On Tuesday, November 30th, the Rumpus Book Club had about fifty people, including at least a dozen of the Rumpus Women authors, online at once. The discussions, which in real-time roared over each other with heedless enthusiasm, were like a wildly tossed and delicious salad. For your sanity, we present a limited selection of the ingredients to you here, in their proper bowls. To taste the full smorgasbord, you can view the unedited conversation here.
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- Rumpus Women, Vol I: The Book, The Structure, The Call
- Poetry, Nonfiction & Fiction
- But Is It True?
- Gender and the “November Problem”
- “Dear Sugar #48: Write Like a Motherfucker”
- But Is It Depressing?
- “Have a Beautiful Corpse,” Or a Three-Way
- How Rumpus Women Affected The Rumpus Book Club
- Volume 2?
- Next Projects for the Rumpus Women Authors
Rumpus Women, Vol I: The Book, The Structure, The Call
Stephen Elliott: Maybe we can start with Julie and Elissa talking a little about how they put this book together.
Elissa Bassist: Well, it started when we were topless.
Jenna: As all good literary movements begin. Topless, of course.
Georges: Can Elissa and Julie talk a little about author selection and how you framed the idea of the book? Were instructions given? Did anyone decline to participate?
Julie: We started with people who’d published on the Rumpus, whose work we knew.
Elissa Bassist: Julie and I wrote a list of our favorite writers. We thought about who touched our hearts and minds and souls. Stephen and Cheryl and others provided the email addresses.
Stephen Elliott: What did you guys think of the order of the essays?
Sonia: I liked the order of the essays! It reminded me of a good mix tape, where every song leads effortlessly into the next.
Julie: Sonia, thank you! That’s a hugely important part of the structure of the book. We got very lucky with the submissions. They really spoke to each other.
Elissa Bassist: Julie is responsible for the table of contents
Julie: Elissa is being modest.
Elissa Bassist: Elissa is being honest.
Survey!
Is Elissa being modest?
Yes (22%)
No (6%)
It’s a ruse! (72%)
Julie: I did the first round, but we did revise and deeply discuss the order.
Sugar: I’m always interested in essay order. You two did a great job.
Antonia: The structure of the essays was brilliant on many levels. “At Large” begins in childhood, the genesis of identity.
Rayme: How did you find essays that “twinned” so well together (broken ankle into broken ankle, for example)?
Julie: Luck, Rayme. Seriously. But placing them next to each other was choice. And that worked out for several essays.
Mandy: I agree with Sonia. LOVED the placement of the essays.
Julie: Thanks Mandy!
Jenna: I liked the essays for themselves, but I kept reading them in order to figure out the reason for their placement. Awesome and seamless job.
Steve: I was amazed that the essays lent themselves to pairing and tripling like they did.
Eileen: It may be a certain amount of luck in what essays came in, but it took a fine editorial eye to put them together in such a way that they flowed one from the other.
Cheryl Strayed: I loved that we didn’t have to have a theme. Writers have been sold this line of crap about how everything has to be connected to the next thing. What’s wrong with a simple gathering of really good stories or essays—or, god forbid, BOTH. I loved that Julie, Elissa and Stephen had the guts to just put a book of quality writing out there.
Michelle Orange: I agree about appreciating the openness of the call Elissa and Julie put out—it seemed really risky and therefore potentially pretty great.
Eileen: What a fabulous collection of essays. Camille, I loved how your piece unfolded.
Julie: The end of Camille’s piece just about killed me. I loved it so much. Every pregnant woman should be transported on a hand-held litter, injury or no.
Camille D.: Thank you, Eileen and Julie. The end of that journey (the hike and the writing about the hike) was the easiest part of it all. The beginning was the part that just about killed me.
Steve: I think Camille’s essay was my favorite in the book, although there were several close contenders.
Camille D.: Steve, now I’m blushing.
Rayme: Camille—I really enjoyed your essay. I think because it was partially about race and I feel like race is one of the last taboos out there. Everyone is so *careful* and your honesty and the reactions of the group you were with were funny. I also love to hike (in the true, not Mark Sanford sense) and that also drew me to your piece.
Camille D.: Thanks, Rayme. That essay was the sort of thing that just had to be written. There were so many threads weaving together as I made my way down that mountain, and it was profound in a way that I don’t often experience in life. All that stuff was just raw and right out there to interrogate, and so, rather than just letting the experience of it pass, which might have happened if I’d just left the experience to dinner party chatter, I had to write the essay.
Stephen Elliott: When poets write prose it’s always good.
Elissa Bassist: Stephen, when you introduced me to Nick Flynn on the street in Brooklyn, he told me most poets are nonfiction writers and most nonfiction writers are poets. I didn’t believe him until I edited this book.
Jami Attenberg: I had a professor in college who told me all fiction writers are failed poets, thus convincing me to change my major.
Camille D.: That’s interesting, Elissa. That nonfiction/poet thing. I think I do very different things when I write poetry than prose. When I write nonfiction there is something I need to tell you. When I write poetry there is something I need to find out. Different sorts of journeys.
Antonia: Beautifully said, Camille.
Cheryl Strayed: Well, there are lots of fiction and nonfiction writers too. Like, tons. (Raising hand.)
Stephen Elliott: Poets are already invested in the words. Some fiction writers are too, but not all of them.
Elissa Bassist: Wow, Camille. I think when I write nonfiction (which is the only way I know how to write), I feel there is something I need to tell and something I need to find out.
Padma: Camille, beautiful. So you figure things out in a different order? Or is the originating impulse different, and causes you to choose your form?
Antonia: I think nonfiction is harder. It has to move like fiction but it has to be more naked and risky.
Sugar: Writing is always a search for me, whether I write fiction or nonfiction—including the columns. I never start those columns knowing what I’m going to say. I find it along the way.
Nell: I agree with Sugar. I never know where I am going. I guess that’s why I write, sort of. I think there’s a James Thurber quote about that somewhere.
Padma: And I agree that for me, all writing has to do with figuring something out. I often know the question at the start. And have a fair idea that it is fundamentally unanswerable.
Survey!
Writing is:
A quest (14%)
A way to avoid doing the dishes (5%)
Art and identity (24%)
Necessary (24%)
Isaac’s drinking during book club discussion (33%)
Camille D.: Padma, the originating impulse is different. I really wanted to talk about race and gender and pregnancy and the great outdoors, so I wrote an essay. If I’d tried to do that in a poem I’d end up saying something like: “blink, blink, butterfly/the wind whips from the south.”
Steve: Too much alliteration in that first line, Camille…
Camille D.: Well, I’d revise, of course, Steve. That’s what good readers are for. They help you see when you over alliterate. When you aren’t taking risks and venturing into the unknown.
Padma: Ah, great, Camille! Do you ever figure something out in a poem and then go from there to talk about it non-fiction?
Camille D.: Padma, I don’t know that I’d thought about it discreetly like that. I know there’s interaction, but don’t know that it’s directly correlative or causal.
Padma: Thanks, Camille. Just such a provocative comment, vis-a-vis process.
Eileen: Justine, your piece caused a discussion about whether or not the essays were true or not.
Elissa Bassist: Eileen, we questioned the “truth” of each essay on various levels: fact, emotional truth, dramatization, play with form. I would call my piece 80% true.
Sugar: My piece was true! 100%, unless you count the byline.
Jami Attenberg: My piece was totally true. Sad, but true.
Elissa Bassist: My letter to Sugar was true in the moment.
Justine: It’s caused a ruckus with one of my brothers, who likes to think he’s a hero who saved the day, and has selective memory. It’s essentially true – 6 years of chronic homelessness.
Antonia: Mine was true, but I got fired for it.
Julie: Mine was also true, except the names were changed to protect the innocent.
Stephen Elliott: True in the moment is true.
Camille D.: Mine was true, too, Sugar.
Jami Attenberg: Emotional truth is true.
Cheryl Strayed: That’s interesting, Justine. Sorry about the ruckus, but that can be good sometimes. Healing, in a way.
Antonia: Names were not changed until the 24th hour in my case, another problem and reason why I was fired or “escorted off the premises” in New Orleans.
Jami Attenberg: I must admit I have always wanted to be escorted off the premises of somewhere.
Sugar: Are we going to go down the “truth in memoir” tube? It’s a dark place that leads to the center of the earth.
Guest: OMG Sugar is here.
Cheryl Strayed: I didn’t know about that, Antonia. Impressive!
Stephen Elliott: I didn’t know you were fired Antonia.
SarahG: Antonia, that must have been traumatic. Wow. The things we do for our art……!
Jennifer: Why exactly did they fire you? What reason did they give?
Elissa Bassist: Antonia, would you feel comfortable telling that story here? I know it’s a battle you’re intent on exploring and winning…
Antonia: I would have never thought my manager would read my stuff, but it got too close. I wanted his permission to interview the 2 security guards for RSW so there were emails exchanged. Emails between myself and the 2 fascinating creatures who pack guns in East New Orleans. They had great stories. It took me a long time (and many mosquito bites) to gain their trust. One of them forwarded my questions or maybe their answers and at the bottom of my emails are links to articles that are alive and kicking. I showed up at 10pm with my friend Romy to photograph and we were escorted off the premises. Told to never come back. Rick had read about himself on Word Riot. I made him out to be a douche bag, which he was. He was pissed. I don’t blame him. It’s a big problem.
Jennifer: Wow. Wow to Antonia, I should say.
Eileen: Antonia, your portrayal of community was fascinating.
Camille D.: It’s funny how the truths you see in the world as you write it strike the readers who were also co-participants differently than you might think. Turns out the guy who freaked out about my crawling through the woods really liked that I called him “Chip, the next largest man in our group.”
Rayme: Question to Justine: Why is your personal essay in first person, but with a different name? I kept thinking maybe this was fiction.
Justine: Rayme, yeah, I should have used my name. It all happened so fast….
Gender and the “November Problem”
Georges: We [on the TRBC email group] talked a little about the role of authorial gender and the “November problem.” Would you have preferred to have more time to get out more polished product or was it more important to do a selection by female authors?
Stephen Elliott: Good question.
Sugar: Great question, Georges.
Julie: Georges, I think it was more about filling an opportunity that happened to center on gender. Both Elissa and I were excited about the challenge and the deadline—we knew we had access to high-quality writing, and we wanted to take the opportunity to get it out there. We didn’t feel we were compromising quality to focus on gender, in other words…
Josh: I just want to comment on the gender topic. I’m sort of in the middle of gender, but as a guy (I identify as a male), I didn’t have a problem connecting to these pieces. I actually cried during a few of the pieces. I loved that aspect about the collection.
Julie: Josh that’s awesome. Thank you!
DavidG: I gave the book to my sister. She told me she’s reading it instead of schoolwork.
“Dear Sugar #48: Write Like a Motherfucker”
Jenna: Had any of the pieces already been published on the Rumpus? I thought Sugar’s piece (amazing!) had been.
Stephen Elliott: Sugar’s piece and also Elissa’s piece were both published on The Rumpus.
Elissa Bassist: I wrote to Sugar for the book. Julie and I wanted to ask Sugar a question, a sparkly new question, and while editing the book, I had a burning one. We decided to publish it on The Rumpus first because we felt uncomfortable going a week without Sugar.
Sugar: Yes, my piece was published on The Rumpus, Jenna, and that was by design. Julie and Elissa had such a tight deadline—and I have such a busy life—that I told them I could only write a piece for the book if it could also double as a column. Elissa sent me her question—it’s the only one that I’ve answered that wasn’t sent by an anonymous person the regular way—and I wrote the answer. It all happened very fast, within a week or less.
Stephen Elliott: That’s our motto now, taken from Sugar’s response. We made mugs and t-shirts out of it.
Padma: That was inspired: the Sugar-Elissa exchange. I loved it on the Rumpus. And have ordered mugs. For everyone in my life.
Elissa Bassist: Mugs and t-shirts out of my cry for help…
SarahG: I love it.
Antonia: I loved Elissa and Sugar’s additions. The response was epic.
KimG: I made the title into my computer desktop wallpaper.
Jennifer: I love the Sugar/Elissa piece. I read it like ten times on The Rumpus and then again of course in the book. And sometimes I just read it for sanity.
Nell: I read it for sanity too!
Antonia: I need that T-shirt.
Sugar: I don’t have a mug yet. Stephen?
Stephen Elliott: They haven’t arrived, actually.
Cheryl Strayed: I wear my Sugar shirt all the time!
Padma: I thought you were going to tell Sugar she didn’t need coffee.
Stephen Elliott: Ha.
Sugar: Hah! I drink exactly one large mug of French press coffee each morning. Then it’s on to herbal tea.
Antonia: I suck strong coffee sludge all day long and then wonder why I cannot sleep.
Neal: I have to say that Sugar is probably the first author in one of these chats that I have been totally in awe of.
Sugar: Now I’m blushing, Neal. Thanks.
Josh: Neal, I’m in awe of all of them. But, I did promise to freak out about sugar. I think I said like a 12 year-old at a BSB concert.
Eileen: Sugar’s response made me want to put my hands on either side of her face and kiss her on the forehead. What a wise and beautiful benediction—it’s true about writing, but it’s also true about anything worth doing in life.
Sugar: Thank you, Eileen. I love kisses on the forehead.
Antonia: Sugar, I should send you my essay in Black Clock where I think about my mother while having sex with a couple for cash when I am supposed to be at a catering job.
Sugar: Motherfucker is one of my favorite words. I try to apply it to everything.
Elissa Bassist: Writing to Sugar was a transformative experience! I was so frustrated and sad and hopeless when I wrote to her, and after she wrote back, I was healed—like completely healed. I’m still mostly a mess, but I got to the other side of a feeling we must all face (which I only now know after the outpouring of response and support after “Write Like a Motherfucker” was published). I suggest any writer do this when she/he cannot write: write to your personal “Dear Sugar” about how you cannot write. Suddenly, you’ll find yourself writing. And healing.
Stephen Elliott: When I’m a mess sometimes I call Sugar.
Eileen: We all need a Sugar in our lives.
Jami Attenberg: My essay got rejected from other places for being depressing.
Elissa Bassist: Jami, speaking to that: I was worried the book had too many “depressing” essays. Julie and I had heated discussions about this issue.
Padma: I noticed that: depressions and depressing. Not counting French de-pressing. What did you all make of that, curatorially or otherwise?
Jenna: The collection didn’t strike me as too depressing; achingly true and painful. Gorgeous.
Antonia: I don’t think the essays were depressing, but then that leads to a discussion about the intolerance of strong emotions in our culture.
Cheryl Strayed: I don’t believe in “depressing” writing. I love writing that gets to the real heart of the matter. There is beauty in our darkest places. True, that.
Jennifer: Well said, Cheryl. After I read your piece in Rumpus Women I read “The Love of My Life” in the Sun – amazing and beautiful.
Cheryl Strayed: Thanks, Jennifer! Now there’s an example of a so-called “depressing” essay, but if you look closely, it’s all light.
Antonia: Not enough writing takes big emotional risks. Or awkward, sexual risks.
Jami Attenberg: For me the best part of seeing this essay published was being so happy that I wasn’t that person anymore.
Eileen: There was lots of strong emotion in the pieces, but I didn’t think they were depressing.
Antonia: I agree with what people are saying above.
SarahG: I didn’t think there were too many depressing essays. I thought the experiences were all varied and interesting—“depressing” didn’t really come to mind.
DavidG: Not depressing, although I occasionally looked up and asked myself if I was going to cry…
Camille D.: It seems that a lot of us are speaking in our essays about the importance of truth telling, of confronting realities that are often painful and, well, stemming from things that are broken.
Jami Attenberg: Well listen, a mainstream women’s mag found my essay depressing. they are serving a specific audience.
Julie: Depression is underrated.
Josh: I didn’t think they were depressing. Emotional, yes, but not depressing. Sad, heartfelt, tremendously brave.
SarahG: Julie, I think your essay was one of the more depressing, but it was also my fave.
Antonia: Yes, I wanted to say that I was floored by “The Fall of Strangers.” I read it 5 times. From the beginning I knew that woman was in deep trouble and I loved her and I loved her trouble.
Justine: What Antonia said.
Julie: Sarah, thank you. Thanks, Antonia! It definitely dealt with depression, but I don’t think that’s a bad thing at all. And Justine—thx!
Camille D.: Well, Cheryl, I tend to believe that the ones who aren’t in touch with the darkness can’t possibly be in touch with the light. A simulacrum of light, perhaps, but not the real true searing thing.
Caitlin: Cheryl, I like what you say about beauty in the darkest parts of ourselves. I read another essay of yours after reading your RW one – the one about your mother – and I felt like I had been turned inside out after I was done.
Cheryl Strayed: Thank you, Caitlin. I so appreciate that.
Josh: Julie: I can’t tell you how much I connected with your piece. It was…I cried for hours. I wrote for hours. It inspired me, it broke me, it…I can’t even explain it.
Padma: True confessions: I have only read minority of the essays, but at least several of them touched on the experience of depression, our own and others. That doesn’t mean they were depressing. Or maybe they were momentarily, and leavening in other moments, which is why they were effective. Yes, “The Fall of Strangers” was tremendous. I’m going to read it again later tonight, maybe aloud.
Julie: Josh, thank you thank you.
Georges: “Fall of Strangers” was…profound.
Julie: Guys, you are killing me. I was so worried about it… Thank you.
Elissa Bassist: I think what strikes me most is the Julie Writer/Julie Editor synthesis. She wanted to make a book about honesty. She did that as an editor, and she gave of herself as a writer while doing so. It was spectacular to witness and move with her through.
Julie: Elissa, as your editorial wife, I just want to say I love you.
Antonia: Susan Sontag: “What is important now is to recover our senses. We must learn how to see more, to hear more, to feel more.”
Neal: Antonia, I’ve really enjoyed the honesty in your writing, both in the collection and on the Rumpus site. How do you get the courage to do that time after time?
Antonia: Thanks Neal. I don’t know.
Georges: This collection has inspired strangely poetic g-chats
Josh: Georges, that is truth! It also inspired the connections series of posts.
Julie: Your poem was the best thing ever, Georges.
Jenna: I missed the poem Georges; how does everyone know about it?
Georges: oh. no – probably no one other than the two people who read my blog know about it. But here it is if you are interested: http://gaijen.blogspot.com/2010/11/strangely-poetic-g-chat.html
Julie: Yes, Georges, your blog was really moving to me—beyond the beautiful poem. I’m reading The Midnight Disease right now, and loving how the author embraces her sorrow—it’s just so beautiful. Not depressing at all.
SarahG: I read that! Great book.
Alison: The Midnight Disease is one of my favorite books, I think I already said that on a comment on an article posted here.
KimG: Julie, I just checked out The Midnight Disease from the library!
Julie: Gide: “I took to telling the story of my suffering, and if the phrase were very beautiful I was so much consoled, I even sometimes forgot my sadness in uttering it.” (as quoted in Midnight Disease)
“Have a Beautiful Corpse,” Or a Three-Way
Antonia: Michelle Orange’s essay made me gasp more than once.
Julie: Antonia, me too! I read it at 35,000 feet and thought I’d gone to heaven.
Michelle Orange: Thank you Antonia! And hello!
Jenna: I loved Michelle Orange’s essay!
Josh: There is a tremendous amount of love going around right now.
Jenna: Oh, Michelle. I loved your essay. I have cornered several people and made them read it.
Elissa Bassist: I called Julie after I read Michelle Orange’s piece and told her I was shaking, crying, and laughing all at once. I needed an editor/friend intervention after reading that piece.
Neal: Yeah, Michelle’s essay was one of my favorites. James Dean, John Lennon, and Michael Jackson – you can’t beat that.
Antonia: Michelle, you made me wanna have a three-way with Kurt Cobain and Susan Sontag.
Stephen Elliott: I would be part of that three-way, just ‘cause.
Michelle Orange: You’d have to wrestle me out of the bed first, Steve.
Stephen Elliott: Michelle, that’s my dream.
Michelle Orange: And thank you, Jenna, Julie, Elissa, Neal! Geez, can we do this every night?
Jenna: A rumpus orgy seems inevitable at this point.
Antonia: Especially having seen her in church with that gorgeous light.
Antonia: I’m not done marinating in Michelle Orange’s essay. What inspired you, if you’re out there, Michelle to write this essay that stings like, “The death of a thousand cuts?” and where can I find more?
Michelle Orange: Antonia, I was casting about for something to write about for my now defunct Rumpus column around the time that Michael Jackson died, but it took a while and several re-thinkings for it to come together as a longer (i.e. probably too long for the Internet) essay. It’s all stuff I love to think about, and—as others have talked about here—I started writing to figure out why that might be.
Jenna: One of the things I love the most about the Rumpus is how unapologetically people gush about reading; I loved the part in your essay Michelle where you wondered if kids get obsessed anymore. I don’t think they do, and it makes me sad. I also loved your inclusion of your fourth grade card.
How Rumpus Women Affected The Rumpus Book Club
Josh: Actually, this collection opened up TRBC in a very emotional, raw way. We’ve all become closer because of it. The intensity with which we were all able to share after we read this collection…it was amazing
Julie: Josh that’s so cool!
Stephen Elliott: There were great discussions among the Rumpus Book Club email discussion group.
Michelle Orange: Tell us more, Josh!
Josh: More: http://irunfrombears.com/tagged/connection I should mention that not all of the posts have been posted yet, more to come.
Padma: Ah, so TRBC has already had a discussion on the book? Fascinating…. Yes, tell more. Were there camps, for instance? I think that this is the first time you’ve taken on a book with multiple authors, is that right?
Eileen: The emotional openness and honesty of the collection encouraged all of us to be more forthcoming.
Elissa Bassist: Eileen, I have goosebumps.
Stephen Elliott: Not all of the book club belongs to the email discussion group. There’s a lot of emails that go on. It’s not for everyone.
Camille D.: Tell us more Stephen!
Stephen Elliott: When you join book club you’re invited to join the email discussion group.
Neal: Yeah, Stephen, it can get pretty intense but its one of my favorite things about TRBC. It’s become a real community.
Stephen Elliott: The discussion group goes way deeper into the book. But it’s not for everyone.
Antonia: I didn’t know it was so profound and involved. Now I want to spy on that group.
Josh: The discussion group…We’ve all become good friends. It’s become more of a life discussion group, not just a book club discussion group.
Represent!
This is my
First book club discussion (32%)
Second (12%)
Third (0%)
Fourth (28%)
Fifth (12%)
More… (16%)
Sugar: So let’s talk about the Rumpus Women: Volume 1. Perhaps it’s hard to get into as a chat discussion, since there are so many different authors.
SarahG: Is there going to be a volume 2?
Stephen Elliott: That depends on Julie and Elissa, Sarah.
Elissa Bassist: The hope is that we’ll keep writing…the hope is that there will be a Volume 100.
Georges: Yes – a Vol. 2!
Sugar: Elissa, have you learned nothing from Sugar? You will do more than keep writing, sweet pea. You will be writing like a MOTHERFUCKER.
Isaac Fitzgerald: Yes, Writing Like a Motherfucker! *ahem*
Elissa Bassist: When I said “we,” I meant “women”; I meant “people.” This feels like the beginning of continuing a tradition of spotlighting women’s voices and experiences.
Georges: If there is a Vol. 2, will you go with writers you know/publish on the Rumpus, or open it up via submission style?
Julie: I like the idea of opening it up. Maybe a volume 2 would be an inroad for new Rumpus writers, instead of the other way around.
Julie: There were people in this collection who hadn’t published on the rumpus before.
Cheryl Strayed: Right, Julie. I had never published on The Rumpus (and still haven’t), but I have a Rumpus at the center of my heart.
Next Projects for Rumpus Women Authors
Stephen Elliott: Hey, can some of the authors mention some of the projects you’re currently working on?
Elissa Bassist: Thanks to Sugar (no shit), I’m working on two books.
Jennifer: Can you tell us about them, Elissa?
Elissa Bassist: I actually just wrote, “I’m working on two books,” so that it will become real. Right now, I’m thinking about two books and just writing like a motherfucker everyday—like I was told to do.
Sugar: You’re welcome, Elissa.
Antonia: Sugar makes me cry every week. I’m happy you’re working on two books Elissa. Sharpen your sabre.
Jami Attenberg: I have a paperback coming out in January of my book The Melting Season. Thanks for asking, Stephen!
Elissa Bassist: Tell us more!
Stephen Elliott: That’s exciting!
Nell: I’m working on a follow-up essay to the one in the book. It’s about women and women writers and anger and ovaries and stuff like that.
Jami Attenberg: Oh and I just finished a novel about Midwestern Jews. I’m gonna try and sell it in January. Fingers crossed.
Rachel: I’m working on a fake craft book called “The Word Writer’s Guide to Writing Words,” formerly entitled “Some Really Disgusting Essays About Love.” Um…yeah.
Cheryl Strayed: My memoir WILD will be out from Knopf in March 2012. It’s forever away and that kills me, but I just got the final edits in the bag. I’m very excited about a) the book coming out and b) writing other things.
Sonia: Congrats on upcoming/completed work, everyone.
Sugar: I’m working on a top-secret project.
Antonia: Congratulations! I’m working hard on my memoir about the sex industry, loss and getting arrested for prostitution.
Elissa Bassist: Rachel, you’re a Funny Woman!
Rachel: Did you just call me a woman?
Cheryl Strayed: Rachel, I read your work years ago when I was a judge or a reader for something. I loved your work then and I still do now. You were one of my top picks. I can’t recall what it was for. Anyway, just thought you’d like to know.
Rachel: Cheryl, thanks. I’ve heard a lot about you from Margaret MacInnis and other writers around town in Iowa City. “The Love of My Life” is on my must read list.
Padma: Your books all sound amazing! I’m writing a novel about the emotional fallout of an Air India plane-bombing 25 years ago, and have put non-fiction (personal essays under the rubric “Notes on Failure”) and every other kind of writing on hold for it.
Justine: I’m writing about a friend of mine who died when he was 39, Philip Perelson, a brilliant, charismatic a poet who spent much of his childhood in placement. Jami, I want to read your book too.
Jenna: I have added all of your upcoming works to me must read list, Rumpus Women. I am looking forward to reading more of all of your stuff in the future.
****
Eileen: Thanks to everyone who participated and extra thanks to Stephen and Isaac.
Stephen Elliott: Extra thanks to Elissa and Julie for doing all the work.
Isaac Fitzgerald: Amen.
Elissa Bassist: Thank you for thanking us.
Julie: Thanks you guys. It really was our pleasure.
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This discussion was edited by Rumpus Senior Literary Editor and Rumpus Women co-editor (not to mention all around hottie) Julie Greicius.
