Brittany Piano
Dr. Chandler
Creative Non-Fiction
December 6, 2009
Crazyhorse
Founded by poet Tom McGrath in 1960, Crazyhorse publishes an array of writing from fiction, essays, and poems. Crazyhorse accepts and publishes writing from both discovered writers, as well as those who are not yet established. Honorably, poems from Crazyhorse have recently appeared in The Best American Poetry 2007 and 2008.
Analysis of writings being accepted by editor:
- Accepts submissions year-round
- Winners receive Crazyhorse Fiction Prize, $2,000 and publication in Crazyhorse
- Welcomes submissions of fiction, poetry, and non-fiction
- Interested in original writing that engages the work of honest communication
- Editors read all submissions in their respective genres
- Submitted essay/fictional writing may be up to 25 pages
- 3-5 poems may be submitted
Description of several representative essays published:
Philip Schultz Attention
“More often than not, my wife needs some irregularly, a balancing act of knowing when to be visible, to remind her of her importance to our complexity. My sons need more than I can give them. One always needs more than the other.” – He starts off with the most important aspect of his life that needs his attention. As the essay continues, the reader will notice how it transfers from his family, to his pet, to his friends, to politics, etc.
“Because I never really had one before, my career never used to ask for much. Now, disguised as letters, e-mails, phone calls, it never lets me forget it’s there, a new best friend whose only purpose is to prove its inevitability.” – His job now isn’t just a ‘job’ it’s a career. The write is explaining how much attention it needs because of how important it is for him and his family.
“There’s our town, its politics, scandals and obligations, and all the fine, inescapable privileges of citizenship in an idea that no one understands anymore.” – All these values deserve attention because he’s admitting that they shape individuals lives, yet he’s describing how due to politics and current society, [he] isn’t even aware of his own freedom anymore.
Suzanne Buffam Enough
“I am wearing dark glasses inside the house to match my dark mood.” – She’s either angry, or depressed.
“I have left all the sugar out of the pie. My rage is a kind of domestic rage.” – She feels rebellious for leaving the sugar out of the pie. Now the reader can realize that her mood is of anger. By ‘domestic’ I believe she’s referring to the idea that domesticated women are usally known as bakers.
“The train whistles through the far hills. One day I plan to be riding it.” – Possibly, she’s had ‘enough’ of the place she’s living, and/or the lifestyle she’s living.
Characterization of the “niche” your publication fits in terms of audience and purpose:
Audience: Adults and/or young adults. From both essays I got the idea that the writer was older than me, but not by too much. I think it’s appropriate for readers my age.
Purpose: The essays were easy reader. I like readings I can relate to, and although I could relate more to “Attention” than to “Enough” I did enjoy both readings and feel that other readers my age would feel the same way.
Sunday, December 6, 2009
Blog #21 - Revision
11. Is there anything that may confuse the reader unnecessarily? How might the confusing passage be clarified?
Due to the fact that it's important for the reader NOT to be confused while reading my essay I believe that this is an important questions. I believe I wasn't clear enough in essay 4, regarding my reference to childhood attachments. Also, I must clarify exactly what the item I'm referring to symbolizes. With some work on those two subjects as a start, I feel the essay will be an easier read for my audience.
Due to the fact that it's important for the reader NOT to be confused while reading my essay I believe that this is an important questions. I believe I wasn't clear enough in essay 4, regarding my reference to childhood attachments. Also, I must clarify exactly what the item I'm referring to symbolizes. With some work on those two subjects as a start, I feel the essay will be an easier read for my audience.
Blog #20
Based on the feedback I receive, I've decided I am going to revise essay #4. The feedback I received was very helpful in the sense that Dr. Chandler provided me with a few different directions in which I can continue my writing. I enjoyed writing essay 4 because I was easily relatable and somewhat personal to me and therefore I believe with some revision it would result in producing a decent essay.
Monday, November 23, 2009
Blog 19 - Essay #4
One of the most feared situations for a parent is coming to terms with the fact that the other kids at school do not accept their child. No parent wants to hear that “little Jimmy” was the only kid in Mrs. Wright’s second grade class not to get an invitation to Erin’s birthday party. Nor does a parent want to discover that their child eats his or her lunch in the bathroom everyday because ultimately, it’s better than the embarrassment of sitting at the table with the kids who have their lunch propelled into their face everyday. Additionally, no parent wants to witness his or her child unsociably staying home Friday night after Friday night sitting in front of the television, instead of attending their high school football game or going to see a movie, or even going on a date. After all this time of being labeled as the quintessential popular girl with her clique of friends I find it safe to say that I’d trade all the varsity letters, all the boys, all the parties, and all the homecoming dances and proms to be the mellow, outcast who nobody bothered to acknowledge; but that’s my opinion from the outside looking in.
For the average fifteen year-old the first week of high school often entails a mixture of fear and embarrassment. However, for myself and my group of girlfriends, all of whom already had older sisters who were in the high school, the first week of freshman year was invigorating. Who needed parents when we had upperclassmen to drive us to school? I was the only one out of the clique, however, who participated in extracurricular activities--I was a cheerleader, and it had just so happened that I was only one of three freshmen to make the varsity team. Luckily for me then, eating lunch in the freshman/sophomore cafeteria was never even a consideration as I already had seats saved for me by juniors and seniors in the upperclassmen cafeteria; life was swell.
It was obvious that other people, boys and girls both, did not appreciate my posse. We ran with the fast crowd, and the others couldn’t keep up. The boy who was voted “best-looking” his senior year, yea, we were at his house every weekend, and the other boy, who drove the newest, fastest, hottest car that his parents spoiled him with, we rode home with him; and if there was a party, we were there. All of that never really got to my head, however, until it was me who was on the outs.
My mother always said to me, “Two’s company, and three’s a crowd.” I replied mockingly, “And four’s a party!” Did you ever hear the statement, “Mother knows best”? Well my mom should have added that one into her book of quotations to recite to me, because as I learned the hard way, it was true. My mother was nicely trying to inform me that I was the person in the clique who made things crowded. While the other girls in my little group each had an older sister who were best friends, when it came time to hanging out alone they had each other, and well, as my mother said, “Two’s company…”
I started to experience that everything that everyone envied me for, the attractive looking guys, the constant group of girlfriends, wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. What good were one or two good-looking guys when there were five of us to fight over him? I suddenly found as well that my two so-called best friends didn’t appreciate me hanging out with any of the cheerleaders either. My life became controlled; “No, you can’t like him!” and “Why do you want to hang out with her?” I began questioning if this group was really healthy for me.
After removing myself from my own little clique I began to find that I didn’t need them to make me popular and that the majority of my classmates liked me for who I was. Most of my now friends even said that I was more fun to be around when I didn’t associate with “those girls”. Looking from my standpoint now, the outside in, I feel it’s safe to say that maybe I wouldn’t trade it all to be the person nobody ever recognized because as a dedicated cheerleader, that wasn’t me either. However it is safe to say that you can’t let your friends define you.
For the average fifteen year-old the first week of high school often entails a mixture of fear and embarrassment. However, for myself and my group of girlfriends, all of whom already had older sisters who were in the high school, the first week of freshman year was invigorating. Who needed parents when we had upperclassmen to drive us to school? I was the only one out of the clique, however, who participated in extracurricular activities--I was a cheerleader, and it had just so happened that I was only one of three freshmen to make the varsity team. Luckily for me then, eating lunch in the freshman/sophomore cafeteria was never even a consideration as I already had seats saved for me by juniors and seniors in the upperclassmen cafeteria; life was swell.
It was obvious that other people, boys and girls both, did not appreciate my posse. We ran with the fast crowd, and the others couldn’t keep up. The boy who was voted “best-looking” his senior year, yea, we were at his house every weekend, and the other boy, who drove the newest, fastest, hottest car that his parents spoiled him with, we rode home with him; and if there was a party, we were there. All of that never really got to my head, however, until it was me who was on the outs.
My mother always said to me, “Two’s company, and three’s a crowd.” I replied mockingly, “And four’s a party!” Did you ever hear the statement, “Mother knows best”? Well my mom should have added that one into her book of quotations to recite to me, because as I learned the hard way, it was true. My mother was nicely trying to inform me that I was the person in the clique who made things crowded. While the other girls in my little group each had an older sister who were best friends, when it came time to hanging out alone they had each other, and well, as my mother said, “Two’s company…”
I started to experience that everything that everyone envied me for, the attractive looking guys, the constant group of girlfriends, wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. What good were one or two good-looking guys when there were five of us to fight over him? I suddenly found as well that my two so-called best friends didn’t appreciate me hanging out with any of the cheerleaders either. My life became controlled; “No, you can’t like him!” and “Why do you want to hang out with her?” I began questioning if this group was really healthy for me.
After removing myself from my own little clique I began to find that I didn’t need them to make me popular and that the majority of my classmates liked me for who I was. Most of my now friends even said that I was more fun to be around when I didn’t associate with “those girls”. Looking from my standpoint now, the outside in, I feel it’s safe to say that maybe I wouldn’t trade it all to be the person nobody ever recognized because as a dedicated cheerleader, that wasn’t me either. However it is safe to say that you can’t let your friends define you.
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Blog 18
Summer. We drive down the parkway and take exit 80. As we go over the bridge we are stopped so a large liner can sneak beneath us. I roll down my window and a smell of salt and fish fills my car. It’s a good smell. Now we continue. As we approach, we creep to avoid an accident with any small critters on two wheels. The streets are always noisy. For the next two months my wardrobe consists of only two small pieces of clothing—top and bottom and my new address is now 34 Ocean Avenue. I quickly trade in my car for something with two wheels, or I prefer to walk. We bake outside all day, but not food, and party all night. During the summer, we’re the city that never sleeps.
Winter. We drive down the parkway and take exit 80. As we go over the bridge there is nothing there to stop us. I neglect to roll down my window this time; although the smell is still present, the warmth is absent. The streets are quiet and dead and now, Ocean Avenue looks blank. I’m not planning on staying. The city that never sleeps is now a ghost town.
Winter. We drive down the parkway and take exit 80. As we go over the bridge there is nothing there to stop us. I neglect to roll down my window this time; although the smell is still present, the warmth is absent. The streets are quiet and dead and now, Ocean Avenue looks blank. I’m not planning on staying. The city that never sleeps is now a ghost town.
Monday, November 9, 2009
Blog #14 Draft Essay 3
His name is Hank. We’ve known each other for the past twenty-one years, which ultimately is my entire life. I can’t remember what it was like the day we met, yet I also can’t remember my life without him. All I know is that I’m not planning on living my life without him; not anytime soon at least.
I like to consider Hank to be extremely cultured. As a child, and even to this day, I’ve had the opportunity to travel to many different places including other countries while being accompanied by Hank. He didn’t necessarily get his own seat on the airplane; most of the time he’d sit comfortably on my lap, however, he has still had the opportunity to travel a lot more than many others.
When I was eight, my parents, younger sister, Hank, and I traveled to the Bahamas, where we stayed at the newly opened Atlantis Hotel and Casino. Although he didn’t join us in visiting the downtown straw market in Nassau, or lay poolside sipping drinks with little umbrellas in them because he couldn’t get wet, I’ll speak for Hank in saying that he was very fortunate to get to stay in the newest, most luxurious hotel on the island!
During the summer of 2007 Hank traveled with our family again, this time to Curacao, an island commonly known as being one of the ABC islands. I even have a picture of Hank sitting on my sister’s bed in our hotel room in my photo album from our family vacation. Earlier that summer he also took a trip with some of my best friends and me to Kissimmee, Florida. My friend’s parents owned a beautiful time share and gave us permission to stay there for the week. Hank and I shared a bedroom with my friend Jess. We even had our own full bathroom! It was beautiful and we were so thankful to be able to vacation there. Although I didn’t bring Hank along with us to the different theme parks in fear that he might get lost, he still had the opportunity to stay with my friends and me in a lavish condo in Florida, located on an elaborate golf course that was too sophisticated for young adults like us.
In addition to being cultured, Hank is also educated. Hank joined me when I moved into my dorm room during the fall of 2006. There, he was introduced to my two roommates and two suitemates. Living away at school was fun and interesting experience for both of us. Although it was a tight squeeze, hank slept with me on our top bunk twin bed every night. He heard all of the scandalous stories my roommates and I would reminisce over from the night before. He would even keep me company in my bed on those cold, rainy days that I would decide that I didn’t want to go to class. Hank watched every season of Desperate Housewives on DVD with my roommates and me and met all of our friends that lived down the hall from us. Like me, Hank has had the opportunity to experience “the college life.”
Ironically, Hank remained nameless until we were about two years-old, mainly because I didn’t talk much until then. Actually, he was named after a friend of mine that had moved after we met at the babysitter’s house. It’s amazing how attached to other people you can be even at the innocent age of two. I began going to the babysitters as a tiny six-month-old when my mom had to return to work from maternity leave. Both my parents were fairly new in their careers and worked under a very demanding schedule. My mom who is an accountant worked for the city of Clifton, which was quite a commute from our house in Piscataway. My dad who is a police officer would often have to work nights as well as overtime due to his rank as a new, young police officer on the department. Therefore, I spent a lot of time at the babysitter’s house, which in reality wasn’t that bad as over the years my babysitter and her family became like a second family to me. It was at the babysitters that I met a young boy named Hank who I had befriended. Looking back I don’t remember much of our friendship. It’s hard to imagine what a friendship at the age of two entails but he must have left quite the impression on me since he is the one who I named my teddy bear after.
I like to consider Hank to be extremely cultured. As a child, and even to this day, I’ve had the opportunity to travel to many different places including other countries while being accompanied by Hank. He didn’t necessarily get his own seat on the airplane; most of the time he’d sit comfortably on my lap, however, he has still had the opportunity to travel a lot more than many others.
When I was eight, my parents, younger sister, Hank, and I traveled to the Bahamas, where we stayed at the newly opened Atlantis Hotel and Casino. Although he didn’t join us in visiting the downtown straw market in Nassau, or lay poolside sipping drinks with little umbrellas in them because he couldn’t get wet, I’ll speak for Hank in saying that he was very fortunate to get to stay in the newest, most luxurious hotel on the island!
During the summer of 2007 Hank traveled with our family again, this time to Curacao, an island commonly known as being one of the ABC islands. I even have a picture of Hank sitting on my sister’s bed in our hotel room in my photo album from our family vacation. Earlier that summer he also took a trip with some of my best friends and me to Kissimmee, Florida. My friend’s parents owned a beautiful time share and gave us permission to stay there for the week. Hank and I shared a bedroom with my friend Jess. We even had our own full bathroom! It was beautiful and we were so thankful to be able to vacation there. Although I didn’t bring Hank along with us to the different theme parks in fear that he might get lost, he still had the opportunity to stay with my friends and me in a lavish condo in Florida, located on an elaborate golf course that was too sophisticated for young adults like us.
In addition to being cultured, Hank is also educated. Hank joined me when I moved into my dorm room during the fall of 2006. There, he was introduced to my two roommates and two suitemates. Living away at school was fun and interesting experience for both of us. Although it was a tight squeeze, hank slept with me on our top bunk twin bed every night. He heard all of the scandalous stories my roommates and I would reminisce over from the night before. He would even keep me company in my bed on those cold, rainy days that I would decide that I didn’t want to go to class. Hank watched every season of Desperate Housewives on DVD with my roommates and me and met all of our friends that lived down the hall from us. Like me, Hank has had the opportunity to experience “the college life.”
Ironically, Hank remained nameless until we were about two years-old, mainly because I didn’t talk much until then. Actually, he was named after a friend of mine that had moved after we met at the babysitter’s house. It’s amazing how attached to other people you can be even at the innocent age of two. I began going to the babysitters as a tiny six-month-old when my mom had to return to work from maternity leave. Both my parents were fairly new in their careers and worked under a very demanding schedule. My mom who is an accountant worked for the city of Clifton, which was quite a commute from our house in Piscataway. My dad who is a police officer would often have to work nights as well as overtime due to his rank as a new, young police officer on the department. Therefore, I spent a lot of time at the babysitter’s house, which in reality wasn’t that bad as over the years my babysitter and her family became like a second family to me. It was at the babysitters that I met a young boy named Hank who I had befriended. Looking back I don’t remember much of our friendship. It’s hard to imagine what a friendship at the age of two entails but he must have left quite the impression on me since he is the one who I named my teddy bear after.
Thursday, November 5, 2009
Blog #13
My proposed focus for my object may sound silly, but I’d really love to write about my childhood teddy bear named Hank. Hank has been part of my life for a very long time and I’d like to discuss why he’s my favorite teddy bear and about all the places I’ve gone that he’s traveled with me to.
Some specific descriptions I may use to develop a focus include when I received Hank, how he got his name, what he looks like, and the big question; will I ever be able to leave Hank behind? My parents sometimes joke because I’m 21 years-old and still take Hank everywhere with my including vacations and they’re curious if when I get married will I take Hank with me into my new home and life.
As the reader I would be curious about where did I get Hank from, and why I haven’t left him in the past. For most children their childhood blanket, or stuffed animal is left in a memory box and never relieved but it’s different for me. I also would be curious about what he looks like, and how he got his name.
Some specific descriptions I may use to develop a focus include when I received Hank, how he got his name, what he looks like, and the big question; will I ever be able to leave Hank behind? My parents sometimes joke because I’m 21 years-old and still take Hank everywhere with my including vacations and they’re curious if when I get married will I take Hank with me into my new home and life.
As the reader I would be curious about where did I get Hank from, and why I haven’t left him in the past. For most children their childhood blanket, or stuffed animal is left in a memory box and never relieved but it’s different for me. I also would be curious about what he looks like, and how he got his name.
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