I’m taking a social media break for the month of January (we’ll see how well that goes!) In the meantime, I wish all of you a healthy, happy, and peaceful 2023! If you’d like to reach out to me personally, please contact me at julia@justscribbling.com; for any inquiries regarding the MoCo Underground Writers Showcase, please email mocounderground@gmail.com.
I recently had the honor to be named the 2021 Nancy Zafris Short Story Fellow, a precious gift that granted me a ten-day writing retreat at Porches to work on my current collection, Reliance. Those of you who are writers, and more specifically, those who have had the great good fortune to visit Porches, will immediately grasp the generosity of that gift. But for those of you who are not writers and perhaps have no idea what a writer actually does during a writing retreat, I hope you’ll find my summary of my recent experience by way of, to use a business term, “deliverables,” illuminating, both in terms of what I was able to accomplish as well as what a transformational creative experience my retreat was. During my 10 days, I:
Wrote an 850-word book review! (For the wrong book, but that’s beside the point.)
Finished reading the last 130 pages of Here’s the Deal by Ross Miller.
Read the entire July/August issue of Poets & Writers, 120 pages, in one fell swoop. And I mean that swoop was fell.
Submitted two older stories to journals.
Finished polishing my story “Needlework.”
Read all 304 pages of Nancy Zafris’s book The Metal Shredders, where I first got to know the character of Don Capachi.
Wrote a short poem inspired by Nancy Zafris’s book The Metal Shredders.
Wrote a brand-new 2,200 word story, “Maggie & Charlie.”
Read all 320 pages of Satan Is Real: The Ballad of the Louvin Brothers by Charlie Louvin with Benjamin Whitmer, which was not at all the book I thought it was going to be, and which also reminded me of the old adage, “You can’t judge a book by its cover,” 100% true in this case. However, having said that, if it hadn’t been for this book’s absolutely bonkers cover, I likely never would have picked it up as I did at Blue Moon Antiques & Book shop, and it is a damned fine book, one of my favorite reads in years.
Finished polishing my “Maggie & Charlie” story.
Finished reading the last 200 pages of Go Tell It on the Mountain by James Baldwin.
Wrote another brand-new 3,000-word story, “This Might Hurt A Bit.”
Started reading The Warmth of Other Suns by Isabel Wilkerson; got to around page 340 of its 647 total pages.
Took 233 pictures/videos on my phone.
Read all 177 pages of Nancy Zafris’s collection The Home Jar, which knocked my ever-lovin’ socks off. That llama farm? Holy crap! And to end it with that beautiful reunion with Don Capachi? Oh. An absolute joy to read.
Drew 3 new pictures, which is 3 more than I’ve drawn in decades.
Entered into a spreadsheet 250 names/titles & suite numbers from an image I found online of a 1900s-era Reliance Building directory, so that I can edit it and use it in funky ways in my Reliance collection.
Took the work I’ve completed on Reliance to date and began assembling it as the collection I’ve envisioned for 16 years now; wept to see it looking like a “real” book.
Completed roughly 12–15 hours total of new research, in which I learned for the first time about Henry “The Midget Bandit” Fernekes, a mind-bogglingly fascinating and oddly underappreciated crook who’s received far less attention historically than he should have, thanks to being overshadowed by Capone.
Wrote 45 pages in my journal, which is 42 journal pages more than I’ve written in the past 6 months.
Started reading two additional books, but because they were borrowed, I’m waiting now for my own copies to arrive so I can keep reading them: My Sister’s Hand in Mine: The Collected Works of Jane Bowles (with an introduction by Truman Capote) and The Habit of Being: Letters of Flannery O’Connor.
Not as concretely deliverable, per se, but of no less importance, I also: made six new friends; let two turtles cross the road to safety in front of my stopped car; enjoyed almost daily the best fried chicken I have ever eaten; sampled chocolate from Madagascar and rum from Haiti, unexpected gifts from one of my new friends; watched the sun and the moon rise; explored an antiques mall; met two dogs, one of whom liked me, the other of whom was utterly indifferent to my presence; wept and belly-laughed in turn at the astonishing stories of some of the smartest, ballsiest, funniest women I’ve ever met; witnessed how fireflies turn into stars in the tall, tall treetops; learned that I don’t care for red blend wines “with a raspberry finish”; watched two hummingbirds fight over a single feeder; explored a tiny graveyard; saw a double rainbow after a storm; spent approximately 20 hours rocking on a wide, comforting porch; got lost and found my way home again; mourned a dead lizard and welcomed meeting a live one; climbed 26 creaking wooden stairs approximately 8 times a day for 10 days; made and consumed roughly 500 ice cubes the “old-fashioned way”; listened to a donkey braying and a rooster crowing; got down on my knees and prayed in a tender, old, empty church; and felt an unseen hand clasp my ankle and hold it, ever so gently, my last night in the otherwise empty bedroom on the third floor of a very wise and very welcoming house.
So there you have it, an exhaustive (though by no means complete) list of “how I spent my writing retreat” this summer. I am utterly indebted both to “Saint Trudy,” Porches founder, and to Nancy Zafris, for thinking enough of my work to give me those 10 days, and I am excited to continue working on my collection; I hope they’ll someday find it was a worthy investment.
The news cycle since my last post has been so fast and furious, it’s been difficult to find the mental space to try to write anything new lately. That’s why I’m so happy that something else furious is about to explode into the world now: a brand-spanking-new anthology, Furious Gravity, set to launch next month. There will be a virtual launch event through Politics and Prose bookstore on May 10 at 3:00 PM ET. Want to join us? Register here!
“Furious Gravity is the long-awaited ninth volume of the “Grace and Gravity” series, a literary journal devoted to women writers in the DC region. This volume will be the second edited by Melissa Scholes Young, a DC writer and associate professor at American University, who has taken over from founder Richard Peabody (Gargoyle and Paycock Press). Scholes Young delivers a gorgeous and vivid volume of fifty vibrant voices. Her vision for the ninth volume is a platform in which women write about the gravitational forces that bind them together or push them apart. Fury is useful fuel as they respond to a world they wish was more just. Amidst the darkness provided in generous and unrelenting doses by the current political climate, this collection delivers a compilation of stories and essays with undeniable pull – and, of course, grace.”
And for some miraculous reason, they’ve decided to include my short story, “Control,” in this collection! I am beyond grateful and excited–I’m actually careening straight into Sally Field territory. I’m so humbled to be considered part of this community of fierce, brilliant, passionate women writers. It feels just about as unreal to me as our continuing quarantine does at times, so I can’t wait–CANNOT WAIT–to get my hot, little, disbelieving hands on my copy, just to prove to myself that yes, it’s real, this is really happening.
Many thanks to our editor, Melissa Scholes Young, for making this beautiful collection a reality. You are a bright, furious star to so many of us; I’m utterly beholden to you for your faith in my work.
WATCH THE FURIOUS GRAVITY TRAILER HERE
REGISTER TO ATTEND THE FURIOUS GRAVITY (VIRTUAL) LAUNCH PARTY HERE
PRE-ORDER/ORDER YOUR COPY HERE
It’s 1931, and the trial of the infamous mobster Al Capone is getting under way.
A little history first: The list of things “everyone knew” this guy Capone had done, or had ordered done, was lengthy: gambling, racketeering, bribery, blackmail, murder, assaults, prostitution; bootlegging. But although “everyone knew” these things—knew exactly how dangerous Capone was and how many people (cops, judges, etc., people who should’ve been protecting society from him) were actively working to protect him instead, either willingly for personal profit or unwillingly out of fear of consequences—”knowing” those things didn’t translate to proving them in court. So, out of all those terrible things “everyone knew” he’d done but couldn’t prove in a court of law, to stop him, what did authorities finally nail Capone for? Contempt of court (for ignoring a subpoena, a charge later dismissed), tax evasion, and prohibition charges.
Are you kidding? An actual mob leader, a criminal that brutal, that powerful, and the best they could do was tax evasion and contempt, maybe selling a little booze under the counter? Pah. Hardly crimes at all, compared to the horrible things they could have charged him with. So why didn’t they charge him with those things? Because those tiny, relatively insignificant charges were the things they could actually prove. He was that slippery, that protected.
So it’s 1931, and you’re sitting in your living room listening to the news on the radio, and a guy from the prosecutor’s office working the Capone case, the guy who may ultimately be responsible for presenting the charges to the jury against Capone, is giving an interview to a reporter. He, this prosecutor, says this about the upcoming trial:
“Everything I do during this I’m coordinating with Capone’s counsel. There will be no difference between Mr. Capone’s position and our position as to how to handle this.”
Wait, what?! The prosecutor? As in, the guy responsible for convincing a jury of those charges against Capone? Actively coordinating the case…with Capone? You shake your head in disbelief. Man, that guy really has his fingers in deep—he’s got everyone in his pocket, you think. But at least there’s going to be a jury, you tell yourself, so for a hot second, you feel a little better.
But then, before you’ve even stopped shaking your head, another man starts to speak. The reporter identifies him as the jury foreman in the case. The foreman says this:
“This thing will come to the court, and it will die quickly, and I will do everything I can to make it die quickly…[I’m] trying to give a pretty clear signal I have made up my mind. I’m not trying to pretend to be a fair juror here. What I see coming, happening today, is just nonsense.”
What?! Are you kidding me? You leap to your feet. This guy’s even got the jury? You holler at the radio. Before it even goes to trial, before a single witness has even been called? Why doesn’t the judge do something? We all “know” this guy is guilty, we’ve seen the terrible things he’s done—this is our chance to put this guy away, and you’re blowing it! You’re pacing now, agitated and afraid. You’ve heard terrible stories of shake downs and massacres, seen the random violence in the street. If we don’t stop Capone now, you fear, he’ll think he can get away with anything! You put your head in your hands and wonder what will become of your world now if no one can stop this guy. Isn’t there anyone who can?
Two months later, your fears are realized, when, after the shortest trial in Cook County history, with not a single witness called, Al Capone is unanimously acquitted of all charges. The celebration of Capone’s release that night by his supporters (some still in uniform, and at least two of his jurors) lasts into the wee hours of the morning; four “innocent” bystanders, one reputedly a member of Capone’s rival North Sider gang, are “accidentally” gunned down by celebrants, who remain at large. The next day, Capone returns to his office where he poses for newspaper photos with the jury foreman, the mayor, the attorney general, and the police chief. They are all cigars and smiles.
You probably already know I made some things up here; that isn’t what actually happened with Capone. In June 1931, Capone, confident of his tremendous power and the terror-and-greed-induced loyalty of his crime organization, boasted to the press that he’d been able to make a deal for a shorter sentence than he was facing on those “flimsy” charges. The judge, thankfully, wasn’t having any of that baloney and informed Capone he was not bound by any deal. In response, Capone changed his plea to not guilty, but to no avail: he was later convicted on those lesser charges, served seven of the eleven years in prison to which he was ultimately sentenced, and died in 1947 of syphilis-related complications. His crime spree was over, because people of integrity and courage stood up and said, “Nope. Not happening on my watch.” Can you tell which parts I made up, though? Go back and look. I’ll wait…
Did you spot them yet? I’ll give you a clue: it was something to do with the radio interviews. Oh! Now you’ve got it! Those were pretty convincing, weren’t they? Like, right out of The Untouchables or Goodfellas, yeah? Well, I’m flattered you think I’m that creative, but I can’t take credit for them, because I didn’t actually make those up. Those are real quotes. No, I swear! What I made up was the sources for the quotes. They’re not from the prosecutor and the jury foreman in the Capone trial. Heck, they’re not actually from 1931—they’re from 2019.
Here are the actual original quotes:
“…trying to give a pretty clear signal I have made up my mind. I’m not trying to pretend to be a fair juror here. What I see coming, happening today, is just a partisan nonsense.”
“This thing will come to the Senate, and it will die quickly, and I will do everything I can to make it die quickly.”
—Senator Lindsey Graham
“Everything I do during this I’m coordinating with White House Counsel. There will be no difference between the President’s position and our position as to how to handle this.”
—Senator and Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell
You can see now, all I did was pull out things about the president and the White House and the Senate; the rest of the quotes are word-for-word. Do you see it now, see how terrible what those two men said sounds? I hope you do, because, sadly, I didn’t make up our current situation, either:
We have, at this moment, in a position of great and awful power, a man who “everyone knows” has done terrible things with that power, a man who is being protected either willingly (for personal gain like money or re-election promises) or out of fear of consequences (being fired by the president, being publicly humiliated or harassed by the president and his minions, losing re-election bids, etc.) by other powerful people who should be protecting the country (us) from him.
But of course, just as with Capone, “knowing” all these horrifying things isn’t enough; the authorities (in this case, the U.S. House of Representatives) have to “prove” (kind of like an indictment in a criminal trial) he’s done something that rises to the level of an impeachable crime, even if it’s not for crimes some consider “big enough,” and so they have: they have clearly proven obstruction of Congress and abuse of power. Those charges might seem (to some) to be small and insignificant compared to the other things we all “know” the man’s done (Emoluments and Hatch Act violations, rape, harassment, outright fraud), but they are, as demonstrated in the House Intelligence and Judiciary committees, provable beyond a shadow of a doubt—and they are things no president should be allowed to get away with. I don’t care if it’s Trump or Obama or Clinton or Reagan. The president in office now is Trump, so that’s the one I care about. The others I really don’t give a damn about litigating, because their ability to do any significant damage is pretty limited by the fact that they ARE NOT THE CURRENT PRESIDENT.
So now these “lesser” charges are heading to our nation’s political (not criminal) court system, the Senate, for what is supposed to be a fair and impartial trial; the senators even have a special oath they take for these proceedings, on top of their original oath of office:
“I solemnly swear (or affirm, as the case may be,) that in all things appertaining to the trial of the impeachment of ___, now pending, I will do impartial justice according to the Constitution and laws: so help me God.” [source: https://www.senate.gov/artandhistory/history/resources/pdf/1_1868ImpeachmentRules.pdf]
But how can we the People ever hope to get a fair and impartial trial when the accused (Trump) and the jurors (Senators Graham and McConnell, at least publicly) have openly boasted to the press about making a deal (“coordinating”) with the accused’s counsel and about the fact that they’re not even trying to pretend to be fair jurors? If our senators won’t protect us from this kind of abuse of power, not just by the president, but also by some of their own colleagues (THE JURORS IN THIS TRIAL), the very people who are supposed to be our last line of defense against presidential abuses, who will?
What will become of our world if no one stops this guy? Isn’t there anyone who can?
I’ll tell you who can stop this guy, friends: it’s US, We the People. We have to protect our country now with all the tools we have available to us, one of which is demanding a fair and impartial hearing by the Senate. If you’ve been sitting on the sidelines, wringing your hands, bitching to family members or friends, throwing things at the TV screen, screaming your frustration into your pillow, knock it off. NOW is the time to actually act. This is no longer just about Trump’s abuse of power and obstruction of Congress. McConnell’s and Graham’s remarks make it perfectly clear that they, too, are beyond redemption; they absolutely cannot serve as fair and impartial jurors. They can no longer be trusted to represent the interests of our nation; they serve one interest only, and that is whatever Trump decides he wants them to do on any given day. If we don’t act now to stop them, We the People risk losing the power to do so ever again.
Pick up your damned phone. Call your representatives Call your senators. Call McConnell’s office. Call Graham’s office. If you can get to a march, get to a march. If you can’t march yourself, send a sign along with someone who can. SHOW UP NOW AND SHOW UP BIG. We are at a moment of terrible crisis and we need every person acting, because if we don’t stop these abuses of power now, we are giving these abusers and every craven, arrogant, dishonest, self-dealing, destructive leader who comes after them permission to abuse us all, however they choose, because they will no longer have any consequences to fear.
The time to act is now. Below are steps you can take:
If you can, join an Impeach & Remove March. Enter your zip code to find one near you; if there isn’t one near you, register to host one. https://www.impeach.org/event/impeach-and-remove-attend/search/?source=standupamerica-i&s=0
CONTACT CONGRESS: 202-224-3121. Don’t know who your representatives are? Just give them your zip code and they’ll connect you. Also, you can contact ANY representative or senator at this number, not just your own, but here are a few suggestions of individuals to single out:
CONTACT SENATOR LINDSEY GRAHAM: 202-224-5972
https://www.lgraham.senate.gov/public/index.cfm/e-mail-senator-graham
CONTACT SENATOR MITCH MCCONNELL: 202-224-2541
https://www.mcconnell.senate.gov/public/index.cfm?p=ContactForm
REACH OUT TO OTHER GOP SENATORS WHO MAY VOTE FOR COUNTRY OVER TRUMP:
ROMNEY, COLLINS, MURKOWSKI
And remember:
it’s hard to believe, but we had our final reading for 2019 last month, and I’m already making plans for 2020’s readings! I have been humbled by the talent and gifts each of the beautiful writers who joined us this inaugural year brought: their wit and humor, their courage and honesty, their passion and generosity are boundless, and it was a joy to welcome each of them.
My goal for 2020 is to grow a little bigger with each reading, so if you haven’t joined us yet, as a writer or as an audience member, I hope you’ll take a look at the 2020 dates and make some time to come out and show the writers in our community some love–I can promise, you won’t regret it. If you have already joined us, I hope to see you again soon.
Wishing all of you peace and love and purpose in 2020!
#MoCoUnderground #holdyourlighthigh #welovewriters
