"ASK ME, UH-HO-HO, ASK ME"

You know what we're overdue in doing? An installation of Guthmantics! And do you know who I rounded up for you today? Do you? Hmmm? You are going to flip! I got The Ms. Laurel Snyder! (Ohhhhs! Ahhhhs!) Not only is she an all-around wonderful human being, but she's also a very talented and dedicated writer. Laurel Snyder is a Baltimore native, a graduate of the Iowa Writers' Workshop, a former Michener-Engle Fellow, a commentator for NPR's All Things Considered, the editor of Half/Life: Jew-ish tales from Interfaith Homes (Soft Skull Press, 2006), and the author of Up and Down the Scratchy Mountains (Random House, 2008), Inside the Slidy Diner (Tricycle Press, 2008), (Any Which Wall, Random House, 2009), Daphne & Jim (Burnside Review Press, 2006), and The Myth of the Simple Machines (No Tell Books, 2007). She is also a hyperactive, type-A person, (in case you couldn't tell). She lives in Atlanta with her ridiculously cute sons, Mose and Lewis, and their papa.

Guth: Tell us what you write, what you have written and how you do it?

Snyder: Oy. I write EVERYTHING. Which is kind of my big problem in life. I'm interested in everything, but I'm also addicted to order, so I'm forever trying to smoosh everything into everything else, in hopes things will begin to make sense. Hence the cover of my book of poems was done by the illustrator of my picture book. And so on... I want things to make sense.

(Guth here-- Um, hi can you see why this woman and I get along so well??)

So yeah, I write poems, and have a chapbook out from Burnside Review Press, as well as this new book with No Tell Books. I write blogs, several of them. I write religion essays and rants. I write commentaries for NPR. And most of all lately, I write weird books for kids. The first one, Up and Down the Scratchy Mountains, will be out next year from Random House.

I really don't have any specific writing rituals-- I'm kind of the anti-Guth in this way (though in all other things I emulate you, dear one). I have two kids under two, and so I write whenever there's a quiet moment, wherever I happen to be. I have a tape recorder in my glove box and a little notebook in my diaper bag. I work in the grocery store parking lot if the kids fall asleep in the car.

Often I rant aimlessly on my blog (because it's quick), and that turns into an essay later. With poems, I sit down and work in fits and starts, and can do it in short stints, but that requires silence and real concentration. And with the kiddie-novels, I work on my laptop, late at night when the house sleeps, or in a coffee shop, while my toddler is in "school" and the little one wiggles on the couch beside me. With long prose I need at least two hours of time to get anything going.

For all but poetry, I like backgound noise, and often leave the TV on when I work. It's always funny when my husband comes in and asks, "Are you watching this?" and it turns out I'm tuned to the Jesus channel, or the View, or Rock of Love (okay, I admit it, I actually watch that one). Usually, I require coffee. Late at night I like to write while I drink. It sounds flaky, but it can lead to interesting things, though also heavy editing.

Guthieroo: Not flaky at all! The booze-n-write is awesome. Ha! I was so hooked on Rock of Love, too! You know what they say: "Ain't no booty like a southside booty"... er, bleh, I mean. Anyway. What grand things are next for you? What would you, we're talking dream gigs and adventures here, love to be next for you?

Snyder: Next for me is a new book of poems called Once Upon, about the tedious and wonderfully insane experience of having kids (I know, I know, it's awful, but I can't help it). And I'm also currently editing a new kid-novel, Any Which Wall. About four children in Iowa and their magical wall, which takes them to like, Pompeii and Camelot (of course-- everyone goes to Camelot). I'm also about to launch an awesome new website, Badly In Love.

What would I like to be next? Oh jeeze, nobody ever admits that stuff, do they?

But if I'm really dreaming? Like, lotto dreaming?

I'd like a major award of course, maybe a National Book Award for a novel, or a Caldecott for my picture book. Of course I'd like a movie option, because that would pay for babysitting. Anyone out there want to make a movie about a snarky milkmaid and her pet prairie dog? I'd looooove if Tim Burton wanted to turn my picture book, Inside the Slidy Diner, into a movie. That'd be the BEST!

I'd also like to write poems that straddle the divide between poets and non-poets. I'd like to write poems that poets can appreciate, but that are readable for non-poets. But sometimes that seems just as far away as a Pulitzer. Sigh...

AG: What Smiths or Morrissey song or lyric sums it up for you right now?

Snyder: Hmmm... it sounds obnoxious to say this, but "Golden Lights". I mean, I never ever expected to have multiple books out at once, and it feels like I'm the luckiest person in the universe. But only the title. Because I really hope I haven't changed. I don't think I have. Have I? I mean, I return all my calls, and I don't even have a brand new jacket...

Guthieroo again. See there? Isn't she great? Yes she is. Now, folks, you know the drill by now, right? After you've read all of her work, (and I mean all of it, because it all all very, very good and so what if you don't have kids? Children's books are good for your soul, just ask me about Patricia Combs' Dorrie series sometime) go over and add her to your LibraryThing and Shelfari and GoodReads collections. Go on, go on. Then, be a mensch and buy a copy or two or ten for your friends and lovers and BFFs and the next time you hear the fabulous Laurel Snyder is reading near you, go show some love.

Want to be a featured author/writer type for Guthmantics? Well, just send an email to me at amy@guthagogo.com and I'll tell you everything you need to know.

"SOMEONE ON YOUR SIDE"

Dude! You know who I think is so great? Laurel Snyder. Know what else? Her book is out and on Amazon and I am about to order the mofo and read the stuffing out of it. I'm so excited to read it! You guys go get a copy, too, and we can have a little tawlk all about it.

"HOW SOON IS NOW?"

I did my hair last night. I wasn't in love with the blue, so I made big pink stripes like I used to have about a year ago. Like this, but not all in one clump. more like tiny pink highlights. Anyway. I woke up last night at like three thinking someone was knocking on my door, and, you know, going back nye-nye when you get a big adrenaline boost is no small feat, so I sat up and petted my cat's nose and played solitaire. Don't be jealous of my sexy, exciting night!

(There is fresh concrete being poured across the street. What should I write once the workers turn their backs??)

Gosh, the weather is beautiful today. It's sunny and 70ish. That is good livin', if you ask me. And, as I type, enjoying said weather, I'm by an open, breezy window, enjoying a cup of Cafe du Monde's chickory coffee and that makes me glad. Well, there is the smell of bacon in the air from the counter of this coffeeshop I write from, but other than that, it's totally peas and carrots.

On my way over, I saw a teensy tiny fender bender, no damage to either truck, but it was between two big burly meat-headdy puff-ups, so they hopped out of their respective giant vehicles and had some words and bumped chests. I mean, for real, they were shouting and being pissy and touched chests and then bounced off each other. The temptation to shout "Kiss him!" as I crossed the street was almost too much. But, really, it's a lovely day and my breezy sunshine and good coffee and writing spree is coming together to make me reeeeeaaaaaaaallllly happy.

I'm really ready for fall. Have I mentioned that a thousand times yet? As wonderfully awesome as this summer has been for me, I've have more uphill than I wanted, so I'm eager to seal it up and move to the next. Come to think of it, I want to say somebody I know has a theory about August, or August and April or even-numbered months feeling more uphill than others. Who said that? What it you, Schwartzy? Laurel? Who was it? Eh, I can't remember. Was it Hyperbole Mel? No, shit, I can't remember. Fuggetit. Speaking of friends, I heard from Mermaidhead this morning, who is mere days away from (a) giving birth to little Neptune (b) getting herself free from bedrest and (c) getting shitfaced at the bris.

"THIS NIGHT HAS OPENED MY EYES"

I started the today on all fours meowing. Sparkypoo, you see, has become a near-neighbor, and asked me to watch her kitties while she was on vacation this week. Well, loving the stuffing out of animals, I, of course, happily accepted. But, her landlord posted signs over the weekend that today, every apartment would be sprayed by the exterminator and all pets should be in a closed bedroom. Skeevy but manageable. No biggie. So, I went over early and found one cat, already in the bedroom, closed the door behind me and set out to find the other. No luck. And, since Sparkypoo just, just moved, there were many cardboard kitty hiding places. So, I'm looking, then I'm on all fours looking and meowing and shaking the food bag, then I'm looking and shaking the food bag and meowing and on the phone with Sparkypoo inquiring about favorite hiding places. I finally found the poor creature hiding out for dear life from the meowing, crazy woman in her house. Both cats, safe from the exterminator. Done.

So, I worked on this and that all day. Went to the supermarket, and with an armful of produce, was told by the manager they've done away with shopping baskets to cut down on theft. What? What's the connection? I don't get it. What did I miss? Whatever. No big whoop, then I went to the gym, and had a really good workout. So nearly compulsive and fear-driven, yes, but people do a whole lot worse out of fear. At least this was productive. I ran the treadmill silly, I crunched and lifted and squatted and curled. I kicked ass and left feeling like a million. Sure, no level of fitness is really going to shield anyone from anything, but it never hurt, that's for sure. (Speaking of running, this article, while it raises a good point, made me a little sad. I don't know if I even want to do another marathon if I'd have to do it without my earbuds on, truth be told.)

And that brings me up to right now. Hello from the bathtub. Yeah, yeah, I know. My laptop isn't falling in. It's safe as can be. And, joke's on you-- I happen to soak in the tub wearing a 1920s-era bathing costume, so no need to let your mind wander too far, my dears. I poured myself a glass of pinot grigio, made a little plate of apples, cheese, strawberries and olives and Calgon is, as they say, taking me the fuck away.



The "How Are Guthie's Nerves?" Test of the Weekend wasn't lost on me. I'm pausing and chillin' and all the things I always mean to do but do not. No way, not me, I'm doing them. I'm not just blogging, I'm blogging in the tub with pinot and snacks and Calgon and all that shit. (Oh, and speaking of blogging, I might be in love with this post my other BFF, Laurel Snyder, posted about blogging. Love her. Isn't she so great?)

Anyhoot, I'm signing off to finish my bath. Take good care.

"ASK ME, UH-HO-HO, ASK ME"

Hey kids! Look! It's another installation of Guthmantics! Oh-la-la! Today's very, very special guest is poet, editor and publisher, Reb Livingston, author of Your Ten Favorite Words (Coconut Books, forthcoming), Pterodactyls Soar Again (Whole Coconut Chapbook Series, 2006) and co-author of Wanton Textiles (No Tell Books, 2006), her work appears in literary magazines and has been nominated for two Pushcart prizes. "That’s Not Butter" appears in The Best American Poetry 2006 (Scribner). She writes an occasional poetry column called “Crucial Rooster” at The Happy Booker. She and Molly Arden edit No Tell Motel, an online poetry journal devoted to meaningful and discreet poetic encounters, and the annual print anthology The Bedside Guide to No Tell Motel. And, Reb is the editor and publisher of No Tell Books and, and, and co-curator of The Burlesque Poetry Hour, a monthly poetry reading series in Washington, D.C.

Diving right in...

Guth: Tell us what you write, what you have written and how you do it? (You guys know I like to ask that because I have such funky and specific writing rituals, myself.)

Reb: Primarily I write poetry. Also I blog and write the occasional goofy poetry column. Two chapbooks came out in 2006, Pterodactyls Soar Again and Wanton Textiles. My first "full-length" collection, Your Ten Favorite Words, will be published this fall from Coconut Books. That book stems from my psychic ability to discern a person's favorite word and use it in a poem.

How does she do it? I'm a little wary of the possible implications of such a question, not that I'm assigning any dubious intentions on your part. Lately I've come across a number of media profiles of supposed "super-moms" and these portrayals tend to be quite disingenuous. Unfair to their subject (from all the disdain generated from the airbrushed presentation) and cruel to the readers (who are working their asses off, yet are made to feel like unambitious losers). But here's my chance to break that vicious cycle. I am the married mother of *one* toddler. My husband is frequently away on travel, but when he's home he's very involved and doesn't expect a statue every time he changes a diaper. He lets me sleep in on the weekends. That alone gives me a better advantage than most. Also I have part-time daycare (two days a week). Yet still, I am completely overwhelmed combining my parent/family responsibilities with my writing and editing my magazine and running my poetry micropress.

So how do I do it? I stay up until 2 or 3 a.m. most nights, have a sloppy house and am forever behind on laundry. I don't prepare elaborate meals, in fact, I rarely cook. When my husband comes home I say "we're going out for dinner God damn it" and off we go. I write poetry late at night. I read submissions, put together galleys, edit manuscripts, blog and work on other projects during my son's nap in the afternoon and in the evening after he goes to bed. When the unexpected happens, the wrench in the schedule -- everything gets backed up, a real mess.

Usually I don't get around to taking a shower until 4 or 5 p.m. This is embarrassing when people show up to the door unannounced.

AG: What grand things are next for you? What would you, we're talking dream gigs and adventures here, love to be next for you?

RL: I have two readings at the end of May, one in Chicago, the other in NYC -- and then I'm off the reading circuit for the summer and will resume with a vengeance in the fall to promote Your Ten Favorite Words. I'll be all over the country hypnotizing people to buy my book.

This summer I'll be spending my time working on five new No Tell Books titles. The first to come out will be The Bedside Guide to No Tell Motel - Second Floor, the follow up anthology to last year's Bedside Guide. The four other titles are single author collections scheduled to be out this fall: Shy Green Fields by Hugh Behm-Steinberg, Harlot by Jill Alexander Essbaum, Blue & Red Roses: Personations by Karl Parker and The Myth of the Simple Machines by Laurel Snyder.

I'd love to finish my next book this year too -- it's a grimoire inspired manuscript currently titled God Damsel. I'd like to be able to design the entire book myself -- inside and cover -- which would require a little design schooling on my part, I'm looking into courses now.

AG: What Smiths or Morrissey song or lyric sums it up for you right now?

RL: "Hairdresser on Fire" would be the obvious choice, but today I'm feeling much more "I Have Forgiven Jesus."

Guth again: Thanks for swinging by, Reb, my dear. I adore you and all you do! Anyway, folks, you know the drill by now, right? After you've read all of her work, add what you can to your LibraryThing and Shelfari collections. Go on, go on. Then, be a mensch and buy a copy or two or ten for your friends and lovers and BFFs and the next time you hear the fabulous Reb Livingston is reading near you, go show some love.

Want to be a featured author/writer type for Guthmantics? Well, just send an email to me at amy@guthagogo.com and I'll tell you everything you need to know.

"GOLDEN LIGHTS"

Stop everything you are doing! Right this minute! Now, go check out this dreamy contest one of my BFFs, the fabulous Laurel Snyder is running! She wants our help in naming a character in one of her wonderful children's books. (Uh, you all, of course, nodded right then because you are familiar with and own her work because it is genius and darling, right? Good.)

Here's what she said about the contest:

I need to NAME a dastardly fellow, a filthy scoundrel, a naughty man from the Wild Wild West, stuck in the 21st century. He's truly rotten-- cruel to animals, mean to kids, and willing to rob banks and kidnap YOU just for the fun of it. He wears a black hat and a long dark coat. He smells funny.

Can you help me???

Of course we can! Let's put on our thinking caps and help a sister out.

Oh, it's so fun! I can't wait to see all the responses! How cool! That Laurel, so full of fun.

Oh, and speaking of booky things, which we usually are here on Bigmouth, check out these rad sheets. I, uh, don't think my Three Fallen Women would make the greatest bedtime story ever, ever, ever on earth, but it's cool anyway. Har.

Why does my living room suddenly smell like fried chicken?