Performances page for info. on my newest Bye-Bye, Beirut-related escapade: the Fringe-for-All on June 25th.

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I’ve created a new page for all things Bye-Bye, Beirut. Show dates and times, venue, ticket prices, and a bit more information on the show itself live there now. Information on any Fringe previews I might be taking part in would find its way there, too.

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My Fringe Festival venue for 2007 will be the Playwrights’ Center. Start planning your route now!

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Best Date Ever: True Stories that Celebrate Lesbian Relationships (Alyson Books), which includes my essay “Uncommon Vintage,” is on bookshelves now. Pick up a copy today!