Grace Reading Series

Hey dudes. I totally broke the I O and P keys on my laptop with my awesome blue nails so now I had the nails taken off but am still kind of impaired with the whole typing thing. I am going to the genius bar at mac to get them to fix it in the wee hours--they are open until midnight--and THAT is the kind of service we are paying New York rent for. Anyway--more from BELLY's creator Lisa Selin Davis, inspirational road warrior:

The phoenix is a symbol a renewal—big bird rising from the ashes and all. And every time I come to the city that is its namesake, I am struck by its ability to renew, or to reinvent, itself. Since last I was here, a whole new slew of “renovated” lofts has risen up along University Avenue, these ones decorated with corrugated metal and concrete slabs painted in various day-glow shades. As always, this ugliness of this place takes my breath away: it’s so ugly, I almost like it. Almost.

The three of us were on some midday news show earlier in the day, sitting right next to the blond weather girl who stood before the green screen and told the world that it would be sunny and 80 in Phoenix—as always. The interviewer had a sheet of paper with our names on it, and copies of our books, and asked all of us the same question: what does it take to be a novelist? Perseverance, said Vicky. Perseverance, said Karen. And when Scott the interviewer turned to me, I said, “Oh, yes, it takes a certain amount of sticktoitiveness, but there are also a number of good books that never make it to the shelves, so there’s a certain amount of luck involved as well.” What? Luck? Why did I say that? I guess I’m not so good at thinking on my feet, or thinking in an admiral chair in front of blinding lights on TV. I like radio the best. I wish the folks from NPR wanted to talk to us. Lenny, come on: it’s not too late.

I went to graduate school here, at Arizona State, and for some undisclosed reason, I was never funded. Almost everyone was funded, but I wasn’t (the year after I left, they received a $10 million gift, so that now all grad students are funded, making $20,000 a year to write stuff down on paper—more than many of us make now). One of the reasons I wanted to go on this tour—something I really looked forward to—was my homecoming. I looked forward to, well, metaphorically sticking my tongue out at my old colleagues and professors—even the ones I liked—and showing them what I could do despite their lack of support. And while the reading was fairly well attended, not one person from ASU shows up. Okay: one person, but someone who arrived at the program after I finished, and he is the only one. We read outside, directly below the flight path, and eventually, I just tried to work the rumble of the engine into the near-rape scene that I read, pretending a plane soars over Belly as he presses an innocent girl into the ground. It’s all part of my homecoming, to read the most disturbing scene I can by the fake lake, in front of the steakhouse, to none of my old colleagues.

Ironically, it is homecoming this weekend. In fact, the English department has planned a series of readings for “published graduates” to celebrate. Um, does Little, Brown count as publishing? I am confused.

In the end, I think we all found the tour worth it. It was probably more worth it for my tourmates, what with the room service in the fancy hotels and all, but each of us got much more press together than we would have individually. And I did make some new friends, lovely writers, both of them. The main thing, though, is that, more than renewal, I got a little bit of closure. I have five more readings this year, and then, I think, I will put BELLY to bed. The last of my readings are happening just as some other things are ending—the school year, my relationship—and I hope that I can rise from the ashes more successfully than the city of Phoenix.

--LISA SELIN DAVIS