Literary Goon here. As many of you know, I’m currently transitioning to teaching writing full-time. For the last three years I’ve been working for the Booming Ground program out of the University of British Columbia, but after April 30 I will no longer be accepting new students. Instead, I’m starting my own business.
A number of my former students have expressed interest in working with me again, but currently I don’t have a full enough roster to make it through the summer with this as my sole employment. So until the end of May I’m offering an introductory special. That means $50 off any of the options below, except for the manuscript evaluation, which I’m knocking down to $900.
To be clear: If you pay now, that doesn’t necessarily mean you have to start right away. It just means that ultimately your mentorship will be cheaper.
Here are my 2014 rates:
#1. Fixed term mentorship ($150 / $300)
This is either a 3 or 6-month mentorship in the same format as Booming Ground. Students will submit work approximately once a month, and will receive detailed written feedback, writing exercises and reading recommendations.
#2. Mentorship by submission ($50 / submission)
This is great for a student with a particular piece that needs a second pair of eyes. I will respond with detailed written notes. Word count limit: 15,000
#3. Manuscript evaluation ($500)
This is a report written about a full-length book, with notes, reading recommendations and suggestions throughout. Word count limit: 100,000 words.
#4. Manuscript mentorship ($1000)
This is for students who aspire to publishing a full-length book. $1000 gets you three rounds of edits, over whatever timeline you’re comfortable with. I have one student who has been working with me on a novel for over two years now.
Also, students may elect to send me a partially completed manuscript, and I will help them work to complete it.Thank you everyone for your support. These mentorships will help my family through the summer while I work on my two novel manuscripts Sea to Sky and Whatever you’re on, I want some.
Even if you don’t have anything to work on with me, I would appreciate it if you forwarded this email or mentioned me to your friends and family. Also, I’d like to draw your attention to the latest incarnation of Literary Goon:
Thanks for taking the time to read this. I appreciate your support,
Will Johnson (Literary Goon)
I visited the area at the border of Chiapas, Mexico, and Guatemala, which is where we have the earliest physical evidence for the human use of caffeine, more than 3,000 years ago.
the one thing no one — literally nobody, nowhere — has mentioned about the “problem with / death of music writing” thing
(Under a cut, because I wouldn’t want to read even more about this shit either if I were you. Summary: It’s the
Applies to a lot more than music writing. Just sayin’.
He left the Circuito Interior and pulled into a gas station where he bought a gallon of gasoline in a plastic jug.
He drove for another minute and then stopped the red car on Pedro Antonio de los Santos, directly in front of the Juanacatlán station. He splashed the gasoline all over the car’s interior. Elisa waited in the VW a hundred yards farther on. Héctor got out of the car, took a piece of rope left over from the trussing of the subway cop, soaked it in gasoline, and stuck one end into the car’s gas tank. It made a perfect fuse. This done, Héctor lit a cigarette, then touched his lighter to the end of the rope. He barely had time to run ten feet. The flame leaped the length of the gas-soaked rope, and two seconds later the street was rocked by the explosion, the car consumed in a tremendous fireball. Héctor was thrown forward by a burst of superheated air filled with bits of burning debris. He raced down the block and jumped into his sister’s car.
"You’re such an extremist, Héctor. What’d you do, soak the whole thing in gasoline?”
"I don’t want to hear it. I almost blew myself up. Can we get out of here?"
Behind them, the burning car was drawing a crowd in front of the station entrance. Elisa pulled into the street.
"What’d you do that for?"
"To let them know that this is for real."
"That what’s for real?"
"The war between the association of independent detectives and the forces of evil."
"What’s the association of independendent detectives?"
"Me. I’ve had to kill three men in the last two days."
Elisa looked at him without speaking. Héctor stretched out in the car seat and let his head fall back.
"Let’s get something to eat," he said.
DIY explosions are as common a feature of Paco Ignacio Taibo II’s detective novels as soda pop and Gerry Mulligan records. This passage is from No Happy Ending, translated by William I. Neuman.
Write like mad. Write as much as possible. Have fun, too, and be patient with your prose and consider the merits of every word. Cultivate your obsessions. Don’t be fooled into rehashing borrowed ideas – do your own thing. Send your stories out to the literary journals when you think they are ready and keep all your rejection letters. Celebrate with your writer friends when you or they are published, then get back to writing your own stuff.
He was becoming quite a talker. He preferred his old style, the taciturn and enigmatic Belascoarán Shayne. The other face of the clueless, uneasy, perennially surprised Belascoarán Shayne. The public face. Because, when all is said and done, a man is a hunter after images. After his own image. Sometimes he’s successful in the hunt and he comes up with something consistent, warm, something close to reality. Other times he spends all night pursuing an illusion, clinging to shadows. And sometimes the shadow turns around and comes after him, and everything goes to hell. His only chance for survival was to accept the chaos and become one with it. Take yourself lightly, but take the city seriously, the city, that inscrutable porcupine bristling with quills and soft wrinkles. Shit, he was in love with Mexico City. Another impossible love on his list.
from No Happy Ending by Paco Ignacio Taibo II, translated by William I. Neuman