“Everything is copy.”

That’s the lesson that the parents of one of my favorite writers, Nora Ephron, taught their daughter. They were screenwriters, and Nora rebelled by becoming a journalist. (Later, she ended up a screenwriter, too. And an essayist. And a novelist.)

So when I spontaneously decided yesterday to complete a two-day juice cleanse, of course I decided to write about it. You can read about my journey this weekend at Birmingham magazine’s website.

And don’t worry, Mom and Dad. If I feel badly, I’ll eat.

My ink-stained life

FaulknerSlossGood CoffeeHatch postcardsKentuck 2003Labor and Wait
Mystery and MagicNOLAOld CoatPatty GriffinBirmingham magazinePure Coffee
SemicolonsSteel and MagicStructureTimeWhisk Me AwayPrimavera

Ink-Stained Life, a set on Flickr.

It may be easy to guess why I named my blog Ink-Stained Life. I’m a writer, after all, and as a result I often end up with ink all over my hands. (I still prefer to draft lengthy stories by hand. Somehow it helps me get away from my internal editor and just write.)

But it’s also a reflection of the ink that permeates my house. I fell in love with letterpress prints while in graduate school at Alabama. I lived on the same block as Kentuck Art Center, a fabulous little gallery that annually hosts the Kentuck Festival of the Arts in a park nearby. The gallery participated in Northport’s monthly art nights; the first Thursday of each month, galleries stay open late and offer incentives for patrons to come visit. (The event has since expanded to include Tuscaloosa galleries, as well.) Sometimes the incentives were food or drink. Sometimes they were art openings, frequently with the artist on hand. It was during one such event that I wandered down to the gallery and met Amos Paul Kennedy Jr.

I walked into Kentuck and was awestruck by a wall covered with Kennedy’s letterpress prints. Each was unique, and they were all priced at $10. “I can afford an original piece of art?” I thought to myself. As a grad student, that was a surprising idea indeed.

I spent a long time examining each poster, trying to select just the right one to take home. (Yes, they were $10, but I was still too cheap to buy more than one! Remember, I was living on student loans and dreaming of a future in the high-paid field of journalism.) I finally settled on a patchwork-like Good Coffee poster. Kennedy autographed the poster, and I returned home to tack it to the wall in my bedroom. And just like that, an addiction was born.

I’ve since framed that first purchase, and I’ve bought so many more, from Kennedy and others, that I don’t have space in my home or office to hang them all. (Nor do I have the budget to frame them all! the problem with letterpress posters is they’re frequently odd sizes and require custom frames, which means the frame usually costs much more than the artwork inside.) Because letterpress and other forms of printing are generally accessible art, I also have met and in some cases am friends with the artists whose work hangs throughout my home.

My life has become ink-stained in more ways than one. The words that decorate my walls are a constant reminder of beliefs I hold dear, hopes I hold close and people I adore.

Makes me tired, and I want to go to bed

I woke at 5:50 this morning, with little agenda for the day and few responsibilities beyond the care of two very playful cats. It’s a refreshing pace after several days in New York, where I spent nearly all my time talking–with friends, with friends of friends, with my sister, with her friends, with the occasional stranger on the street (because I’m Southern, and that’s how we do things). Being a visitor means staying in motion. It was exhilarating, as New York always is.

But I’m an introvert. I crave quiet moments in coffee shops (and I enjoyed a few of those in the City!), and my perfect Saturday morning involves waking too early, drinking multiple cups of coffee, finishing a book and talking only to my feline companions.

Later today I’ll head downtown for a picnic with friends, then perhaps I’ll pop by a used bookstore to sell some of my collection, then the library to shelve books in advance of next week’s sale. But for now, I’m grateful for this peaceful morning.

This morning’s subject line is from Ryan Adams’ “These Girls.”

Here’s to questions that meet their answers

I love Nora Ephron’s work. Nearly everyone who knows me knows how much I adore her movies–or if they don’t know, they surely wouldn’t be surprised by it. I love her work so much, in fact, that I spent last night cooking and mentally singing the soundtrack to You’ve Got Mail. (OK, she didn’t write the soundtrack. But Nora Ephron’s movies are the sort that have soundtracks that stick with me. So there’s that.)

Even so, I can certainly manage a giggle when a writer I admire makes a gaffe in a column. That’s one of the dangers of columns, isn’t it? Your words are intended for what’s hot that day or that week. They may not hold up over time.

The general sentiment of “How to Write a Newsmagazine Cover Story” (Esquire, October 1975, reprinted in Scribble Scribble: Notes on the Media) passes that test. It’s a snarky instructional guide on how to become a writer. (“Reporters have to learn how to uncover FACTS. This is very difficult to learn in your spare time. There are also serious journalists. But serious journalists have TALENT. …”)

Ephron mercilessly pokes at Time and Newsweek writers, listing example after example of how to do as they do. (“Find a subject too much has already been written about.”) “Try, insofar as it is possible, to imitate the style of press releases.”) And the column is very funny.

But it’s also funny to watch one of my heroes, whose screenplays so accurately depict relationships, step so far afield. Rule No. 2 in this how-to guide is “exaggerate the significance of the cover subject.” As with each rule, Ephron includes examples from news magazine cover stories. In this case, those include Liza Minnelli, Francis Ford Coppola and Lauren Hutton.

You know what they say about hindsight. I only hope seeing a great writer like Ephron’s mis-predictions will someday help me take my own in stride.

I also love Esquire so much that I recently forced a copy, featuring a half-naked Brooklyn Decker on the cover, into the hands of a date. “Read this,” I told him. “It’s brilliant.” That may qualify me for “best date ever” status, don’t you think? He emailed two days later, after reading it cover to cover, and affirmed my taste in magazines.

Oh, and the entry title comes from Tara Leigh Cobble’s “Here to Hindsight.”

I am only a caged bird singing

My final assignment as a journalism grad student was to write a series of articles of some length on some topic. At the time, that was an overwhelming charge: What can I write about? Anything? Really, anything? How many stories should I write? How long should they run? I had lots of questions. But in retrospect, I understand why the guidelines for the master’s project were so open ended. Those are the types of questions I answer every day. Reporting and the publication itself determine the answers. I just start with the topic.

My master’s project was a series of three articles about independent musicians. I was fascinated by these people who built careers apart from the music industry marketing machines, and some of my sources had experience both on major labels and off.

Six years after I walked across the stage at Coleman Coliseum, I’m still able to explore music and its industry changes, sometimes through reviewing new albums (self-released, indie releases, major label releases–there’s a lot of great stuff coming from all directions), sometimes through interviewing national and local musicians. On Friday, a couple of Birmingham musicians promoted their evening gig with surprise lunchtime performances at local restaurants. I was there with video camera in hand, and it was such an adrenaline rush to see music performed in an unexpected context. That master’s project was more than a semester-long assignment necessary for my degree; it was the first step toward writing about an art form and business that continues to move me every day.

Gum Creek Killers make two surprise appearances at Birmingham eateries, Birmingham Box Set

(The subject line comes from “The Glass Ceiling” by another Birmingham-based musician, Jon Black.)

Pour me a glass of wine, talk deep into the night

This is another entry I wrote and saved as a draft, at least a year ago. It seems appropriate to trot it back out now, during a season of particular introversion and reflection.

I’ve been interested in psychology since I knew what it was, or at least since I enrolled in AP Psych during my junior year of high school. I briefly attended grad school in school counseling, and I still think back to my emotional-social disorders and intro to counseling theories. I never could settle on a theory that I most favored, but given my obsession with the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator, I think I might have tended toward Jungian thought.

I bring this up because I’ve been analyzing people constantly since last fall, when I read Isabel Myers’ Gifts Differing. I took the MBTI years ago, so I’ve classified myself as an INFJ for ages. From what I’d read on the matter, I agreed with the type. But I had no idea how frighteningly accurate it is until I read more about the indicator. Some parts that struck me as particularly interesting:

Introverts characteristically pause before action (true of me!). Extroverts dominate Western civilization, and outnumber introverts three to one.

Introverts are inherently continuous because their being is based on inner stimuli.

In work, introverts are often slow to publish or proclaim it finished, but it gains depth. … less affected by lack of encouragement; value of work not determined by others.

Introverts are closer to eternal truths. Extroverts understand by experiencing.

“The extrovert’s wish for active sociability runs counter to the introvert’s wish for privacy, especially when the introvert’s work is socially demanding. The day’s work may use up all the extraversion available; home represents a chance for the peace and quiet needed to regain balance.”

You only give me your funny paper

During a “positive attributes” exercise at a staff retreat this summer, a coworker wrote about me, “Reading, writing and ‘rithmetic–well, two out of three ain’t bad!” And I jokingly took offense, because I always did pretty well in math, thank you very much. Still, there’s some truth to the stereotype that writers aren’t great with numbers–even when those numbers are monetary. Sometimes, a creative challenge can lead a writer to financial focus.

I’ve tested my self discipline before by taking a month off from eating out. I often default to “let’s do lunch!” when I need to get together with a friend or work contact. And I love eating out, but I also value cooking for myself and thoughtfully determining what I’ll consume that day or week. Taking a month away from restaurants saved money, I’m sure, but it also helped me focus on larger issues, like my morning time management or disregarding my advance planning and eating out with colleagues even when I brought lunch to work.

This week, I’ve challenged myself in another way. My roommate and I bought our Christmas tree on Sunday, with me putting it on my debit card and Holly repaying me in cash. The $20 bill she handed me served as inspiration: I decided to see if I could make it through the work week using only that bill.

Mind you, I did allow an exception, as rent was due yesterday. But otherwise, I’ve paid for everything with that $20. When I needed milk Monday, I avoided satisfying other cravings (steak and a bottle of Cabernet) because they weren’t within my week’s budget. I’ve also been mindful of how often I stop at the coffee shop, because I only had so much cash in my wallet.

This was an easy week for an experiment, I’ll admit. Rent was the only bill due, and I had a half-tank of gas to start the week.  But my little game has been useful even as I rationed what I already had, carefully contemplating my route from appointment to appointment and determining if I would have enough gas to make it through Friday.

Now I’m facing down tomorrow with about $7 left. I’ll spend more Saturday before we have friends over for dinner, and I’ll probably need to fill my gas tank. But I’m considering a $20 work week allowance. Even if I get a serious caffeine craving, that’s 10 cups of coffee (before tip) at my local coffee shop!

The week’s totals:

Monday, $1 on pita chips at lunch
$7 on an onion, three potatoes and milk

Tuesday, $0

Wednesday, $2.76 on a small coffee plus a refill

Thursday, $0.93 on a petite scone and $1.93 on a small coffee

I am in love with something invisible

I’m generally a rather organized, precise girl. So when I intended to renew my Oxford American subscription, I was fairly sure that I had followed through. Apparently not; I continued receiving renewal notices, warning me that I was in danger of missing the annual music issue. (Don’t you worry. Not only did I send in my two-year, automatic renewal notice–with the bonus of a gift subscription for my mother–this morning, I also pre-ordered the music issue. This year’s focus is Alabama music. I’ve anticipated it for months.)

Meanwhile, as I began reading the December issue of Esquire, I noticed an interesting notation on my subscription label. April 2013.

I’m glad I got something right–a couple of times over.

Hey look, I’m not weighed down

There are a lot of ways I know I’m busy. It’s the way I tend to live my life (although I haven’t quite figured out why–perhaps it’s the Type A thing). My birthday card from my grandparents was even titled “Ode to a Busy Person.”

And at present, the most glaring example of my busy-ness is the long list of unplayed podcasts in my iTunes. Silly, isn’t it? But I’ve barely listened to a one of them this month.

I queud up the most recent episode of The Splendid Table on the drive home Friday night, and was quickly reminded of how much I love that show and public radio in general. Here’s hoping I can slow it down for the rest of the summer–or at the very least, fit podcasts into my drive time.

American Public Media’s The Splendid Table (3)

B&N Meet the Writers Series (2)
Kathryn Stockett, author of The Help
Alice Hoffman, author of The Story Sisters

Book Lust with Nancy Pearl (1)
Featuring Susan Wiggs

New York Times Book Review (2)

Little, Brown and Company (1)
Luis Alberto Urrea, author of The Devil’s Highway

NPR All Songs Considered (4)
The Best Music of 2009 (so far)
Discoveries from the Pitchfork Music Festival
Monsters of Folk
Merge Records Turns 20

NPR Books Podcast (3)

NPR Live Concerts from the All Songs Considered Podcast (5)
Dave Douglas Brass Ecstasy Tiny Desk Concert
Bill Callahan Tiny Desk Concert
Sonic Youth
Maria Taylor Tiny Desk Concert
The Avett Brothers Tiny Desk Concert

NPR This I Believe (2)
Returning to What’s Natural
The Questions We Must Ask

NPR Wait, Wait Don’t Tell Me (3)

Paste Culture Club (2)
Including the Harry Potter podcast!

Some New Trend (2)

This I Believe (3)
Colleen Shaddox
Jackie Robinson
Kay Redfield Jamison

(The other thing this proves? I’m a big book and NPR nerd.)

Made with love

Sometimes an idea is worth copying. This is me, jumping on the bandwagon.

The first five people to respond to this post will get something made by me. This offer does have some restrictions so please read carefully:

  •  I make no guarantees that you will like what I make.
  • What I create will be just for YOU.
  • It will be done this year (2009).
  • It will be something made my own two hands.
  • It might be a mix CD, a knitted scarf, stack of cards, a poem, baked goods, an original photograph … the possibilites are infinite.

In return, all you need to do is post this on your blog or facebook and make five things for five other people.