It's All About Promoting Your Book

From The New Yorker —A funny look at book promotion or what you need to do after you finally get your opus published.

A Marketing Plan

Upon Reading a Book...

I
My online writing class ended and Jan wrote me an email: "In addition to revising the other works, do you have any thoughts on where to go from here?"

Francine Prose in her book Reading Like A Writer says, "I learned to write by writing and, by example by reading books."

Prose ends her book with these words: "If we want to write , it makes sense to read--and to read like a writer. If we wanted to grow roses, we would want to visit rose gardens and try to see them the way a rose gardener would."

II

What combines a coming of age story, a surfing story, and a spiritual journey?— Jaimal Yogis’s new book Saltwater Buddha: A Surfer's Quest to Find Zen on the Sea.

“Every surfer is seeking stoke, and every surfing memoir is an attempt to capture in words a feeling that defies description.”

Lynda Hawryluk

Perhaps every serious surfing memoir is a spiritual journey. What intrigues me about this book are the ways Yogis moves seamlessly from the narrative of a young man looking for independence and the release from a life style that is stifling to an individual moving through phases of spiritual discovery.

Yogis creates a close bond with the reader and we too embark on this journey. I stopped often while reading and thought about my own spiritual path. Instead of abstract phrases strewn around the pages, Yogis selects apt quotations to help the uninitiated understand some aspects of Zen. And he writes of real situations where he learns how to live out his spirituality in the world.

When Yogis speaks of his guru, he writes of an impaired man who must rely on caregivers. Jaimal works, for a time, as one of his caregivers.

I am reminded of Pastor Henri Nouwen's life “ Nouwen woke each morning to bathe, dress and feed a man incapable of performing those tasks for himself.” That man, and many others like him, were his gurus.

I wrote down a number of quotations to both slow down my reading and allow me to absorb the words.

“Waves are the practice of water. To speak of waves apart from water or water apart from waves is a delusion.”
— Suzuki Roshi

The descriptions of surfing run the gamut from novice wannabe to accomplished surfer, from occasional surfer to obsessed surfer, from cautious to reckless, to a middle path. Yogis’s descriptions of the surf, his explanations of the formation of waves, and his narratives of surfers feel honest. His excitement is palpable. At times I expected spindrift to wash over the page.

He follows through on the coming of age story by not allowing that thread to disappear. There’s an honesty that is refreshing. He’s a journalist who attained a Masters degree at Columbia University— he’s not opted out, but he still rues the intrusions of some of his assignments.

III
For writers—when you read this book note how Yogis blends his personal memoir with factual material. No jarring interruptions, no stopping —simply inhaling and exhaling.

Read as a writer.

A Fascinating Potpourri

"... a complete archive of the New York Times Writers on Writing column, a series in which writers explore literary themes.

Writers on Writing
I clicked Kent Haruf's name—and read a two page essay.

To See Your Story Clearly, Start by Pulling the Wool Over Your Own Eyes

Kent Haruf

"I write the first draft blindly.

This is not new with me. It's the old notion of blinding yourself so you can see. So you can see differently, I mean. I remove my glasses, pull a stocking cap down over my eyes, and type the first draft single-spaced on the yellow paper in the actual and metaphorical darkness behind my closed eyes, trying to avoid being distracted by syntax or diction or punctuation or grammar or spelling or word choice or anything else that would block the immediate delivery of the story.I write the first draft blindly."

Prompts, Jack, and Lines

by Elizabeth Milligan

"I felt the consecration of its loneliness" - Charlotte Bronte; "I don't know what it means, but the sign is very clear – Watch out for your mouth" – Gabriel Garcia Marquez; "All that road rolling and all those people dreaming in the immensity of it." – Jack Kerouac; "What a strange trip it has been" – Jerry Garcia; "Too bad people change and forget to tell each other...too bad..."— Lillian Hellman


One October day fifteen years ago, I was in our small town's library copying official minutes relating to a controversial local issue. The issue revolved around a man who I felt had been seriously mistreated by our town government. His name was Charlie. At a rangy six feet two, Charlie had faded-but-bright blue eyes, crooked teeth, and a Big Sky smile.

Two months earlier, Charlie had cycled into town where he unintentionally irritated powerful people with his frequent questions about starting a community garden. Now, they were making very public noises about their irritation.
Near the copier, Steve, the Library Director hunched over a desk inside his flimsy glass-and-metal office. At the time, he and I were the only people on the floor. Then, a tall man with short salt and pepper hair and wearing a brown pork pie cap and a quilted tan jacket walked through the doorway and strode quickly across faded industrial carpet to the Director's office. His name was Jack and he clutched a thin white paperback book in his right hand. Steve stood up to greet Jack and the two men exchanged warm words. Jack's voice dropped and because I did not want to appear visible - or at least, not too interested - I picked up only a few of Jack's words - signed copy, blacks, and Civil Rights. Then, he left.

I poked my head into Steve's office, Who was that man? Steve leaned back in his chair, smiled, Oh, that was Jack Mendelsohn. When I was growing up, my parents talked about him a lot at the dinner table... He just donated an autographed copy of his latest book to the library; Being Liberal in an Illiberal Age.

That month, I wrote an opinion article about Charlie and submitted it to the local paper. The editor was not going to run it. With a little coaching from a much larger newspaper, she changed her mind. Her headline was Some Think Man Treated Unfairly at Town Hall. The column ended by stating that Charlie had been committed to a psychiatric ward and declared legally incompetent.

Before Charlie was moved to the state hospital, he told me about his anti-war activities in Boston and Washington. Curious, I asked whether he had ever heard of Jack Mendelsohn. Charlie startled and then exclaimed: Jack Mendelsohn? You mean the Reverend Jack Mendelsohn? Why sure, I was his driver when he headed up the Committee against Political Repression in Boston.

That evening, as I was trimming green beans, watching that a pot of water did not boil over, and moving a pan of four-cheese spaghetti sauce to the stove,the phone rang and my son handed me the receiver. It was Jack. I had not yet met him and I was surprised to hear his voice: Very nice article in the Beacon. Very nice. I would like to pay a visit to Charlie. Do you know how I can contact him?

A few years after his visit with Charlie at the state hospital, Jack and I would try to meet every other week for coffee and talk at a popular bakery a town over. Major topics of conversation were our families, civic affairs, books, my weekly writing assignments, and politics. One day, Jack told me, You know, Ted Sorensen and I used to sit across the table at a coffee house and have the same kind of talks as we are having right now. Judiciously impressed, I moved on to discussing my writing assignment for the week. Often, Jack and I talked about the stories behind my favorite lines.

• Like a lily pad on tepid waters, the waitress sashayed across the restaurant and careened into our table.
• A ten-year old girl hooked her thick eyeglasses over one of the metal spokes on the underside of the beach umbrella.
• My father jumped into the pool fully dressed in his long terry cloth robe, CIA-style black sunglasses, large-brimmed straw hat that looked like a Mexican sombrero with tentacles, and worn black flip flops
• It was a dark and dreary winter night and we had a week to covertly transport the treasure from Cosca across the continent to Trevi.
• On just about their last night between the edges of their bed, Sofia's husband icily articulated for her a remark too horrible to bear repeating.
• Rivulets of red stage make-up dripped down the faces of two women who appeared to be mother and daughter. With fake blood and strips of linen wrapped around their heads, the women held high a sign that read, No Blood For Oil.
• That morning at the coffee house, Jack recalled a decades-old shopping expedition with Louis in a Syrian souk. Mrs. Farrakhan was very fond of beautiful hats and her husband hoped to buy her one.
• This time, she went inside and fixed lunch. She mistook plain black beans for his favorite, black bean soup.

When Jack needed to use a cane we moved our meetings to a coffee shop in town and we continued to talk about our families, civic affairs, books, and politics. He and his wife, Judith, asked me to help him archive his personal papers. So, for one or two hours a week, I would archive with Jack. I would ask questions that helped me decide how to label files and he would tell me stories. In the end, we had twenty-seven large boxes of tightly packed papers. Some are with the Meadville Seminary in Chicago, some with Harvard Divinity School, some at Jack and Judith's home here in town.

• Harry, the birds are out for their exercise; please hold the cat.
• With brisk hand gestures and words like shards of ice, Stella's mother told her Not right now, I have eleven guests arriving and I have to see them.
• Gingerly, cupping the tiny corpse in his latex-gloved hands, he wrapped a rag from the basement –the mourning shroud- around its stiff body.
• That morning in County Kent, somewhere north of the English Channel, the sun peeked over the ancient emerald hills threaded with a single dirt lane and, as if on cue, their VW Bug's radio trumpeted Here Comes the Sun.
• Silence like a kinked rope
• Henry's incredible good looks and charming personality belied his problem.
• This time the tight thin lips turned up slightly at the corners. For just a nanosecond – a shimmering of lime green space – the four of them breathed together.
• Where life's seductive dust and noise are relegated to a sane perspective.
• Like all Jews living in Budapest in 1945, my parents had been rounded up by the Nazis and shot.
• How can you be in the same room as a fire-eater and not ask how he eats fire?
• After the Marines played Taps and my children cried, my friends from the House of Peace in Ipswich prayed and my friends from the Japanese Buddhist colony in Leverett drummed, chanted, and burned incense on my grave. Although I knew I could not make up for the horrors of WWII, I did what I could.

Last year, Jack gave up his driver's license. Now, I bring coffee and lunch for two and a jelly-filled donut to his home every week or so and we continue to talk about politics, family, civic life, books, and my weekly writing assignments.

• In the evening late in Spring, the scent of cherry blossoms mingled with the hot fragrant steam from red beans, rice, steak, and plantains which wafted across the park from the Brazilians' open kitchen windows.
• Some will always operate completely in white space/More will merely trail their fingers in it/Most will never leave the outlines.
• It had rained everyday for the past thirty days in El Progresso.
• The canary yellow streamer is for Billie; satin jazz laced with blues, sprinkled with gardenias and cocaine.
• Silences like spaces between the drips from a faucet.
• Draped in red flags, she teetered on a precipice.

On the eve of California's 1968 Democratic State Convention, Jack addressed the delegates: People who say 'Don't let's get into politics', are in effect saying 'Don't let's get into the world.' This world is political.

Is it any wonder that one of my favorite quotes and one of Jack's favorite quotes are both from Robert Frost?

In three words, I can sum up everything I have learned about life: it goes on and

Forgive me O Lord my little jokes on thee and I will forgive thy great big one on me.

Elizabeth Milligan ©2009

Poetry Feeds The Soul

Poets know the economy of a word and the power of a word.
When I read or listen to a poem, I hear the way a poem breathes—its melody.

Poetry Foundation's Walking Tours

More on writers and their Habits...

Narrative just posted an interesting essay about writing —and process— as well as the tools of the trade.

Narrative

We've always been curious about the process of writing.

"The first known examples of writing may have been unearthed at an archaeological dig in Pakistan. So-called 'plant-like' and 'trident-shaped' markings have been found on fragments of pottery dating back 5500 years. "
BBC 1999

Earliest writing' found in China
By Paul Rincon
BBC Science
Thursday, 17 April, 2003

"Signs carved into 8,600-year-old tortoise shells found in China may be the earliest written words, say archaeologists.

The symbols were laid down in the late Stone Age, or Neolithic Age.

They predate the earliest recorded writings from Mesopotamia - in what is now Iraq - by more than 2,000 years."

"But the discovery has already generated controversy, with one leading researcher in the field branding it "an anomaly".

On Rejection

I covered a small metal wastebasket with rejection slips. Sorry, but this material does not fit our current needs. I did omit the caustic replies and included the encouraging notes written as marginalia —on the form rejection letters..

Two coats of Mod Podge decoupage paste assured me of a basket able to sustain years of use and assuaged my desire to snip the letters into confetti sized pieces and return to sender. I rather like the basket and view it as a mature response!

Here's a rejection story— from Shenandoah magazine:
On Rejection
by Bret Anthony Johnston

Do you have a rejection story? Do send it in for posting.

Where do You Write?

Tom Cahill has travelled all over the world—but he often retreats to a cabin in Montana to write.

The Wall Street Journal's article is a close up look at Cahill.

"It's often hilarious to me that I'm writing about Tonga or some tropical place and there's a blizzard outside and the cows are on their backs with their hooves in the air," said Mr. Cahill, a founding editor of Outside magazine and author of nine books..."

A Montana Cabin

Where do You write?

Following Up—

Keeping up with the book theme.

In Friday's Wall Street Journal Cynthia Crossen's listed five of her favorite book blogs.

I checked them out—three out of five feel—simpatico.

A Commonplace Blog written by D. G. Myers , "A critic and literary historian at Texas A&M University..."

I skipped around his blog and found a link to review of A Life Beyond Repair: Jerzy Kosinski A Biography
by D.G. Meyers ( at yet another blog)

Years ago I read The Painted Bird by Kosinski, and believed that it was the authentic tale of his life. Segments of the book remain embedded in my mind because of the stark brutality. The book became a cult favorite—a harrowing tale of one child's nightmare during the holocaust. The story, as he wrote it, was fabricated.

Then I visited Marks in the Margin written by Richard Katzev. He chose his blog's name because of his love for literature and his penchant for taking notes, writing down quotations, and "... memorable passages in the books and periodicals" he reads.

Years ago my next door neighbor Anna, introduced me to the art of the Commonplace Book. Once I started I, too, became addicted to making passages from books my own by writing them down—longhand—in a small notebook. I'm now using a Fabriano Quadrato Artist's Journal as my Commonplace Book.

I'm reading Olive Kitteridge by Elizabeth Strout and wrote down this line… "He wanted to put his arms around her, but she had a darkness that seemed to stand besides her like an acquaintance that would not go away."

The most recent posting in Marks in the Margin—a review of Mentors, Muses, and Writers: 30 writers on the people who changed their lives edited by Elizabeth Benedict. Thirty writers speak of people or books that led them to writing.

I followed up on that review by reading an essay by Benedict about the book: Elizabeth Benedict talks about her book

Stephanie starts her November 13th blog with these words:" I’m feeling a little tongue-tied, or would that be finger-tied? today since this blog managed to make it into the book pages of the Wall Street Journal. To Ms. Crossen I send my thanks for her kind words, and to all of you new visitors I say welcome!":
So Many Books

I note that Mentors, Muses, and Writers: 30 writers on the people who changed their lives is on her In Progress List.
In one of her blogs she refers to a "rather snobby" essay by Edith Wharton titled A Vice of Reading

She invites the viewer to "Read the essay when you have a free 15-20 minutes. I’m pretty sure Wharton meant every word, but part of me wonders if she isn’t writing tongue in cheek. Your thoughts and opinions welcome."

For those who like "book" quotations she keeps a list of "Bookish Quotes"

I'm also a keeper of writer/reader quotations. Whenever I find myself eavesdropping I think of these words:

The writer should never be ashamed of staring. There is nothing that does not require his( her) attention.
—Flannery O'Connor

Book Ends

by Cathy Labath

How many a man has dated a new era in his life from the reading of a book. – Henry David Thoreau

*
Beware the man of one book – Saint Thomas Aquinas

On March 15, 2009 I bought a Kindle electronic book reader and since then I have read only one book. Before the Kindle I used to read, on average, one book every two weeks. I love to read books. I hate to read books on my Kindle.

*

Where is human nature so weak as in the bookstore? – Henry Ward Beecher

For me reading a book starts with the selection of a book – the foreplay. I used to love to spend hours at the bookstore running my finger along the spines of the books until I found one that I chose to examine more closely. Then I would carefully remove it from the shelf, caress the first few pages and for a few minutes become intimate with the author. And then I would take the book home to devour completely.

I don't like selecting books to read via computer. The Kindle leaves me cold.

I was shopping for birthday presents for the granddaughters the other day at Target and aimed my cart directly for the book aisle. I started to enter, tore myself away with a reminder to self that I had a Kindle, felt a little depressed, entered, and bought a couple of books as birthday presents, my cravings satisfied. The granddaughters don't have a Kindle.

Regretfully I passed up the last library book sale. That was as difficult for me as passing by a tray of chocolate toffee from Lagomarcino's – the local confectionery.

(I must admit I recently bought some books at the thrift store telling myself they were going to turn into altered books).

*

To be a book-collector is to combine the worst characteristics of a dope fiend with those of a miser. – Robertson Davies

My baby sister was an alcoholic. She went to so many counselors that she finally decided to become one herself. Of course she now feels compelled to offer unsolicited advice to her older sister – me.

"You know, you have an addictive personality too."

"How so?"

"You use books to escape."


Either I now have nothing to escape from or the Kindle cures book addictions. Now I don't read paper books. I don't read electronic books.

When I took the granddaughters to the library the other day I checked out some quilting books because they don't come in Kindle form. I felt a little guilty when I did so – like I was cheating on my Kindle. Maybe I am addicted?

*

I would be the most content if my children grew up to be the kind of people who think decorating consists mostly of building enough bookshelves. – Anna Quindlen

Our house is full of books. There is not a room which doesn't contain a bookcase or a stack or two of books – cookbooks, how- to books, books on coin collecting, astronomy, Irish history, gardening, genealogy, quilting, old college textbooks, philosophy and psychology books, Encyclopaedia Brittanica, mysteries, true crime and children's books.

My uncle used to keep his clothes on the back of a chair in his bedroom. In his closet he had bookshelves. When I visited in the summer I couldn't wait to grab a book from one of his shelves and sit out on the lawn on an old quilt with a glass of grandma's freshly squeezed lemonade and read. I want my grandchildren to have that experience when they come to visit. Instead they will probably ask to borrow my Kindle and drink some type of energy booster while seated in an easy chair.

I am wondering now what, besides dust and a Kindle, will appear on my bookshelves.

*

Most new books are forgotten within a year, especially by those who borrow them. – Evan Esar

I used to receive shipments of hardback books a couple of times a year from one of my sisters in California and a sister-in-law in Texas. We all read mysteries by the same authors. They both had to read them when they were first released. I would then get shipped their hand-me-downs. After I read the books I would loan them to someone else or give them to the Friends of the Library for their sales.

Now there is no more sharing, no more giving, no more lending. The three of us have Kindles!

*

Just the knowledge that a good book is awaiting one at the end of a long day makes that day happier. – Kathleen Norris

I'm Information Technology Officer for ten medical labs. As the title implies, I work with technology 10 hours a day, four days a week- computers, automated instruments, interfaces, networks, routers, electronic medical records. The mind reels at how quickly technology changes; is out-dated. The mind grows weary dealing with users who don't understand new or old technology. At the end of the day I don't want technology. I don't want to read an electronic book on a Kindle. I want to curl up on the couch under an afghan with a cup of tea, and a good book. I want to be able to hold a handmade bookmark or easily peek at the ending of a book to see if my favorite character lives on. I want to be able to dog-ear a page with a quote I like or stick a post-it-note on a page that needs further research.

John Naisbitt summed it all up in High Tech/High Touch : "The two biggest markets in the United States are consumer technology and escape from consumer technology."

I do need to escape!

*

I think it is good that books still exist, but they do make me sleepy.- Frank Zappa

If you have the habit of falling asleep in bed while reading, be forewarned that a Kindle hurts far more than a book when it hits your face. I suppose it's something I will have to get used to someday when I start reading again.


Addendum

1. I rarely buy anything for myself. If I do, my self imposed rule is that it must be necessary or prove itself useful. I don't buy for myself on a whim.

2. I convinced myself a Kindle was necessary because I spend too much money on books - with one trip to a bookstore I could easily spend more than the cost of a Kindle. (Of course books are necessary because they keep me sane- see high tech/high touch, means of escape, addiction). I have to cut down on spending because I want to retire in about seven years.

3. I don't waste. I'm cheap. I'm stubborn. Can't throw it away and buy books. I convinced myself I needed a Kindle.

Cathy Labath ©2009

Addicted to Books

Read All Day

by Nina

For one year I gave into an addiction and found the world. My addiction is gloriously satisfying, the ingested substance is easily found and cheap to obtain, and the results are undeniable, without limit, and available to anyone who can read. My addiction is books, my year was spent reading and writing about 365 books — one every single day — and I am happier, smarter, kinder, and more at peace with life now than I was before I began this year of surrender to books. The best part of this story is that the world of pleasure and joy and knowledge that I found is available to anyone who can pick up a book and take some time to start reading it. I am not a professor of comparative literature or a writer of novels; I am not a journalist or even a blogger, although I post my reviews online on www.readallday.org. I read because I love to read – and reading has loved me right back.

Before starting my project of reading and writing, I was feeling lost and disconnected as a middle-aged ex-working mother who had opted out and couldn't get back. I was an un-botoxed, Goodwill-jeans wearing, and lonely rebel uncomfortable in the gilded surroundings of my upscale town. When my oldest sister was diagnosed with bile duct cancer and died four months later, a center piling of my world's construction collapsed and I fell into a funk of sorrow, insecurity, and anger. I wanted my living – being alive —to mean something. If my sister was dead, I had to be twice as alive to make the universe balanced again.

All I have ever really liked to do is read. And so I decided that was it, I would read one book a day for one year. But not only would I read, I would write about each book, I would offer my response to what the author had offered. I would write to find the wisdom, the comfort, the pleasure, and the joy that I knew I would find in books. A lifetime of reading had led me to know without doubt or question —it was one thing that I knew for certain — that great books allow escape from the pain inside while forging a connection with ideas, people, and places from the outside.

This year of reading and writing has been amazing, difficult, inspiring, surprising, and completely fulfilling. I have read great books and learned so much about life, death, love, sex, kids, friends, and the connections that fuel all of it. I have discovered that there are no taboos in discussing books – anything goes! — and by discussing these big issues through the medium of books, so much can be achieved, both personally and as a community. The popularity of book groups is due to the cathartic nature of the discussions. No book discussion can be successful without an investment of the personal: when we talk about books, we talk about ourselves, and when we talk about ourselves and listen to others, we learn a hell of a lot about everything.

Postscript from Nina’s blog:

I posted my last review of my 47th year. What an incredible year it has been! From October 28, 2008 through October 28, 2009—

Next project? I will also keep reviewing two to three books a week here on Read All Day and I am writing a book blog for the Huffington Post.

I am very, very excited about my project with HarperStudio (division of HarperCollins), to write a book about the power and pleasures of books. I started the year with a motto of "great good comes from great books" and I have the year behind me now to prove it.

Nina Sankovitch ©2009

Dublin Literary Award

"The International IMPAC Dublin Literary Award is the largest and most international prize of its kind.

It involves libraries from all corners of the globe, and is open to books written in any language.

The Award, an initiative of Dublin City Council, is a partnership between Dublin City Council, the Municipal Government of Dublin City, and IMPAC, a productivity improvement company which operates in over 50 countries. .

The Award is administered by Dublin City Public Libraries."
Dublin Award

The complete list of books nominated for the 2010 award.
Nominations—from 163 libraries in 123 cities and 43 countries worldwide.
Nominated Books for 2010 Dublin Literary award

Love Arcane Words—

or even some that aren't unusual.

Check out this blog Wordnik

This post came about because Jan wrote about a nudnik on her blog: Through One Eye and reading her words made me think of a wordnik.

When I googled that word I came across the Wordnik blog. The word for the day was harl.

There's a definitions and a photo —as an aid to understanding, I expect.

I don't think I'd have an occasion to use many of these words in my writing, but the blog makes me aware of the delights of language.

Perhaps I'll write something and use the word terpsichorean.

Six Word Contests

Read All About It—

Six Word Story About a Significant Object

You will find a photo of the object and instructions on how to post your entry.

The contest closes November 6th! That does give you today and tomorrow— and it's only six words.

If that deadline is too close here's another six word contest:

Six-Words—Digital Life

"SMITH Magazine and PBS FRONTLINE/Digital Nation want to hear your stories about life in the digital age. In six words, tell us how the web and digital technology are changing how you think, work, live, or love. Has something you've posted online come back to haunt you? "
Frontline Digital Nation


The contest deadline has been extended to January

Frontline Blog
Frontline Digital Nation Blog

And: I encourage you to follow Word Collage. You can do so by signing up for email notification — whenever there is a new posting.Google translate will allow you to read the posts in your native language.

Something to Read

Sent in by Jan
"Assume you've seen this NPR book link and page?"
 
"Welcome to the first issue of What We're Reading."
NPR Books

So You Missed the start of Novel Writing Month...

You didn't plan early enough—
besides thirty days to write a 175 page novel seemed too arduous—
And there was a huge word count!

But there's still time to join something.

" Script Frenzy is an international writing event in which participants take on the challenge of writing 100 pages of scripted material in the month of April."

What: "100 pages of original scripted material in 30 days. (Screenplays, stage plays, TV shows, short films, and graphic novels are all welcome.)"

Check it out at—

Script Frenzy

Let us know if you're up to the challenge.

Writing in Coffee Houses

"I wrote one whole book at a specific Starbucks, and I started the next book and couldn't write there, so I found a different Starbucks."
— Allison Brennon


Where do you write? In bed, like Walker Percy, Edith Wharton, Collette, Proust, James Joyce, Mark Twain...and me (at African Rainbow Resort)? Check out this site—Riehl Life—and an interesting essay.

Listen to an interview with the the author of A Writer's Desk

I like to write in coffee houses—or on the third floor of one particular library. One place is noisy and the other quiet. One place I can indulge my coffee habit and the other I sneak sips of water from a bottle in my rucksack.

Point of View

Sometimes I think the most arduous task is deciding who will tell the story. I'm in the midst of writing a short story and opted, initially, for third person, but now I think it's really better as a first person story.

Not all first person stories are the same.

An interesting article from Literary Lab on the varieties of the first person story.

First person Point of View

When you are writing a memoir or creative non-fiction there are snares—pitfalls.

"Peering at Privacy in Creative Nonfiction" AWP
—Kaylene Johnson
Kaylene Johnson

Poets

Poet and the Poem Podcasts
"Ms. Cavalieri created the original "Poet and the Poem" series on public radio in 1977, and in 1997, "The Poet and the Poem from the Library of Congress" became an outgrowth of that show. Approximately ten episodes from the Library of Congress series are produced each season, and a number of these are being added to this site."

And continue on to Grace Cavalleri to read interviews with poets.

And then continue on to Poet Vision Webcasts to listen to more poets.