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Seven Questions Before Seven Minutes // Michael Henry Harris

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May 032013
 

1. If you could go head-to-head with any writer, living or dead, who would it be and why?

W. Somerset Maugham so I could yell, “I’m going to kick your ass Maugham,” and everyone would be shocked. But Mom and I, we would know. Yes we would. Cause we’re good like that.

2. WRITE CLUB’s ruthlessly enforced 7-minute time limit: pitiless mockery, or unendurable cascade of anguish?

unendurable cascade of anguish.

3. What works, literary or otherwise, are you currently sharpening your teeth on?

World War Z. I’m moving through with zombie like slowness.

4. You’re contending in WRITE CLUB, you must be pretty awesome. Give a shout-out to someone who contributed to your awesomeness:

Mom. Not Maugham.

5. What handheld weapon would your writing be, were you to wield it in a street fight? (Against the powers of evil, of course.)

The Flail!!!

6. Hey, literary fisticuffer, why’d you choose your charity?

Sick kids break my fucking heart.

7. You are standing over your vanquished opponent. What do you say?

Let’s get a drink.

Extra Credit Question: Take your best guess at the source (or sources) of Viceroy Nick Tecosky’s neuroses.

Agent Orange

Seven Questions Before Seven Minutes // Clifford Smith

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May 022013
 

1. If you could go head-to-head with any writer, living or dead, who would it be and why?

I would love to go head-to-head with Stephen King.  He was my greatest literary influence growing up, and his book On Writing is one that I’ve read every year since it came out.  I would love to sit down and have it out with him regarding process, what inspires him to write and how he deals with the influx of ideas, and just get a sense of what he’s really like when it’s just him, the page, and an empty room.  His book tells a little about that, but there’s always more to be said there.  Plus, I think he’d be a hell of a lot of fun to chat with regarding my own work — no doubt he’d have a few notes for me.  And I him.

2. WRITE CLUB’s ruthlessly enforced 7-minute time limit: pitiless mockery, or unendurable cascade of anguish?

Pitiless mockery.  But that’s totally cool; I think every writer who calls themselves a “writer” in polite (or impolite) company must steel themselves for a good old-fashioned ribbing.  There’s always something to prove… even if your words make it onto actual wood pulp.  Maybe even more so then.  Which makes the triumph over those staring down their noses at you all the more fulfilling.  If, that is, you can pull it off…

3. What works, literary or otherwise, are you currently sharpening your teeth on?

I’m currently reading Eat Pray Love.  I’ve never been big into memoir, but my current project is a fiction memoir, and this book sort of chose me.  Elizabeth Gilbert has a beautiful voice and her style is so candid and naked that I can’t help but love her and be drawn into her experiences.  I admire her writing.

4. You’re contending in WRITE CLUB, you must be pretty awesome. Give a shout-out to someone who contributed to your awesomeness:

A shout out from me MUST go to:  my best friend Mikki.  Remember this name:  Mikki Daughtry.  She’s a screenwriter in LA who’s *this* close to breaking it big.  She’s got two agents, a manager, and several scripts that always knock my socks off every time I read them.  She’s SO talented — makes my prose look like a monkey trying to fuck a football — and she’s also my greatest champion.  Her pitiless question to me:  ”Is your ass in that chair?  Why not?”  And believe me, any writer does NOT want to be on the bad end of that question.

5. What handheld weapon would your writing be, were you to wield it in a street fight? (Against the powers of evil, of course.)

It would be a pearl-handled switchblade.  Pretty if you look at it in the light — and not very imposing against some weapons — but honed to a lethal edge.  If the powers of evil aren’t careful, they would definitely find themselves bleeding from five different places before even seeing me move.

6. Hey, literary fisticuffer, why’d you choose your charity?

I chose my charity because I love animals and hate to see them treated with cruelty.  Makes me want to whip out that switchblade.

7. You are standing over your vanquished opponent. What do you say?

Thanks for giving me a good fight.  Wanna grab a beer?

Extra Credit Question: Take your best guess at the source (or sources) of Viceroy Nick Tecosky’s neuroses.

In order to justify his own awesomeness, he had to develop neuroses to appear more human in front of mere literary mortals.

 

Seven Questions Before Seven Minutes // Monica Greco

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May 012013
 

1. If you could go head-to-head with any writer, living or dead, who would it be and why?

The young Truman Capote of the Harper’s Bazaar years. Impish and charismatic, he’d put on the show of shows. In high spirits after his win he’d spill secrets… antics of the literary circle in 1940’s New York; the hows of creating his vital characters, rich imagery, perfect metaphors.

2. WRITE CLUB’s ruthlessly enforced 7-minute time limit: pitiless mockery, or unendurable cascade of anguish?

Unendurable cascade of anguish. Sure to be the longest seven minutes of my life. Well, maybe not counting the last push in birthing my first child.

3. What works, literary or otherwise, are you currently sharpening your teeth on?

The Tender Bar by J.R. Moehringer, Stephen King’s On Writing, Mockingjay by Suzanne Collins.

4. You’re contending in WRITE CLUB, you must be pretty awesome. Give a shout-out to someone who contributed to your awesomeness:

The late Michael Belluomo, publisher of Sportswear International magazine. He provided my first chance to write as a professional for the apparel industry. He was a generous and encouraging mentor to whom I will always be grateful.

5. What handheld weapon would your writing be, were you to wield it in a street fight? (Against the powers of evil, of course.)

Bow and arrow. Heck, it works for Katniss Everdeen. And blood makes me squeamish, so slaying my prey from a distance is appealing.

6. Hey, literary fisticuffer, why’d you choose your charity?

For victims of domestic violence, leaving may not be possible without support.

7. You are standing over your vanquished opponent. What do you say?

An honor to battle, worthy adversary. Let’s wipe off the sweat and head to the bar. Beers on me.

Extra Credit Question: Take your best guess at the source (or sources) of Viceroy Nick Tecosky’s neuroses.

His obsession with horror. A result, no doubt, of having Jessica Lange for a mother and haunting a big, old house packed with mournful, lost souls for eternity.

Seven Questions Before Seven Minutes // Erika Burns

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Apr 302013
 

1. If you could go head-to-head with any writer, living or dead, who would it be and why?

Maybe Gary Shteyngart, but he’d kick my ass. Super Sad True Love Story is the book I wish I could write.

2. WRITE CLUB’s ruthlessly enforced 7-minute time limit: pitiless mockery, or unendurable cascade of anguish?

We’ll find out!

3. What works, literary or otherwise, are you currently sharpening your teeth on?

Flimsy Little Plastic Miracles by Ron Currie Jr. He’s an acquaintance and his first two novels were awesome. It’s been cool to see his career take off. Check him out!

4. You’re contending in WRITE CLUB, you must be pretty awesome. Give a shout-out to someone who contributed to your awesomeness:

My older sisters, only because they used to make me do their English homework.

5. What handheld weapon would your writing be, were you to wield it in a street fight? (Against the powers of evil, of course.)

Nunchucks: controlled chaos.

6. Hey, literary fisticuffer, why’d you choose your charity?

The Beltline has the opportunity to bring different communities together in a really unique way, get people outdoors, showcase artist, and help improve Atlanta’s atrocious traffic problem.

7. You are standing over your vanquished opponent. What do you say?

The End.

Extra Credit Question: Take your best guess at the source (or sources) of Viceroy Nick Tecosky’s neuroses.

I don’t know him personally, but I’m going to go with ‘daddy issues.’

 

Seven Questions Before Seven Minutes // Chris Alonzo

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Apr 292013
 

1. If you could go head-to-head with any writer, living or dead, who would it be and why?

I’ve been ruthlessly biting my style directly from Spalding Grey for years, so I’d want to go toe-to-toe with the master. He would destroy me, though, with some great piece about what Heaven is like and how it reminds him of when he locked himself out of his apartment or whatever.

2. WRITE CLUB’s ruthlessly enforced 7-minute time limit: pitiless mockery, or unendurable cascade of anguish?

Did I use “ruthlessly” just now because you put it in my head? Probably. I’m not changing it because it’s the correct word.

Total anguish: I’m overly verbose. I usually do hour long solo shows, so it’s been a real challenge to shrink my “sprawling exploration” thing down to 5 minutes or so at other reading series around town. I just know I’m gonna blow it and have the buzzer go off before my killer final line.

3. What works, literary or otherwise, are you currently sharpening your teeth on?

I can’t stop listening to the new Kendrick Lamar. That kid is fucking dope. Just been alternating between King Kendrick and the new Yo La Tengo lately. And watching West Wing on Netflix. And I keep a collection of David Foster Wallace essays on my nightstand because of course I do, ugh, I’m the worst.

4. You’re contending in WRITE CLUB, you must be pretty awesome. Give a shout-out to someone who contributed to your awesomeness:

My parents are really awesome. My brother and I were the only artists to come out of a fairly large Mexican family and my parents, god bless ‘em, just rolled with it, even when it got weird and performance art-y. I can’t imagine that my father, in his wildest dreams, would have thought he’d be videotaping his son in tights singing songs from Cats or screaming profane gibberish about ghost pirates with huge dongs. But he was there, front row, with the video camera every time.

My mother tells me she can feel it when I’m about to go on stage somewhere — she says she feels nervous for me. “What if this is the one where they turn on him??” Really hope Write Club isn’t the one!

5. What handheld weapon would your writing be, were you to wield it in a street fight? (Against the powers of evil, of course.)

A big-ass whip with a razor on the end. Yeah! Just think of it, man!

6. Hey, literary fisticuffer, why’d you choose your charity?

The Leigh Bess Boone Foundation encourages volunteerism and internships in the performing and visual arts by awarding stipends and sponsorships. It was created in the memory of a dear friend of mine who loved volunteering for local arts organizations (in addition to a million other arts-related gigs and pursuits. She SM’d for Robert Wilson and worked on operas and traveled the world. She was the shit and she had the best laugh in history.)

7. You are standing over your vanquished opponent. What do you say?

“TASTE MY WRATH, SIMPLETON!” And then the next day, after the adrenaline wears off, I feel really guilty about it and hope they’re doing OK and maybe follow them on Twitter or find them on Facebook to check up on them and apologize and obsess over that look they gave me after the bout.

Extra Credit Question: Take your best guess at the source (or sources) of Viceroy Nick Tecosky’s neuroses.

I don’t know the source, but for a wild change of pace he might try “sleeping” for a change. Couldn’t hurt.

 

Seven Questions Before Seven Minutes // Sheronda Gipson

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Mar 082013
 

1. If you could go head-to-head with any writer, living or dead, who would it be and why?

Octavia Butler. I wouldn’t win but we’d get one more story from her right?

2. WRITE CLUB’s ruthlessly enforced 7-minute time limit: pitiless mockery, or unendurable cascade of anguish?

Unendurable cascade of anguish as Time Timer strokes its mustache with its hands.

3. What works, literary or otherwise, are you currently sharpening your teeth on?

A series of short non fiction essays about growing up in Mississippi.

4. You’re contending in WRITE CLUB, you must be pretty awesome. Give a shout-out to someone who contributed to your awesomeness:

My cousin Michelle Gipson who told me I could write and I didn’t believe her.

5. What handheld weapon would your writing be, were you to wield it in a street fight? (Against the powers of evil, of course.)

It would be a magic lasso, similar to Wonder Woman’s but more gold.

6. Hey, literary fisticuffer, why’d you choose your charity?

I have a history of breast cancer in my family and Fabulous but Fierce has taken a unique activity and uses it to educate women about breast cancer. A woman that knows her football is the sh- -.

7. You are standing over your vanquished opponent. What do you say?

I’d bend over, look her in her eyes and say, “Girl, let’s go get a glass of wine.”

Extra Credit Question: Take your best guess at the source (or sources) of Viceroy Nick Tecosky’s neuroses.

Maybe it stems from his glasses constantly sliding off his face.

 

Seven Questions Before Seven Minutes // Bill Taft

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Feb 122013
 
1.    If you could go head-to-head with any writer, living or dead, who would it be and why?

Marcel Proust.  Given his tendency to test time limits, the Write Club format would work to my advantage.

2. WRITE CLUB’s ruthlessly enforced 7-minute time limit: pitiless mockery, or unendurable cascade of anguish?

Some people love to attend readings by award-winning authors.  I am not one of those people.  I almost always get distracted at the five-minute mark by a constant refrain sung by the frustrated lounge singer in my mind:  When will it end? When will it end? When will it end?

3. What works, literary or otherwise, are you currently sharpening your teeth on?

Horrible Death headlines from the Atlanta Constitution circa 1912.

A sample:

“PASSENGERS ROASTED IN AWFUL TRAIN WRECK IN COLORADO”;

“WOMAN KILLS MAN WHO INSULTS HER”;

“FELL ON RUNNING SAW.”

The last one stands out as an example of concision. The subject and outcome are so clearly implied that I wince with pain as I type this.

4. You’re contending in WRITE CLUB, you must be pretty awesome. Give a shout-out to someone who contributed to your awesomeness:

My two kids are a big part of the speech and debate team at Grady High School.  I’ve learned a lot about argument by watching them prepare for their many tournaments.

4. What handheld weapon would your writing be, were you to wield it in a street fight? (Against the powers of evil, of course.)

A DIY Bazooka fashioned from PVC pipe stolen from a home construction site. Fires rockets charged with hyperbole and high-explosive metaphor.  The easy-to-install sling attachment enables users to lob King Cobras and Black Mambas a distance of fifty yards. Remember: a good offense is the best defense.

6. Hey, literary fisticuffer, why’d you choose your charity?

Foreverfamily is an afterschool program for children of incarcerated parents.  I taught a creative writing class at Foreverfamily last fall and learned, first hand, how effective a group they are.  Foreverfamily really does change lives.

7. You are standing over your vanquished opponent. What do you say?

The Grady ER can stitch your arm back on, no problem, as long as we leave right now.

 

Seven Questions Before Seven Minutes // Jay Hansbrough

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Feb 102013
 

1.  If you could go head-to-head with any writer, living or dead, who would it be and why?

I’ve been embroiled in a bitter, one-sided feud with Jeffrey Eugenides ever since he stole my idea for Middlesex. We’re like the modern-day Hatfields and McCoys, if the Hatfields had used acerbic hate-tweets instead of muskets and the McCoys were totally unaware that the Hatfields existed. For these and other reasons, I’d love nothing more than to smack that smug mustache right off Eugenides’s stupid face and claim the Pulitzer medal and Oprah book club largesse that are rightfully mine.

2. WRITE CLUB’s ruthlessly enforced 7-minute time limit: pitiless mockery, or unendurable cascade of anguish?

As far as I’m concerned, seven minutes is too fucking long as it is. I’m from the internet, people. We can only digest 30 seconds of content at a time. Also, why no cats? Write Club needs more cats involved.

3. What works, literary or otherwise, are you currently sharpening your teeth on?

Justified, season 4; Sherlock, season 2; Fringe, season 5; Friday Night Lights, seasons 4 and 5; Archer, season 4; Parks and Recreation, season 5; American Horror Story, season 2; Finnegan’s Wake; Steve Nash/Dirk Nowitzki slash fiction (trust me, you need to read this).

4. You’re contending in WRITE CLUB, you must be pretty awesome. Give a shout-out to someone who contributed to your awesomeness:

Most of my positive male role models are from the NBA, but three stand out in particular: Tyrone “Muggsy” Bogues, Alonzo Mourning, and Larry Johnson, Charlotte’s hometown heroes and the scrappy nucleus of the 1991-1995 Charlotte Hornets. They’re the reason I decided to go into medicine.

5. What handheld weapon would your writing be, were you to wield it in a street fight? (Against the powers of evil, of course.)

A roll of quarters in a tightly clenched fist. Intimate, messy. Painful for both parties.

6. Hey, literary fisticuffer, why’d you choose your charity?

It’s City of Refuge, an Atlanta organization that implements projects and initiatives that address the complicated, sad, and frustrating issues of poverty and homelessness, which I am against.

7. You are standing over your vanquished opponent. What do you say?

“This is what it feels like…when doves cry. DUN DUNNA DUN.”

Extra Credit: Take your best guess at the source (or sources) of Viceroy Nick Tecosky’s neuroses.

Something to do with inappropriate touching.

Seven Questions Before Seven Minutes // Bobbin Wages

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Feb 092013
 

1. If you could go head-to-head with any writer, living or dead, who would it be and why?

John Irving. I would love to see someone win for evoking the most sorrow, not laughter. Plus, then I wouldn’t be accused of picking an easy opponent.

2. WRITE CLUB’s ruthlessly enforced 7-minute time limit: pitiless mockery, or unendurable cascade of anguish?

Pitiless mockery

3. What works, literary or otherwise, are you currently sharpening your teeth on?

Iain Banks’ The Bridge, Joan Didion’s The Year of Magical Thinking, and a 30-page New Yorker article about Hillary Clinton published in 1994

4. You’re contending in WRITE CLUB, you must be pretty awesome. Give a shout-out to someone who contributed to your awesomeness:

My college writing professor Sandee McGlaun. She made me feel special before I entered the corporate world, where no one gave a shit about my 90-page poetry portfolio. Upon reflection, I shouldn’t have emphasized it on my resume, or mentioned it at all.

5. What handheld weapon would your writing be, were you to wield it in a street fight? (Against the powers of evil, of course.)

A memoir that tells my enemies the sad, humiliating story of their lives, highlighting their faults to a point that they want to be better people.

6. Hey, literary fisticuffer, why’d you choose your charity?

I chose my charity, Arts 4 Alzheimer’s, because it focuses on people living with Alzheimer’s disease, offering them an opportunity to engage with others and feel good about themselves by harnessing their creative abilities. While I fully support funding and research for a preventative vaccine, I’m glad a charity exists that caters toward those who currently are suffering. Because a negative stigma is attached to the disease, society often backs away from the afflicted, and they end up not getting the support they need and deserve. Alzheimer’s particularly pisses me off because my father has it.

7. You are standing over your vanquished opponent. What do you say?

I’m sorry for farting on you. This whole Write Club thing really upset my stomach.

Extra Credit Question: Take your best guess at the source (or sources) of Viceroy Nick Tecosky’s neuroses.

His disappointment over the cancellation of My So-Called Life

Seven Questions Before Seven Minutes // Kat Greene

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Feb 082013
 

1. If you could go head-to-head with any writer, living or dead, who would it be and why?

I’m going to go with Michael Chabon or Nora Ephron, because I’d want to be humiliated in the most spectacular way possible, and also because both of them have made me laugh and cry in a bathtub filled with lukewarm water, spilled wine, and my own tears.

2. WRITE CLUB’s ruthlessly enforced 7-minute time limit: pitiless mockery, or unendurable cascade of anguish?

I actually have a recurring nightmare about Timey. We go on a date, but I can’t finish a goddamn sentence without him ringing his stupid bell and cutting me off. Then, he rings his little bell to wake me up. We have a very unhealthy relationship.

3. What works, literary or otherwise, are you currently sharpening your teeth on?

Well, there’s a copy of Joan Didion’s “The Year of Magical Thinking” sitting right next to me on the table next to the couch. Unfortunately, that positioning puts it in direct competition with the television, so I usually end up watching Friday Night Lights instead. I’m on Season 5. TV shows are written by writers, in most cases, so I feel like that counts the same as reading. Right? Anyone?

4. You’re contending in WRITE CLUB, you must be pretty awesome. Give a shout-out to someone who contributed to your awesomeness:

Darby Shaw and Hildy Johnson, among others. What’s that you say? Those aren’t real people? Well, why don’t you just SHUT UP.

5. What handheld weapon would your writing be, were you to wield it in a street fight? (Against the powers of evil, of course.)

Omar Little’s shotgun.

6. Hey, literary fisticuffer, why’d you choose your charity?

I chose the FitWit Foundation because it works with teens who wouldn’t otherwise have access to fitness programs to empower them with their own muscles, and with the skills they’ll need to interact with the world and avoid the many problems brought on by obesity. Fitness isn’t just about rich white girls staying skinny. It teaches people what they’re capable of, physically and mentally.

7. You are standing over your vanquished opponent. What do you say?

“Your turn to clean the litter box.”

Extra Credit Question: Take your best guess at the source (or sources) of Viceroy Nick Tecosky’s neuroses.

There was that time when, as a high school actor, Nick took the stage for his “I Wanna Make Magic” solo and the entire audience turned around to face the back of the room in an organized prank. Nick freezes. His hands begin to tremble. The audience is silent, unmoving, with their backs to him. He tries to sing the first bars but his voice cracks. “Why won’t you look at me?” he screams at last. No one moves. He runs from the stage. From a dark corner in the back of the auditorium, Jason Mallory chuckles softly to himself.

 

Seven Questions Before Seven Minutes // Josh Wilcox

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Jan 152013
 

1. If you could go head-to-head with any writer, living or dead, who would it be and why?

- dickens, no chance he stays in the 7-minute window.  i’d win for sure.

2. WRITE CLUB’s ruthlessly enforced 7-minute time limit: pitiless mockery, or unendurable cascade of anguish?

- pitiless mockery (we could all use some brevity)

3. What works, literary or otherwise, are you currently sharpening your teeth on?

- the pinball effect by james burke

4. You’re contending in WRITE CLUB, you must be pretty awesome. Give a shout-out to someone who contributed to your awesomeness:

- my parents

5. What handheld weapon would your writing be, were you to wield it in a street fight? (Against the powers of evil, of course.)

- one of those nuclear rocket launchers from starship troopers

6. Hey, literary fisticuffer, why’d you choose your charity?

- because water shouldn’t be a scarce commodity

7. You are standing over your vanquished opponent. What do you say?

- please do not disturb my friend, he is dead tired

Extra Credit Question: Take your best guess at the source (or sources) of Viceroy Nick Tecosky’s neuroses.

- a constant certainty that the sky is actually falling

Seven Questions Before Seven Minutes // Theroun Patterson

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Jan 142013
 

1. If you could go head-to-head with any writer, living or dead, who would it be and why?

Zadie Smith. She’s a genius. She’s gorgeous. She’d kick my ass.

2. WRITE CLUB’s ruthlessly enforced 7-minute time limit: pitiless mockery, or unendurable cascade of anguish?

Gotta call it at some point.

3. What works, literary or otherwise, are you currently sharpening your teeth on?

Just finished plays by Jez Butterworth, Caryl Churchill, Mike Bartlett, Sheila Callaghan, Penelope Skinner, Nina Raine.  Currently reading NW by Zadie Smith.  New plays coming in the mail: Tusk Tusk and That Face by Polly Stenham and Harper Regan by Simon Stephens.

4. You’re contending in WRITE CLUB, you must be pretty awesome. Give a shout-out to someone who contributed to your awesomeness:

Bad Assed Atlanta Actors.

5. What handheld weapon would your writing be, were you to wield it in a street fight? (Against the powers of evil, of course.)

Brass Knuckles baby!

6. Hey, literary fisticuffer, why’d you choose your charity?

Working Title Playwrights.  For simply, the encouragement and resources I need to get a play developed.

7. You are standing over your vanquished opponent. What do you say?

“What the hell are you doing down there?  Great job!  You’re the shiznit.”

Extra Credit Question: Take your best guess at the source (or sources) of Viceroy Nick Tecosky’s neuroses.
The Great Pumpkin?

Seven Questions Before Seven Minutes // Nicole Isaac

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Jan 132013
 

1. If you could go head-to-head with any writer, living or dead, who would it be and why?  Shel Silverstein. First, just to satisfy my lifelong curiosity over how someone who looks like the cannibalistic overlord of the ninth circle of Dante’s Inferno could be the same, soft-spoken man who writes about having “hug-of-wars” instead of tug-of-wars.  Plus, if I won, I’d demand that he reveal exactly where the sidewalk actually ends.

            2. WRITE CLUB’s ruthlessly enforced 7-minute time limit: pitiless mockery, or unendurable cascade of anguish?  Perfect. Some of the best experiences of my life lasted 7 minutes or under:
  • 7 minutes in heaven
  • Most “Picture Pages” episodes
  • Getting front-row seats to a NKOTB concert when I was 11 and seeing Jordan Knight up close just long enough before passing out.
  • Making Easy Bake Oven peanut butter fudge
  • Losing my virginity.

3. What works, literary or otherwise, are you currently sharpening your teeth on?  ”The Clabbernappers”:  a book I bought for 99 cents at Dr. Bombay’s Underwater Tea Party. It’s about an 11 year old rodeo cowboy summoned by a 4th dimension monarch to save their kidnapped queen from a band of pirates on a checkered sea.

 Gary Shteyngart’s “A Super Sad True Love Story”: I’ve been trying to finish this book for over a year; i can only take its super sad true-ness in small doses.

4. You’re contending in WRITE CLUB, you must be pretty awesome. Give a shout-out to someone who contributed to your awesomeness: My cat Poppycock Artemis Schmute the III, who, by teaching himself to use a computer keyboard despite his lack of opposable thumbs, showed me that there are no valid excuses to dropping the creative ball.

5. What handheld weapon would your writing be, were you to wield it in a street fight? (Against the powers of evil, of course.)  Nunchucks, only in my case, they’d be Punchucks.

             6. Hey, literary fisticuffer, why’d you choose your charity? Kate’s Club: It’s a nonprofit that provides a safe, communal after-school refuge for young children who have lost a parent.
             7. You are standing over your vanquished opponent. What do you say?  “Up, up and away in my wicked doom balloon.”  (from She-Ra)  Or – ”Pull my finger.”
            Extra Credit Question: Take your best guess at the source (or sources) of Viceroy Nick Tecosky’s neuroses.
Baxter the rainbow clown on the Great Space Coaster.

Seven Questions Before Seven Minutes // Lauren Traetto

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Jan 122013
 
1. If you could go head-to-head with any writer, living or dead, who would it be and why?
Charles Baudelaire, because he would probably be drunk, and this would increase my chances of getting a TKO. We’re talking about a physical fight, right?
2. WRITE CLUB’s ruthlessly enforced 7-minute time limit: pitiless mockery, or unendurable cascade of anguish?

Merciful reprieve.

3. What works, literary or otherwise, are you currently sharpening your teeth on?

I’ve been re-reading Changes in the Land: Indians, Colonists, and the Ecology of New England, a historical book basically about how bad Europeans are at getting along with others. I like books with colons in the titles: studies show they sell better than colonless titles. Are you still awake?

I also really like all the books on the Vouched table. You should go buy some.
4. You’re contending in WRITE CLUB, you must be pretty awesome. Give a shout-out to someone who contributed to your awesomeness:
Tim Song and Johnny Carroll let me start writing for Purge ATL when I was just new to Atlanta and didn’t really know anybody. That’s pretty awesome.


5. What handheld weapon would your writing be, were you to wield it in a street fight? (Against the powers of evil, of course.)
I once read a whole article about how tampons are excellent multi-use survival tools. I bet they would make pretty good weapons too. Right? I don’t get in many street fights. 
 
I do have a machete in the trunk of my car, though. That’s a true story. I only use it for when I go salsa dancing. 
 
Think on that, dear opponent. My writing is a machete-tampon that I dance with.
 
6. Hey, literary fisticuffer, why’d you choose your charity?

Are we supposed to keep our charity a secret until the bitter end? I chose my charity because they do real and measurable good. If you want to know more, you have to come to the bout.

7. You are standing over your vanquished opponent. What do you say?
Probably something about tampons.

Extra Credit Question: Take your best guess at the source (or sources) of Viceroy Nick Tecosky’s neuroses.
I don’t know. Isn’t he some kind of Soviet?

Seven Questions Before Seven Minutes // Michael Molina

 Bouts, Local Voices  No Responses »
Jan 112013
 

1. If you could go head-to-head with any writer, living or dead, who would it be and why?  Emily Dickinson, the first white female rapper.  She had so much rhythm and spit such deep, stream of consciousness reflections on the minutia of life she would destroy Lil’ Wayne.  I heard she was fine too.

2. WRITE CLUB’s ruthlessly enforced 7-minute time limit: pitiless mockery, or unendurable cascade of anguish?  No way I go 7 minutes.  If I got past 6:30, I’d be doing a striptease to distract the audience from my mindless rambling.  Not sure if I answered the question, but my answer is a pitiless mockery.

3. What works, literary or otherwise, are you currently sharpening your teeth on?  A spoken word novel called Mass Transit Muse.  Its a rhythmic, free verse rhymed performance piece/story of a bus ride through my native New Orleans.  It will be workshopped January 19 at 7 Stages and is on the schedule for Fall 2013.  Its also a printed book I self published and slang out of my trunk like Master P.

4. You’re contending in WRITE CLUB, you must be pretty awesome. Give a shout-out to someone who contributed to your awesomeness:  My brother Tony, a Shakespearean actor, is my creative hero.  And Tupac… he died that I may spit.

5. What handheld weapon would your writing be, were you to wield it in a street fight? (Against the powers of evil, of course.)  Nunchuckus… makes a pretty sound then bangs upside your head with some fierce meaning!

6. Hey, literary fisticuffer, why’d you choose your charity?  7 Stages is my local artistic center of the universe and they train kids in theatre production.  I’m going to be exploiting those little buggers one day and I want them to be worth my pimping.

7. You are standing over your vanquished opponent. What do you say?  The totems of the moment are the little things… and you are their little king.  You will crawl, until you fly away.

Extra Credit Question: Take your best guess at the source (or sources) of Viceroy Nick Tecosky’s neuroses.  Uncontrollable flatulence which led his parents to build his bedroom around the outhouse.  He hates his ass.

Seven Questions Before Seven Minutes // Shannon Turner

 Bouts, Local Voices  No Responses »
Nov 122012
 
1. If you could go head-to-head with any writer, living or dead, who would it be and why?

I would not deign to go head-to-head with any writer, living or dead, because I would prefer not to be publicly or privately humiliated in the way that I’m about to be.  However, it would be very nice to meet David Rakoff, hear what he has to say, and just have him back on the planet again.
2. WRITE CLUB’s ruthlessly enforced 7-minute time limit: pitiless mockery, or unendurable cascade of anguish?

7-minute time limit is a fantastic idea.  Who wants to hear a bunch of self-important hipsters prattle on for longer than 7 minutes.  I mean really.
3. What works, literary or otherwise, are you currently sharpening your teeth on?


The Book Thief by Marcus Zusak and All About Love by bell hooks; very different books but exactly what I need at this time in my life..
4. You’re contending in WRITE CLUB, you must be pretty awesome. Give a shout-out to someone who contributed to your awesomeness:


Jo Carson was an amazing author, poet, community playwright, and theorist about brain science & creativity.  Though she was good friends with Peter Sagal, not enough people knew she was in this world.  Jo died of colon cancer, a completely preventable disease, because we ask working artists to live in poverty and without health insurance.  She generously shared with me some of her time and thoughts over the course of her last few years and mentored my writing.  I miss her every day.
5. What handheld weapon would your writing be, were you to wield it in a street fight? (Against the powers of evil, of course.)
A wet salami.  I don’t think very highly of myself.
6. Hey, literary fisticuffer, why’d you choose your charity?

Because I work 40 hours or more every week for it and for the artists it serves; they are doing some really important work in the world.  Not just saying that because they pay me.
7. You are standing over your vanquished opponent. What do you say?


Is that really all you got?  Poor you.
 Extra Credit Question: Take your best guess at the source (or sources) of Viceroy Nick Tecosky’s neuroses. 
Unbridled white male privilege with generous heapings of wit and charm.

Seven Questions Before Seven Minutes // Travis Sharp

 Bouts, Local Voices  No Responses »
Nov 112012
 
1. If you could go head-to-head with any writer, living or dead, who would it be and why?

Douglas Adams. He would no doubt dismantle me, but I would hang on every word.

2. WRITE CLUB’s ruthlessly enforced 7-minute time limit: pitiless mockery, or unendurable cascade of anguish?

Anguish cascade, definitely.

3. What works, literary or otherwise, are you currently sharpening your teeth on?
The latest must-reads for fantasy geeks are Brandon Sanderson’s Mistborn series. I can see why — well-structured narratives and a great magic system. Unfortunately his dialogue is wooden and his characters are 2-D, but I’m still reading the damn things.


4. You’re contending in WRITE CLUB, you must be pretty awesome. Give a shout-out to someone who contributed to your awesomeness:
Big Bird. Both my parents worked so when I was a kid TV was a nanny. Thanks to Jim Henson and his crew it wasn’t time wasted.


5. What handheld weapon would your writing be, were you to wield it in a street fight? (Against the powers of evil, of course.)
A slingshot hurling pinworm bullets. When it hits you, nothing happens. But later it crawls up your butt and infects you.


6. Hey, literary fisticuffer, why’d you choose your charity?
I’m going with Dad’s Garage Theatre Company for 3 reasons: 1. Atlanta needs community theatre. 2 Dad’s Garage’s high school outreach program. 3. Dad’s may be homeless soon.


7. You are standing over your vanquished opponent. What do you say?
“Good thing I didn’t vanquish you in central France; I’d hate to litter-a-Tours.” Cue The Who. “Heee-yaaaaah!”


Extra Credit Question: Take your best guess at the source (or sources) of Viceroy Nick Tecosky’s neuroses.
His parents bought him a decorative lamp featuring five clowns in a jalopy when he was three.

Seven Questions Before Seven Minutes // Randy Havens

 Bouts, Local Voices  No Responses »
Nov 102012
 
1. If you could go head-to-head with any writer, living or dead, who would it be and why?
Mark Twain. Because I’d like to have a literary mudhole stomped in my ass.
2. WRITE CLUB’s ruthlessly enforced 7-minute time limit: pitiless mockery, or unendurable cascade of anguish?
A pretty good idea?
3. What works, literary or otherwise, are you currently sharpening your teeth on?
I’m reading The Cosmic Serpent as a sort of preparation for my trip to Peru. (I leave the day after Write Club)
4. You’re contending in WRITE CLUB, you must be pretty awesome. Give a shout-out to someone who contributed to your awesomeness:
Every asshole that I’ve ever met. They combined together to teach me to be a good person.
5. What handheld weapon would your writing be, were you to wield it in a street fight? (Against the powers of evil, of course.)

Probably like knives on the ends of chains.

6. Hey, literary fisticuffer, why’d you choose your charity?
I haven’t picked one yet. I should probably do that.
7. You are standing over your vanquished opponent. What do you say?

“Shhhhhhhhhhhhh…” and then I would do some kind of ritual to ease
the transition from this world to the next.

Extra Credit Question: Take your best guess at the source (or sources) of Viceroy Nick Tecosky’s neuroses.
Voyeurism. Which is funny because I’m standing outside his window.

watching him now.

Seven Questions Before Seven Minutes // Cristen Conger

 Bouts, Local Voices  No Responses »
Nov 082012
 
1. If you could go head-to-head with any writer, living or dead, who would it be and why?

Fran Lebowitz because I admire her wry wit, general badassery and oversized men’s shirts — not to mention that she’d school the shit out of me, which would build character.  

2. WRITE CLUB’s ruthlessly enforced 7-minute time limit: pitiless mockery, or unendurable cascade of anguish?

Anguish.


3. What works, literary or otherwise, are you currently sharpening your teeth on? 

Junot Diaz’ “Drown” just blew my mind, and I’m about to dive into Zora Neale Hurston’s “Complete Short Stories.” I am, apparently, going through a short story phase this fall.


4. You’re contending in WRITE CLUB, you must be pretty awesome. Give a shout-out to someone who contributed to your awesomeness: 

Tim Song, for asking me to do my very first public reading with PurgeATL a few years ago. Not to be dramatic, but it was totally one of the most affirming and motivating experiences I’ve had. Totally.


5. What handheld weapon would your writing be, were you to wield it in a street fight? (Against the powers of evil, of course.)

A lot of my stories/essays thrive on self-deprecation, so I’d say nunchucks because I’ve inevitably just end up hitting myself in the face.


6. Hey, literary fisticuffer, why’d you choose your charity? 

Chris Kids because they house teens who are homeless and have aged out of foster care. They’re also one of the only local organizations that directly assist at-risk LGBT youth.


7. You are standing over your vanquished opponent. What do you say?

You owe me a drink.


Extra Credit Question: Take your best guess at the source (or sources) of Viceroy Nick Tecosky’s neuroses.
As someone with a first name that is never spelled correctly the first time by strangers (and friends.), I’d wager at least one neurosis roots back to having to spell and provide the correct pronunciation of “Tecosky” since early childhood. IT GETS OLD, AMIRITE?

Naked City #2: DEATH.

 Bouts  1 Response »
Jul 242012
 

After a thrilling debut of wheel spinning, word spitting, partial nudity, political espionage, and so many drinks…we’re doing it again. First Wednesdays, little chickies, are the nights for a mic that’s totally open to your madness.
This month’s theme is Death, and we need YOU in order to make this Danse Macabre a feast for crows. There will be deadly prizes on the wheel of consequences, joy to scream at, laughter to tickle your ribs.

How does it work?
We have a topic each month. If you’d like to share your thoughts, sign up early (8:30 seems to be the thing) and grab one of only NINE slots. I (Gina Rickicki) am hosting by my lonesome this month, but I’ll call you up in random order.
You get 5 minutes. FOR 5 MINUTES, THE MIC IS YOURS AND YOURS ALONE, DARLING.
If you go over 5, you need to spin the Wheel of Consequences.
If you go over 6 minutes, we boo you till you stop. All in love, of course :)

Come play. I promise spooky, somber, salacious, malicious, delicious, hilarious good times.
Cost is 10-25 Pay what you can. There is a bar. Parking is free and plentiful.

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