The Weekly Atticus (03/24/2018)

Once Imagined, Now Real | The Weekly Atticus

A recap of the week at Atticus Review, along with some extras.

Dear ,

It’s been some time since I have written anything I would call “writing.”And yet, as someone others consider a “writer,” I am often asked, “What are you working on?”I do have an answer to this question. In fact, what “I am working on” is a book others might even like to read were it actually a book. It’s not. It’s a 256-note Evernote notebook, 14 google docs, and 5 notes on my IPhone. Notes to self. That’s all I got. Whenever I pitch this imagined project to my well-meaning family members or friends, many of whom are enthusiastic about it, I think of Maggie Nelson’s line in the beginning of Bluets:“On my cv it says that I am currently working on a book about the color blue,” she writes. “I have been saying this for years without writing a word.”The sad writerly truth about the thing I am working on is that I am no farther along in the writing of the thing than I was when I first scribbled the idea down in a journal—now seven journals ago—in October 2016.Or am I?Law of Attraction gurus advise you to visualize the end goal as a means to arriving at it. There are scientific studies and quantum physics theories that back up the efficacy of this practice, indicating that the brain sees no difference between the thought of a thing and a real thing. Is it possible that every time someone asks “what are you working on?” and I answer them, that I am in fact closer and closer to the thing itself, simply as a result of believing the thing will be a real thing someday, and saying so?Some would call that reasoning naive. But think of all the things we must believe in before they actually exist: a new job, a new baby, a new apartment, a new love. It’s the believing in the thing that comes first. Certainly, intention requires action, and an imagined book with no words written will never become a real book. So, of course, we must do the thing all the craft essays say to do: sit down and write. But how about trying this Law of Attraction-inspired experiment first? Just for kicks? Close your eyes, imagine yourself in a cute independent bookstore somewhere—let’s say Ann Patchett’s shop in Nashville—sitting behind a cloth-covered folding table. There’s a line of shy, smiling strangers facing you. They’re there to see you. To buy your book or to tell you how much they already love it. How it’s changed them. How they see themselves in your narrator. Your book is no longer an imagined thing, but a real thing. A thing that has touched someone. Can you see it? Can you feel the feelings? Be with those feelings for a bit. Open your eyes now, and write.Then let the words sit...like dough. Let them rise into something you can knead, something you can play with, something someone else will someday devour.After you’ve done all that, take some time to find inspiration in the once-imagined, now-real writings of others in this week’s Weekly Atticus. And when your “next thing” is complete, send it over to us to read.Thanks for reading. We’re glad you’re here.

Jen MaidenbergChief Strategy Officer/Columns Editor

EDITORIAL NOTE:Atticus Review will be taking a publishing break until April 16th. Submissions will be closed for the next three weeks. See you when we return!

POETRY CONTEST UPDATE

We're very pleased to announce the 2018 Atticus Review Winter Poetry Contest winners: Danielle Weeks, Jane Medved, Emily Rose Cole, Darla Himeles, Ian C Williams, Chrissy Martin, and Robin Myers.Thank you to all who entered and thank you to the contest judge, Aimee Nezhukumatathil!We will be publishing the winning entries beginning the week of April 16th. after we return from a short publishing break.READ ON

THIS WEEK AT ATTICUS

FERAL TOWN by Adam Gustavson

FICTION: FLYING PURPLE PEOPLE EATER: 1958by Sarah Freligh"My dad says, Susan, this is Mrs. Dunlap.She says, You’re so big, honey, in a way I don’t like at all.My dad doesn’t call her Mrs. Dunlap. He says Mattie and looks right at her eyes."READ ON

POETRY: SARDINESby Marcia LeBeau"She can’t find the knife.She has looked everywhere.She begins to feel uneasy.to thank her."READ ON

CNF: A THING THAT SHOULD BE BEAUTIFULby Erin Slaughter"I was named for roots and nostalgia, a country whose tongue is knife and earth. My sister’s name is bread broken and given, first my father’s and then my mother’s. Body and blood."READ ON

MIXED MEDIA: STANDARD TIME A videopoem by Hanna Slak, Lena Reinhold, and Daniela Seel.READ ON

FILM: A QUEER FILM THAT ESCAPES THE GENRE OF DESPAIRA review of Greg Berlanti's LOVE, SIMON. Reviewed by Allyson Larcom"Love, Simon captures the nuance of a teen coming-out experience without turning it into a tragedy." READ ON

ATTICUS COMMUNITY NEWS

Not one but TWO of our Editors are finalists in the Short Stories category of

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