Word Spaces (6): Tony O’Neill
Tony only hangs with the best.
This week we are quite lucky to have the badass, recent Giant object-of-affection, Tony O’Neill. Tony is the author of several books including most recently DOWN AND OUT ON MURDER MILE, who took some time to share with us not only the place where his books get made, but also how he was led by Buddha to meet another, perhaps even larger, holy man.
Classic Word Spaces 2: Chekhov’s Desk
I did a search for Chekhov’s desk and the above image was what came up.
There it is, everyone. Chekhov’s desk. As we all know, Chekhov was a physician. Thus, Chekhov cared about the health of his wrists. He wanted to be able to write without pain. This explains his use of a tilt-y desk, I’m guessing.
Remember those kneeling chairs everyone bought during the ’80s? You might not realize this, but in addition to inventing the modern short story, Chekhov also invented those. That’s why so many writers use them. They are good for your back and they also inspire you to write powerfully observed short fiction that limns the human condition in subtle, masterful ways.
Here’s a picture of someone using one. It may or may not be author Cynthia Ozick*:
* Disclaimer: This is probably not Cynthia Ozick.
Classic Word Spaces: Leo Tolstoy
That’s Tolstoy’s desk. I’m not sure where he put his laptop, though. Maybe on top of the blotter. He probably moved all the stuff and put his laptop on the blotter.
He probably also had wi-fi and didn’t have to plug it into his DSL line.
Also—is that a tongue depressor in the cup? Why did he keep a tongue depressor in a pen cup on his writing desk? Do you think he was always pulling out a mirror and checking his uvula for swelling?
Word Spaces(5): Kim Chinquee
Kim Chinquee is the author of Oh Baby, a collection of short shorts from Ravenna Press. She has won a Pushcart Prize. Her work has appeared in various places, online and in print: 3:am, Caketrain, Conjunctions, elimae, Fiction, Hobart, Keyhole, NOON, Phoebe, Post Road, Sleepingfish, Willow Springs, etc. She teaches at Buffalo State College. It is cold up there, I imagine. Probably snowy also.
I had to include Phoebe in that list, as that’s how I first really saw her work up close, if that makes sense. I emailed with Kim after accepting a handful of her short short pieces for an issue. I was (and still am) impressed with the precision of her writing. The stories in the collection are tiny and wonderful. So, if you happen to miss out on the giveaway, you really should click over to Ravenna Press and order a copy of her book all the same.
Here’s what Kim has to say about her new office, which she just moved into last year upon arriving in Buffalo:
This is my home office, a corner of my studio apartment, and I took this photo after moving to Buffalo in August. It’s a little different now, more “moved in,” so to speak, with papers and tablets and books and the drawers are sometimes open, and I’ve been working on a laptop.
The window looks down into a courtyard, that was pretty colorful in August. Now, mostly snow, and it’s really nice when the sun is
shining. I’m on the fourth floor. The bookshelf belongs to my son, who didn’t think he could fit it in his dorm room back in college, and some of the books are his: books on drawing, guitar, and lots of classics. On the top shelves, I’ve included books by my teachers and friends and favorite writers and journals. Some CDs, mostly classical: Ravel, Chopin and Mozart, though I don’t listen to music while writing, only when I’m sending out work, responding to an email. One of the paintings I made as an undergrad rests on top of the bookshelf, but only because I don’t have the heart to throw it out, and I don’t know where else to put it.A framed picture of my son sits by my computer, a recent photo from his high school graduation.
The desk is new for me, but a very old desk, from a generous
colleague. We both left Michigan at the same time; she moved to Boston, and didn’t have the space. I did, and didn’t have a desk of my own. It’s huge. It’s heavy. It’s ancient and holds everything.I spend the majority of my time at this desk. It’s the first place I
go when I wake up, though I do most of my writing late into the night. The chair is pretty comfortable, though I never sit in it the way I’m supposed to. I sometimes prop my feet up on a stool underneath the desk. Or I curl up, sitting at odd angles, like right now, as I write this.
Thanks, Kim, for sharing, and thanks, everyone, for reading.
And now, another book giveaway; I asked Kim if she would like to send a free copy of her book to a lucky HTMLGIANT reader, and she agreed. So you have until, let’s say, noon CST tomorrow (1.22.09) to email us your mailing address; subject line of the email should be OH BABY. If you’ve already won something, maybe step out of this one, thanks. I’ll let you know if the random integer generator smiled upon you. Send to htmlgiant [at] gmail [dot] com.
UPDATE: Congratulations to Evelyn Hampton, winner of the Oh Baby giveaway. Thank you to the other people who entered the contest – one day your time will come.
Word Spaces: All-stars
Here’s an alternative take on Word Spaces, where instead of asking writers about their work space, I simply google “[name of writer] desk” and write about the images I found. I do this because I prefer not to interface with actual people.
AMY TAN’S DESK
I’m getting some ‘major Asian vibes’ here. She’s got Indonesian-type textiles on both her windows and body, and some effigy island-man lamp. She probably just got some big smile email from an executive at Lifetime who wants to adapt one of her books — daunting for the dog no doubt, who just might end up on the menu at the film’s reception, if the Asians have their way. (I’m allowed to make Asian jokes.)
MILAN KUNDERA’S DESK
From the looks of him, he should have called his book “The Unbearable Heaviness of Being Czech-French.” I’m the last guy you’d call a nationalist, but I seriously think there’s something wrong with Europeans. I know he was pro-communist but really Milan, does your lamp, folder and white-out have to be red? And who even uses white-out anyway? I don’t know, I think he’s sniffin’.
Word Spaces(4): Laura van den Berg
I met Laura van den Berg at AWP one year. She had written something nice on a rejection note to me after I sent something to Redivider a while ago, and so I tracked her down and said hello. Since then we’ve been in touch, seen each other around, though she’s a bit busier than I – she’s on staff at Ploughshares, Memorious, and West Branch, and she has a book of stories called What the World Will Look Like When All the Water Leaves Us forthcoming from Dzanc this November. A recent story of hers can be read online at the Boston Review site.
Anyhow, I thought it would be interesting to see where she gets her work done (and then somehow exactly recreate it in my own apartment).
Here’s what Laura has to say:
My workspace is in the kitchen of a house in North Carolina, where I’ve been living with my boyfriend since September. My computer is set up on the kitchen/dining table, near a kind of big bay window. I love windows. I have wanted all my writing life to have a workspace with lots of windows. Since our town, Blowing Rock, is up in the mountains, there’s crazy fog sometimes—fog so thick I can’t see the shapes of the trees or the car in the driveway. It’s beautiful and eerie and I love it.
On the wall behind my chair, I’ve taped up postcards, pictures, Obama paraphernalia, and a map of Boston, where I used to live. On one side of my computer, there’s a basket that my brother brought back from Morocco, a mug/pen holder, a picture, and shoeboxes, which I’m using to store random office supplies. On the other side, I have phones, my planner, and a box of notecards that say “I only have a kitchen because it came with the house.” To the right of my chair, there’s a little table, where I keep some books—right now, it’s Amy Hempel, Joy Williams, Alice Munro, Diane Williams, Kyle Minor, Deb Olin Unferth, Allison Amend. Also: lit mags; a photo book of Borneo, where I was going to set a novel; my notebook; a story I’m revising; a box of cards from the Met; a newspaper article on Darwin and Russell Wallace; Poets & Writers; another shoebox full of office supplies. The Joy Williams book I have here—The Quick and the Dead—is one of my favorite books of all times. Sometimes I open to a random page and read a paragraph and I’m always floored. Page 155, for example: “The television was on again. A startled bull with a ring through its immense nostrils stood in a river. Piranha swirled about. The bull turned gray like a block of chalk, then transparent, and then it was a skeleton, floating away.”
A set of headphones are nearby, in the basket, since I usually listen to music while working. I have somewhat schizophrenic taste in music—lately it’s been New Order, Postal Service, Sam Phillips, Jane’s Addiction, and David Bowie. My desk can be a little schizophrenic too—especially now, since I’m still unpacking from a long trip and have lots of little things that I don’t have good places for. There’s a lot of stacking going on. Pretty soon, we’re going to have to think about eating dinner elsewhere.
Thanks, Laura, for sharing.
Word Spaces(3): Jason Ockert
Jason Ockert is the author of Rabbit Punches, a collection of stories from Low Fidelity Press. Jason Ockert also edits the fiction at Waccamaw. I met him this past summer at Sewanee and he was awesome enough to share with us his word space.
And here’s what he had to say about it:
Just a map of the world. Outside, trees. That phone never rings. I got that chair at a garage sale in Syracuse and am under the impression it is worth something because after I bought it for twenty bucks the lady reconsidered and then tried to buy it back from me.
(A word about the new desk: The old desk, which had no nails and you put together like Lincoln Logs, collapsed. My knees often got caught up in the bastard. So, Staples.)
The computer is all stripped down. No internet. Not even solitare. If I can be I will be, distracted. I stare at the wall. Trees. I can find countries, man.
Thanks Jason, for the pic and paragraphs.
Word Spaces(2): Kevin Wilson
Kevin Wilson writes about things like dead sisters and screaming babies and sexual relationships between cousins. He also has published a few entries from his series ‘Tommy Explained,’ one of which you can see at the new Lamination Colony. I don’t want you to think that’s all he writes about, though, so visit his website or his blog. Also, you should know this: Kevin Wilson has a book coming out. It’s called Tunneling to the Center of the Earth. I bet it’s going to be funny.
Kevin was kind enough to send us a pic and a few words for today.
Okay, above is a picture of Kevin Wilson’s word space. Here’s what he had to say about it:
When our son, Griffith Fodder-wing Wilson, was born in January, he took my study. There was little debate about the matter. The baby needed a room. I had not considered the situation, our tiny cabin and where we would store our kid, before we decided to have a baby. I should have thought about it a little more.
So my dad (who is the most capable person I know and loves, Jesus Christ, loves to use his wet saw and nail gun and his esoteric knowledge of wiring) and I turned the unfinished basement into a study where I could hide for a few hours and get some work done. It’s also where I keep my comic books and figurines. Oh, and I keep my regular books down here as well. I have a desk, but sitting at the desk feels like I’m still at my 9 to 5 job, so I sit on the floor and write with the computer in my lap. I keep the space heater running no matter the season because I have terrible circulation and get cold easily. There’s a view of the pond, and stray cats like to lounge on the porch. There was a bat but I sprayed enough tea tree oil in the rafters that I either killed him or he got the message and left.
I felt very disconnected from the space for a few months. I could hear my wife and baby overhead, which made me feel like I’d died and they were learning to live without me. I kept finding cave crickets in the corners of the room. The baby kept us up most nights and so I found myself falling asleep on the floor, an hour having passed, no writing accomplished. The near-constant presence of the bat was, frankly, unsettling. The baby had kicked me out of my house. I was in the basement. What the fuck had happened?
Word Spaces (1): David Gianatasio
Today we’re kicking off a new feature at the Giant, WORD SPACES, which will consist of authors talking about where they work when they are writing and how the space affects their work, etc.
To kick it off we have David Gianatasio, the author of MIND GAMES, just out from Word Riot Press. (also the author of SWIFT KICKS from So New Media). He is a longtime fixture in online and independent lit and a really good guy.
Here is a piece from the book at Alice Blue Review.
And here is where David writes:
David's writing area, cozy.
My workspace is a small hallway — the entryway, really — of my apartment. It’s a very nice apartment — you can’t really see how nice it is from the picture/s. The hallway is the most cluttered & cramped area by far.
Why write in a hallway? Well, that’s where I keep the computer. It’s a laptop with a WiFi card so I could write anyplace in the apartment. But then I wouldn’t be in the hallway. You see what I mean.
The computer’s on an old bar filled with old VHS tapes I never watch. I’ll stick my hand in and pull one out at random. Godzilla vs. The Thing. Classic.
Maybe it’s symbolic. The entryway to my home holding the doors of perception, the gateway to other times & places, unlocking the secrets of soul & mind.
I was really reaching there. Sorry. Next film … Columbo: Prescription Murder. In Columbo, they showed you whodunnit in the opening scene. I always found that reassuring.
The smoke and carbon detectors are right above my head when I work. More than once, they’ve gone off in a shrill and nerve-shredding fashion, causing me to squeal like a girl and stand up suddenly, knocking my computer to the floor. Also when my wife comes home, she opens the door and knocks me off my chair.
There’s a photo of me as a 7 year old to the right of the computer, above the printer. Sometimes, when I’ve written something really good (like my new book, MIND GAMES from Word Riot Press!) or remembered my login for PayPal, I turn to that picture and say: “Way to go, little guy!”
I should probably stop doing that.
I’m going to reach in for one last tape …
I was hoping it was a Barney the Dinosaur (I know there’s one in there), or something racy so I could say: “Whoa, that’s a naughty one!” But in fact I pulled out a blank unused cassette. Empty … waiting for content. Will it ever reach its potential?
Given the theme of this piece, I think that says it all.
And really, how do you even know for sure there are tapes in these? Maybe I use it to store cheese. And if I do … well … I should probably stop doing that.
Look out for more of this feature with some really awesome people coming up, hopefully weekly for Wednesdays…