Weird Food Adventures in Oxford (With Bonus Risotto Interlude)

See? Lots of people drink them!

Item One: A Beverage Tragedy

I just spilled my nearly-full dirty chai all over platform three at the Swansea train station. I'm cranky, caffeine-deprived, and underfed. Now that I'm on the train, I just want to sleep. But I don't really want to sleep, I want to do stuff like read and blog and play Scrabble on my phone.

So, navigating the aisles of the train, I walk/stumble/almost-fall to the cafe car and order an espresso. The coffee guy advises me that the espresso measures all of 1/8 an inch. So he makes me an Americano. I add a little sugar for fun and down it.

Update:

I slept.

(Note: A dirty chai is a chai latte with one or more shots of added espresso. This is apparently a shock for the baristas in Swansea, who looked at me as if I had ordered a double espresso with a dollop of chamomile tea sprinkled with paprika.)

Goat cheese and stuff, and oh, I’m in Prague!

View from our apartment balcony which is fairly awesome

Should I clean it?

Day One in Prague! I slept until 1 pm!

You guys, instead of being awake and doing things and practicing Czech, I was in a very realistic dream in China where an older married couple were offended by the art I gave them—a very nice painting—and they kept trying to clean it. And they were sort of trying to be polite about it but had disgusted looks on their faces. And then there was an American guy there who married some lady, then they started fighting, then they were hanging out with the other couple, and someone was going to die. And I kept thinking that I needed to get out of there, but instead I was trying help everybody. So, so stupid Amy, stop trying to fix All The Problems.

My subconscious is the weirdest. I would hate to be a tourist in all that shit right there.

Then I woke up, and it was the effin’ afternoon, and my indefatigable friend Jill had already bought me a double macchiato (the real kind not the Starbucks kind) and it was cooled down and I cared not at all. It was the best.

So we went out to walk to Peace Square (exactly none of the locals call it Peace Square) and we ended up sitting at a very pleasant pub eating excellent salad. Jill had beer, I had cider. We were here because we had walked in exactly the wrong direction. Instead of Peace Square, we had almost reached The River. Not even the part with the big cool bridge.

—Bonus Cheese Interlude—

You. Guys. Can we talk about baked cheese?

I read in Rick Steve’s Czech travel guide (an excellent travel guide btw) that fried cheese is common here. I imagine breaded-ass fried mozzarella-type stick thingies that crunch and make those allergic to gluten quite ill. 

Anyway, I ordered a salad with goat cheese. Baked goat cheese. It was the most tastiest, mildest, yummy cheese ever. 

(Jen, I know you’re reading this. Yes, I did need that much goat cheese.)

—End Bonus Cheese Interlude—

And it poured rain while we ate. Jill practiced some Czech (mostly děcuji, meaning thank you, but also na zdravi, meaning cheers, which is one of the first things I learned, because booze). And I helped her learn because I have to fix All The Problems.

Poems and Pints and a Play at the Queens Pub, Carmarthen

Dominic Williams and Annie Butler read
The Nice View by Cynthia Veal Holm

Last night at the Queen's Pub in Carmarthen, two Welsh writers/actors, Dominic Williams and Annie Butler, performed an award-winning play by Lesley University's own Cynthia Veal Holm. In April, Cynthia won the Gary Garrison award for her ten minute play, The Nice View, which was one of four featured works performed at the Kennedy Center. Yeah, that's what I said: MY FRIEND Cynthia's play was performed at the frickin' Kennedy Center. Last night was hailed by Dominic as its "UK premiere."

As usual, the Welsh know how to do literature right: mixing an ancient literary tradition with a passion for the spoken word and lots of cider and ale. Poems and Pints is a group of writers who meet every month in Carmarthen to share their work while enjoying delicious beverages. I don't even know what kind of cider I was drinking--just whatever was on tap, which in Wales is always good.

Cynthia's award

We three Americans were the "guests of honor" at this event--sponsored by Write4Word--which means we got to read a little of our work along with the rest of these passionate, talented writers. What a pleasure to be in a land where literature is so treasured. The writing was first-rate, and the group was full of people who know how to listen.

Cider, a Potato, and... oh yeah, a Castle!

A view of Laugharne from the castle grounds

Sometimes you just want a lamb shank. It's the ideal Welsh lunch--some shank of lamb, cider, and a gorgeous sunny day in Laugharne, Carmarthenshire, Wales. 

And then you order, and the charming lady serving you at your perfect patio table regretfully tells you that they're out of lamb. We're in Wales, and there's no lamb to be had.

But hey! I'm flexible! I loves me some lamb, but I loves me a lot of things. Cider, check: made by  Tomos Watkin, who makes the "Great Ales of Wales." Espresso: they got it, just gonna wait 'til after I eat. Lamb: nope, but potatoes! Baked potatoes served with any variety of ingredients I could possibly desire. Even a salad on the side.

Arthur's, home of friendly service, delicious potatoes,
and easy-drinkin' cider

So, toppings: cheese, natch. Then the server asks if I'd like brie or cheddar. Brie, please! And bacon! And I'm happy.

Not that's it's difficult on a day like today. I'm hanging out with two fantastic women, enjoying wonderful weather, thinking about the castle just down the road.

Oh, yeah--there's a castle! Laugharne Castle it's called, which is good, because I can actually remember the name. I haven't really seen it yet, because I've been, um, eating and... drinking wine, and, that other thing I like to do... sleeping. And some writing, believe it or not.

The grounds of Laugharne Castle

My potato arrives with a load of proper Welsh bacon and two big SLABS OF BRIE. Oh, people, the things that make me happy.

I eat it all. I drink a rather large bottle of cider. I drink my espresso, then the three of us stroll to the little craft store. Which is really fun for me, because the lady who runs the shop speaks full-on Welsh with a few of the customers. I understand almost nothing, but I just love listening to the fluid vowels, the distinct but soft consonants: lots of mild "th" and "ch" sounds, not choppy like English.

Then, we actually do walk to the castle. We hope to take a tour tomorrow, but for today, we're content to look at scenes like this:

Jill admires Laugharne Castle while enjoying homemade
chocolate Welsh ice cream

And this:

Part of the estuary that runs by the castle

And I simply take a moment to feel gratitude for being in this place at this time. On the walk home, I pass a pub with a rather large blue banner printed with white letters:

There's no food here

Behind the low fence, on a small chalkboard, someone has written "NOT SERVING FOOD." We asked, and they in fact do not serve food. I guess the banner is just a Welsh tease.

When Things Go Wrong, Awesome Stuff Happens

Dylan Thomas' Birthplace in Swansea, Wales

Say the word "yarn." Now say it with an "l" instead of a "y" - "larn." Now extend the "ah" sound just a little: "lahrn." Well done! You are now able to pronounce the name of the town in which I reside at the moment: Laugharne, which is in Carmarthenshire, Wales.

I know how to pronounce this word because of a very kind lady my friends and I met at a tiny pub yesterday in Swansea, also in Wales. We had arrived on a train direct from Paddington Station in London. We made our way to the Europcar place where I had reserved a vehicle, which I planned to drive around this beautiful country, because I love to drive, even when I have to be on the left and read road signs at the same time. This is the kind of challenge that makes me happy.

But. We were an hour early, because we traded in our train tickets for earlier train tickets, thinking we were just oh-so-smart. I called the car dude and said, hey, it's six, we're here an hour early! and he said, lady, I'm not coming until seven, and I said okay then! because when you have no choice, it's best to retain, or at least fake, a good attitude.

3 Reasons Why It's Okay To Sleep at a Writing Retreat (When You Should Be Writing)

I just spent a week at a writing retreat called The Porches, a lovely spot in rural Virginia on the James River. Many times I've taken myself there to work without distractions, in a private room with a solid desk, and lots of peace and quiet. I got some good writing done that I look forward to continuing. I also edited a piece and submitted it. And I drank some good wine.

Also, I slept.

Trudy Hale, the owner and operator of The Porches, once told me that many writers arrive, set themselves up for good, focused work, then spend two days mostly sleeping. They are always surprised by this, and wonder why they're sleeping in or napping every day when they were so geared up to work. It's simple, Trudy says. They're tired.

Writing Habits: 3 Ways to Engage Your Subconscious Mind

Yesterday I read this article in Observer by Benjamin Hardy. This paragraph got me thinking about the power of the subconscious mind:

The first thing to do when you wake up is output. This may be in the form of writing in a journal to capture all the work your subconscious has been doing while you were sleeping. Or immediately getting to the project you’re working on. When you get out of a meeting or finish any form of activity, rather than going directly to your email or other input, maximize your subconscious by going directly to output—your work. 

I've never thought in terms of "input" and "output" before, but now I'll probably use the words all the time because they fit so well into my beliefs about how the subconscious powers our writing.

Now This is Cool: Non-Profit Dedicated to Studying the Brain Through Writing

Oliver Sacks died just a couple of days ago: August 30, 2015. I miss him already. His writing--elegant, precise, and compassionate--inspires me not just to be a better writer, but to be a better human. He believed in the power of story to heal and to better understand the human mind.

While doing some research on his life, I found this: The Oliver Sacks Foundation. Then I got all excited when I read this:


The Oliver Sacks Foundation is a nonprofit organization devoted to increasing understanding of the human brain and mind through the power of narrative nonfiction and case histories.

The foundation’s goals include making Dr. Sacks’s published and yet-unpublished writings available to the broadest possible audience, preserving and digitizing materials related to his life and work and making them available for scholarly use, working to reduce the stigma of mental and neurological illness, and supporting a humane approach to neurology and psychiatry. (emphasis mine)

Those of us who love to read already know the power of storytelling to make meaning from our lives and better understand our internal worlds. I've never bought into the dividing line between art and science, between what we think is quantifiable and what we think is not. Sacks clearly felt the same, using his tremendous writing talent to share the experiences of and humanize his patients and himself.

Narrative nonfiction, you guys! Let's get into it!

I remember you, Oliver Sacks, M.D. RIP.

How to Write a Synopsis of Your Book

I came across these resources almost by accident today. I'm always surprised by how difficult it feels to write a synopsis; so much happens in a book that it isn't easy to sum it up in a few short pages. But, like the rest of my writing, if I feel I have a strategy in place, it becomes much simpler and less daunting.

Literary Agent Maria Vicente recently posted a few guidelines about writing a synopsis:

9 Current Calls for Nonfiction Submissions

Let's check out some opportunities for nonfiction writers!

I keep a running list of potential markets for my work by scouring a variety of sources, including Literary Hub, The Review Review, NewPages, Places for Writers, and a bunch of other sites. You can check them out to find more options, including poetry, fiction, and cross-genre.

I'm happy to share this with you, in the spirit of writers helping writers. As usual, submit your best work and read the guidelines carefully.

How Do You Love Your Books?

How do you love your books?

Do you treat them gently, never dog-earing or writing in them, keeping them stacked neatly on shelves with titles facing out? Do you occasionally cull the ones you no longer need, which is easy because you've organized them so well, and donate some and sell others (which barely look used)?

Do you smoosh them into your bag, fold down a page because you keep losing bookmarks, scribble in the margins in what is probably your worst handwriting, shove them into a drawer with other books you aren't using but can't bear to give up? Do you mark your place by putting a pen between pages, creating a permanent place that the book now opens to every time?

I have fellow MFA students who are determined to write notes about the books they're assigned only in their notebooks. It helps them think better about determining a subject for their craft annotation. It leaves the book clean, unmarked, easily kept or sold or donated.

I think this is great. I can't do it.

I mark as I read. I circle, bracket, underline, draw arrows and stars, write in the margins, all of which can mean anything. When I go back, these marks simply tell me that I had a gut response to this phrase or section. This is my starting point for choosing a subject for the craft essay.

To be honest, I also find it fun--rebelliously so--to mark up a pristine book. It's mine now! Sort of cave-woman like, isn't it? Territory! Book mine! Go find own book! No share!

Just some thoughts I had after reading Nick Ripatrazone's article in LitHub, The Pleasures of Destroying a Good Book. Not just any book: a good book. The marks of love, like a worn-out stuffed bear. I don't know that I'd go so far as to break the spine, but I get it. Come to think of it, I've broken the spines of plenty of piano music books, so what's the difference?

Two Open Contests for Both Flash Fiction and Flash Nonfiction

Have a short piece lying around that you're not sure what to do with? Get it out, do some editing, and find a home for it. Many litmags and journals now publish flash work; some do it exclusively.

How to Write Short is Roy Peter Clark's well-reviewed book about how to master the craft of writing a short piece. The fact that there is an entire book about it tells us that short does not equal easy. For me it's tougher, but very rewarding.

(I like that pencil-in-the-bullseye image.)

Interested in a contest? Here are two open right now:

Memoir Craft: Grappling With Memory in Warm Springs (Part 3)

In Part 1, I wrote about Susan Richards Shreve's craft technique of writing about her memory within the creative narrative of her memoir, Warm Springs. She begins immediately with the word "traces" and its double meaning: the small responses still evident in muscles atrophied by polio, and the flashes of memory she mines from her time living at the polio hospital.

In Part 2, we looked at the beautiful scene describing Shreve's first memory, one that could not have happened, but she insists she remembers.

Read the New, Digital, Annotated Alice's Adventures in Wonderland

Tag this latest edition of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland "literary coolness:"

From Medium:

An annotated edition — twelve Lewis Carroll scholars taking a chapter each. A joint project from The Public Domain Review and Medium, in celebration of the 150th anniversary of the classic tale.

Here's an example from Chapter 1...

"The rabbit-hole went straight on like a tunnel for some way, and then dipped suddenly down, so suddenly that Alice had not a moment to think about stopping herself before she found herself falling down a very deep well."

...with an annotation by Zoe Jaques:

"‘[N]ot a moment to think’: Carroll’s repeated references to Alice’s lack of reflection on her entry to Wonderland recalls both the impulsive nature of childhood and also the undirected and non-reflective manner of dreaming."

Read the text, complete with annotations, here on Medium. And definitely check out Arthur Rackhman's beautiful illustrations.

This Week's Wanna Read: The Speechwriter. Read an Excerpt.

The Washington Post says it "will become a classic on political communication." The New York Times describes it as "a nice little examination of the anguish of writing" and "a marvelously entertaining book." The Speechwriter is "a welcome change of pace and scope" writes The Politics Reader.  I wanna read it, writes Amy.

I enjoy reading books about politics that take us inside the facade of press conferences, campaigning, and today's ever-present idea of "branding" and image-making. I l want insight into how human beings finding themselves in positions of power and/or influence make decisions that affect thousands or millions of people. How do those powerful people talk to each other? How do you make friends in that arena, or do you just make connections? What drives a person toward elected office or to work for an elected official? How do you live your own life when this happens? Can you? Is corruption or lying or obfuscating or covering-up just part of that life, no matter how intact your moral compass is when you begin?

I have a lot of questions. Also, I think The Speechwriter, while being a revealing take on the inner sanctum of a governor's office, will also be just plain fun to read. I'll find out.

Fortunately for us, Literary Hub has an excerpt from the book. Read it here.

Memoir Craft: Grappling With Memory in Warm Springs (Part 2)

In Part 1, I wrote about the first example of Susan Richard's Shreve's craft technique of making transparent her process of grappling with memory. In her memoir Warm Springs, she employs the metaphor of being examined by doctors to find "traces" of muscle movement in her legs, which have been decimated by polio. Each muscle requires her complete concentration, patience, and focus; recovering her memories, she says, requires the same effort, even if it is only to find "traces" of them.

The second example is a stunning, one-page chapter titled "Memory in Process" in which Shreve recalls her first memory. She is one and half years old and recovering from polio. Her mother walks in and approaches her crib:

Aging Doesn't Make Us Stupid

I occasionally spend time at a writing retreat called The Porches. After “quiet writing time” ends at 5:30, during which I stare out the window, drink coffee, sleep, and sometimes write something, I pour a glass of red wine (’cause that’s a hard day’s work) and play the old, out-of-tune piano in the parlor. Other writers sometimes sit and listen, which is fun for me and it breaks the ice.

This Week's Wanna Read: Between the World and Me by Ta-Nehisi Coates

This book is so hot right now. People who haven't read it are talking about it, that's how hot, how relevant, how urgent, how beautifully written this book is. I'm here talking about it, like I did in that previous sentence, and I haven't read it. For now, I'm accepting that I will find the book to meet all of those adjectives, because the consensus is just that strong.

If Toni Morrison agrees to endorse your book and describes it as "required reading"--then refers to the writer as the successor to James Baldwin--it's going to gain a lot of attention.

I found some interesting, lesser-read reviews online, including one from the blog "The Christian Century." The writer is a Christian, and speaks against the comments of religious people who have derided the book because they find Coates' atheism an insurmountable obstacle to engaging with his message:

Memoir Craft: Grappling with Memory in Warm Springs (Part 1)

Susan Richards Shreve is concerned with memory--its accuracy, reliability, power, and how various people can experience the same events and have entirely different memories of those events.

In Warm Springs, her memoir of spending two childhood years at a polio hospital, she is determined to tell the truth. The truth, as the reader discovers during the story, is established by Shreve in part by making transparent her process of grappling with memory.

On three occasions she takes time--within the story itself--to let us into her process. The first is immediate: the word "traces," which is in the subtitle and is the focus of the first brief chapter.

A few more six-word memoirs I like from Smith Magazine:


chocolate chip cookie endowment coming soon

I came. I saw. I sat.

Searching for profound moments of pleasure.

These years writing about those ones.

                                          What the hell is going on?