(non)fiction

Posted on September 22, 2011 by Annie Neugebauer

Originally posted on February 1, 2010 at 8:10 PM

My best friend and my mom both seem to prefer nonfiction to fiction: memoirs, biographies, and autobiographies mostly. When I asked Kitty why, her answer was, “because it’s true. When I read fiction, I know it didn’t happen, so it’s less valuable.” Okay, so maybe that wasn’t an exact quote, but it’s the gist of it. She needs to know that what she’s reading is valid, possible, and worth something.

I’m not a big fan of nonfiction. When I read an autobiography, for example, I find myself questioning the outlandish things they say happened to them. They’re exaggerating for comedic effect. They’re lying, to sell copies. They’re claiming more importance to mundane events than they actually feel, to connect with their readers. All of these thoughts and suspicions knock me out of the story. I can’t enjoy it if I think someone’s misleading me.

With fiction, there’s an automatic suspension of disbelief required to even start reading. There’s no “this wouldn’t happen” syndrome, for me, because none of it happened. I don’t feel cheated or lied to, because I know going into it that none of this is claimed to be true. I can get over that before I even start reading, and off I go into a highly entertaining read that doesn’t once make me wonder, “Is she making this up?” I can follow the story for its own worth.

I think the primary difference is one of belief. How trusting are you? How willing are you to accept words for absolute truth? If the answer is “not at all,” like me, fiction is the way to go. If the answer is that you generally believe people are honest, nonfiction might be more suited to your tastes.

When it comes to human nature, are you a believer or a skeptic?

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Happy birthday, Mr. Poe.

Posted on September 22, 2011 by Annie Neugebauer

Originally posted on January 20, 2010 at 1:33 AM

I’m writing this in the last technical minute of Edgar Allan Poe’s 201st birthday. It seems fitting to wish it at midnight. Ann Rice perhaps, I would say happy birthday to at 3am–the witching hour–but for my dear friend Poe, the 12th toll of that old ebony clock seems the most appropriate, don’t you think?

I discovered that sacred old orange copy of the collected works of Poe on the top shelf of our bookcase when I was only in grade school. I believe that he was the first author I read on my own that I truly, passionately enjoyed. I still do, more so than any other author. Poe wrote horror before horror was a fad. He was elemental in the creation of the gothic genre. He wrote scary when quality was still a prerequisite. These are obvious reasons that I love him.

Poe was a poet before my namesake was even born (his name’s in the word, people). He’s a master–and my artistic inspiration. “The Raven” is still, to this day, the best poem I’ve ever read. Kyle says I get so into it when I read it out loud that it’s really, really frightening. I like that. “The Raven” is the reason that I dare to write horror poetry. I’m sure there are others, but I have never met anyone besides me who attempts what he attempted.

Did you know that Poe was also the creator of the detective story? Seriously, without Poe there would almost certainly be no Sherlock Holmes, Nancy Drew, or even Dr. House. Many people recognize him in big ways in the science fiction genre as well, which I dabble in. Poe was also a literary critic, something I can see myself doing in the future. But perhaps most importantly, he was the first famous American writer to write as his sole career. He paved the way for me on many fronts.

I’ve decided that the best way to honor this literary forefather of mine is to reread some of his works. In 201 years, I don’t expect or even hope that anyone will grieve me as a person. But if they can read some of my work and get pleasure from it, I’ll be a happy ghost.

The good little children (like my sane husband) are tucked safely under the covers dreaming of puppies. But we… we goblins are out in abundance tonight. There’s magic in the air, folks, and I’m going to go revel in it.

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On the New Year and Resolutions

Posted on September 22, 2011 by Annie Neugebauer

Originally posted on January 3, 2010 at 5:45 PM

Happy New Year!

I’m a big believer in resolutions. I don’t think there’s anything magical or sacred about the New Year; I think it’s a reminder. An annual reminder that goals are an important part of life. For me, it’s a chance to take the time to step back, examine my progress, and decide where I want to go from there. All year long I’m conscious of what I want; often, I don’t follow through and promise myself to do it until New Year’s Eve.

This year, my main resolution is pretty obvious: I want to be published. Technically, my goal for myself is to be under contract or published in at least one way. Poetry, short story, novel, whatever. Published or on the way there. It’s happening. This year. I can feel it.

I think the trick to setting successful New Year’s resolutions is to make them long-term goals. I could tell myself that I’m going to sit down and write for an hour a day every day no matter what, but the chances are pretty good that I would mess that up within a short period of time and consider my resolution blown for the whole year. Then where’s the motivation to try to keep it up? If my resolution is the ultimate goal, that leaves me room for error. I can have little blips and still succeed, making me less likely to give up.

The hubby’s resolution? He wants to be able to run a marathon by the end of the year. He’s following along my same principal: promising himself that he’ll work out every day or whatever won’t last, but training for the ultimate goal should get him healthy and in shape, just like he wants. Pretty smart, huh?

So what’s your resolution? It’s not too late to make one for 2010. I think it’s a year of change and stability, two seemingly conflicting ideas that fit together quite nicely. Just don’t forget… think long-term and make it achievable. Here are some great quotations about risk, resolution, and success to inspire you:

“Only those who will risk going too far can possibly find out how far they can go.”
–T. S. Eliot

“Always bear in mind that your own resolution to success is more important than any other one thing.”
–Abraham Lincoln

But my favorite one, that is now on my office window with my resolution, is this:
“We will either find a way or make one.”
–Hannibal

I resolve to be under contract or published by 2011.

I will either find a way or make one.

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NOW we can all start celebrating Christmas!

Posted on September 22, 2011 by Annie Neugebauer

Originally posted on November 29, 2009 at 7:15 PM

Last night I decorated inside, and today Kyle and I put up lights outside. It really took me back to my childhood, with my dad cursing grumpily about the strands that were fine until he’d already wrapped them around the column or whatever and then go out. Find the loose bulb! And of course, you have to match up the male and female ends of the strands ahead of time if you don’t go in order, assuring at least one “redo” per project. Ah, the holiday spirit.

A lot of people spend an inordinate amount of time trying to be happy. They read self-help books, do things that are supposed to make them happy, seek out particular people, jobs, etc. They take medicines, go to shrinks, try to puzzle out what’s wrong. Why aren’t they happy? Call me crazy, but I don’t think there’s anything wrong with not being happy. I mean, if you’re never happy, that’s a different story that probably does need treatment of some kind, but just because you’re not predominantly happy doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with you. It just means the world demands an unrealistic degree of happiness.

There’s a lot to be happy and sad about for me these days. I’m incredibly stressed, and I still feel overwhelmed by grief sometimes. But I also have a lot to be thankful for, and a lot that does make me happy. Sometimes it’s hard bouncing back and forth, but I’ve decided that I’d rather do that than ignore them both and be numb all of the time. Numb’s okay too, by the way. Sometimes. Like when your wedding is three weeks away, you miss your dad, and you have too much to do to look forward to fun all of the time. Numb is good.

But putting up lights made me happy in a melancholy way. I (maybe due to being a poet?) have a knack for enjoying “negative” emotions as well. I can find a certain type of joy in being sad. Bittersweet, perhaps, to have fond memories of my dad, but that’s better than all bad ones. Or no memories at all. So when Kyle dropped a fairly shocking string of obscenities when he realized he’d flipped a strand and stapled it up, I could only smile. I was cursing under my breath, too, at the stupid metal stakes along the sidewalk, and hadn’t realized how funny it was until he did it too. I mean, it’s not really Christmas until someone drops the F-bomb.

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A Room of One’s Own

Posted on September 22, 2011 by Annie Neugebauer

Originally posted on November 19, 2009 at 5:48 PM

Virginia Woolf wrote a famous essay called “A Room of One’s Own,” in which she argues that women can be as exceptional as men in the writing of fiction if the playing field is leveled. She proposes that if Shakespeare had an equally talented sister, she still would not have been able to produce magnificent writing like his unless she had been allowed money and a room of her own in which to create art.

I personally think Shakespeare, like Elvis, is somewhat overrated (despite his skill), but I agree with what she argues in concept. In a time when women were not considered the equals of men in any field, she stepped up to argue that they should be. As far as writing fiction goes, I don’t think that stigma exists in quite the same way anymore. Perhaps, only, in literary fiction—such as would be studied in a classroom. Men still dominate that field, whether through chance, oppression, or skill, I’m not sure. I do think, though, that women can equal them if given an equal chance… money and a room of one’s own in which to write. Essentially: the luxury to take time away from everything else considered a woman’s duty and sit down to create a masterpiece.

That’s what I’m trying to do. I’ve been put in a circumstance in which I can knock out time for my goals, unlike so many people both male and female. I have the money needed to focus on writing, and I have a house with a room dedicated as my “office.” That’s so much more than most aspiring writers have, and in that way, I know that I am “lucky” or “blessed,” although these circumstances came about in an undesirable way.

To take advantage of the opportunity is harder than you might think. Even now, eighty years after Virginia Woolf’s essay, I still feel the societal pressures that dictate what I should do. And thankfully, they are not so much gender-driven as age-driven, and certainly not personal. But no matter how determined one may be, and how dedicated to one’s dreams, it’s hard to swim against the stream for so long. My fins are getting tired!

I’m going to keep chugging along, though, because in the end I know that’s the right thing for me to do. I would never be happy with myself if I didn’t take these chances, no matter the outcome. So I take a moment to acknowledge both the advantage and the struggle to use it, and keep on writing.

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