Straightforward Words from a Straightforward Boy

This conversation took place yesterday:

Max: Dad, can I talk to you?

Me: Sure, buddy.

Max: There are three things I know about you, Dad.

Me: Yeah?

Max: Your skin is the same color as mine.

Me: True.

Max: You have blue eyes.

Me: Yes.

Max: And some of your teeth are green.


Suddenly dental hygiene became a higher priority . . .

Gospel Challenge

"Because of this reality of disobedience, the Gospel will always be experienced as a challenge. It will challenge the mind, for it confronts false belief with the truth. It will challenge the will, for it cuts to the core of our insistence on turning away from God and going our own way. It will challenge our heart, for for our hearts are devoted to many masters in place of the one true Lord."

---Jerram Barrs, The Heart of Evangelism, p. 267.

Whither Joy and Slavery?

Welcome to "Wherever I Am," the blog formerly known as "Joy and Slavery," which was formerly known as "The Lazy Logician." Back when I started the first incarnation of this blog I wanted to focus on philosophical issues with occasional forays into every day life topics. I did that for a while, but my interests shifted to theology. In the interest of appropriate signage I changed the blog to "Joy and Slavery," which I took to be a "theologically friendly" title. A friend told me it sounded a bit more like a blog for masochists, but the title hung around until this year.

After graduating from seminary (and failing to get into an MFA program) I realized that I had a problem: my interests are too diverse. I kept waiting for something to hook me and keep me forever, but now I realize it's not going to happen. There is no ONE THING that will be my eternal writing topic.

I like fiction, but I also like essays. I like theology, but I also like philosophy. I like football, indie rock, comic books, serious lit, etc. I suppose most of us are like this, but I needed this blog to be a place where I could feel free to write on any of those topics.

So the name change happened. The title "Wherever I Am" can be taken in a few ways.
First, the "Wherever I Am" could be interpreted as allowing a day-to-day topic shift. I'll write from wherever I happen to "be" mentally that day. There is, however, a sort of back door theological reference some of you may have noticed.

In Exodus 3 the Lord told Moses to that his name was "I AM." The second way to think of the blog's new title is to stick a comma in the middle. "Wherever, I AM." In other words, I don't know where you're taking me, but that's where I want to go, Lord.

And that's the way I want to live life: pursuing the interests that God has given me with his direction serving as the backbone.

So, wherever I am I say, "Wherever, I AM."

Good Eating

Good Eating: A poem about sin.

Sin is a many-toothed mouth;
broad, flat, and iron black.
grinding, crushing, cursed.

Sin is a many-toothed mouth;
wet edges glistening,
broken like glass

Sin is a many toothed mouth;
we gorge tooth to tooth and forget
it is not food if it eats you back.

Still More Applications

I completed a cluster of applications over the Christmas/New Year's holiday season. The candidates are:

Indiana University






















Another Big 10 school not quite in the top tier, but very close. In terms of program quality and funds, Indiana would be tough to turn down. Not that I would turn them down . . . it would just be tough.


UNC-Greensboro

UNC-Greensboro is a good solid program. The funding is good, though not every student gets a stipend as I understand it, and I have heard very good things about the atmosphere cultivated there. It's also much closer to the beach than we have ever lived, so Mary Ann would be pleased with that.

The University of Michigan

Michigan ranks up there with the best of the best in the MFA world. Another tough admit for me, but it doesn't hurt to apply, right?


Washington University in St. Louis
























'Wash U,' as it's known, is one of the best academic schools in the country. The MFA does not rank in the top tier, but is still highly regarded. They get fewer applicants, so that's good for me, and they're more known for poetry than fiction. That also works in my favor. It would also mean a mere cross-town move, so that would be less expensive.

University of Iowa


















The granddaddy of them all. The first Creative Writing MFA. Flannery O'Connor's MFA. The MFA that has the spectacular Marilynne Robinson on staff. I don't reckon I'd shred that acceptance letter if I got it.

Nearly there. Just a few applications left to go. Then it's that horrible waiting game.

Another Application Completed

Sent in another submission. Add this one to the list:


























Roll tide and stuff.

The Submissions have Begun

The first two applications are away.

UT-Austin

The Michener Center at Texas, my friends, is one of the most selective MFA programs in this good US of A. Few slots, lots of applicants. Texas is attractive for several reasons: you don't have to teach, the professors are quite good, and the stipend is absolutely unbelievable. Plus there is an excellent screenwriting program that I could basically 'minor' in.


The University of Illinois

Illinois is still in the 'up and coming' category as far as I know. They are one of the programs from the 'Big 10' that have cropped up in recent years and instantly made a splash. I feel like I stand a better chance here than Texas, but they are still fairly discriminating.

So that's it for now. Only 12 more programs to submit applications to. Easy as pie.

Max Duncan, Literary Giant

In case you're wondering, the previous post is indeed a story dictated by my story-tellin' son, Maxwell Isaiah Duncan. Getting into the family business already . . .

Max and Dad, Kamen Riders by Max Duncan

Max and Dad wanted to go outside to fish with their own fishing rods. When it was night, they went to bed and went to sleep and when they woke up in the morning they wanted to fish again. When they saw their skin they got so scared of their skin that they tried to get it off but it wouldn’t come off because it was hero skin!

When Max saw himself he looked like a knight from his favorite TV show and his Dad didn’t know what it was. It was called ‘Kamen Rider’ and when Max saw what it was he knew what it was. It was called ‘Strike Knight.’ When Max saw his Dad his Dad looked like ‘Thrust Knight.’ When they saw different cards, Max started to look like his Dad. Then Max started to look like his brother Finn, who was ‘Sting Knight.’ Max’s Dad started to look like his son Leo who was ‘Wing Knight.’

When Leo and Max did ‘Kamen Rider’ training, Max won and Leo hit his back on a wall and erased away. Then guns came drifting down from the sky that go on ‘Torque Knight’s’ shoulders. Max’s Dad decided to keep them.

Something drifted down from the sky. It was ‘Siren Knight’s’ sword, and Max decided to have it. And then something else drifted down from the sky. It was ‘Siren Knight’s’ staff, and Max’s Dad decided to keep it.

The ‘Dragon Knight’ that Clem is, is red. There was another ‘Dragon Knight’ that wanted to fight Clem. This one was called ‘Shadow Dragon Knight.’ They had a surprise. Four of the decks had persons from inside and first came Finn, Mom, Clem and Leo. Then they started attacking Max and Dad. General Zaviax tricked them. General Zaviax made them come back. When they got General Zaviax out of Kamen Rider Ray, they put him back together in his regular Kamen Rider form. And then when they started fighting four of them they tried and tried and Max and Dad won! When they erased away again the older son knew how to bring them back and they all attacked General Zaviax and they put him back in his home.

MFA Anxiety

Microsoft Office is downloading an update to the ol' computer. So I'm going to flex my writing muscles on the blog this morning. This has been a jam-packed semester, so blogging has been a low priority for the last couple of months. Now, though, I'm going to take advantage of this lull to blog about my anxieties. Hooray!!!

Things are going fairly well for my MFA application process at this point. The GRE is over and done with, I have two out of three people I need to recommend me, and I'm actually staying on top of the process. I have two stories I like and am working on a third. All of these are good.

However . . . I am constantly having to pray about the subjectivity of MFA admissions. You can write an excellent story, but if the wrong people don't like your stuff, you're out of luck. In a recent article in Poets and Writers Benjamin Percy (an excellent writer, in my opinion) mentioned that one of his stories was rejected for publication 39 times. Once it was finally published, Salman Rushdie picked it as an honorable mention for Best American Short Stories. That was a happy ending for Benjamin, but my mind keeps going back to the strong possibility that I won't have a 'Salman Rusdie.'

I suppose it's a good thing that these thoughts move me to pray, but I think it would be better to just not be anxious. "Be anxious for nothing" and all that. I think the anxiety rises from a few sources:

1. I've never been this uncertain about applying for anything. I was quite certain I would get into my undergrad schools and seminary. But for MFAs there are so many applicants and so few slots nationwide that the percentages are against me.

2. I've never wanted something as much as I want this, career-wise. This is the path I want to take, so not getting into the MFA would be a blow.

3. I don't have a good solid idea for what I would do in the immediate aftermath of 14 rejection letters. I reckon it would involve a hasty retreat to West Virginia, but what then? Apply again? Distance programs, maybe? What do I do in the meantime? I can teach, but how many jobs are there available for chaps like me?

All that said, I do have good reasons not to be anxious. I believe God called me in the direction of writing. That doesn't mean that I'm guaranteed an MFA slot, but it does mean that God is taking care of me. God surprises us sometimes (surprise, Paul! You've been bitten by a venomous snake!) but then he surprises again with his deliverance (the venom won't harm you. Surprise again!).

Thanks, God. I feel better.

Marshall vs. WVU

24-7: This is what happens when you fumble twice in the red zone.

Back to the C-USA schedule!

The Time Draws Near, The Writer Readies Himself . . . Kinda . . .

MFA application season approaches. I still don't feel like I have a great writing sample, but I've come to the conclusion I never will. I will never feel like I have written well enough until I get an acceptance letter, and even then I'll think, "whew, I snuck one past them." That's the trouble with finding your self-image as a writer in the opinions of others.

Honestly, I do think the stories I've written are good. The fact that not everyone agrees highlights the subjective nature of reading fiction. That's what makes me nervous about MFA applications. I can't be guaranteed a spot by just getting a certain score on the GRE (which I still need to take). I've been recently that I will just stop worrying about others opinions (within reason) and write what I believe God is leading to write.

The good news for today is that I finished the first draft of "Miracles for Americans." It needs a lot of work, but it's good to actually get to the end of a story. It's my longest story so far, coming in at 19 pages and around 7200 words, but I'm hoping to lop a bit of that off. So I'll be editing that and taking another pass at "Come on, Casper" to look over some changes I made a month or two ago. Hopefully I'll be able to communicate the humor I intended in"Miracles." I haven't had a lot of experience at humor writing, so we'll see how that goes. It'll never be a laugh riot, but I think it will have a lighter tone than "Casper."

Still Pluggin' Away

Just another productivity report:

I've been waking up at 5:30 am this week. On purpose. Mary Ann and I have been struggling to find a good time for me to write these days, and I think this is the best solution. I've tried to do the late night thing; it seems the more 'writerly' thing to do, right? Writers are supposed to stay up late to drink and be tortured by their demons. Unfortunately (?), my demons kept standing me up, so Mary Ann and I broke with our 1-2AM tradition and started hitting the sack at 11:00. Since then things hve gone much better in the writing department.

I FINALLY Got Arrested

So I finally gave in. After years of people telling me I should watch Arrested Development, Mary Ann and I rented the first DVD from the first season. The straw that broke the camel's back was the fact that the guys who do The Steelehouse Podcast named it as one of their top ten shows of the decade. You should check out that podcast, by the way. A thoughtful and enjoyable look at pop culture from a Christian perspective.

But back to the show: Typical. Really. I don't mean Arrested Development was typical. What's typical is that it was cancelled after three seasons. Good shows don't make it much longer than that. Mary Ann and I are joining the chorus. Arrested Development was quite hilarious.

For those of you who are slow to take recommendations like me, now is the time. Outside of 30 Rock I doubt there's a show that even approaches Arrested Development's level of hilarity. Quirky characters can get old quickly if poorly written, but the cast of Arrested Development, while quirky, never fail to surprise.

If you watch the show now, you can see how much of the writing and direction has pointed the way for comedies currently on the air. If you promise to watch the show that started the trend, then I promise to stop reviewing shows that have been of the air for six years.

A Breakfast Tragedy

I went to open my cereal this morning--a new box. Carefully, I pushed my finger underneath the cardboard tab. I gingerly scooted said finger to the right, in order to preserve the integrity of the cardboard tab. It helps in the resealing process.

But, as you might predict, my efforts were fruitless. My finger tore through that fragile box top as though passing through the air unimpeded. My cereal is compromised.

And THAT, my friends, is how you know that General Mills hates you.

Writerly Frustrations

If I could just write 1000 good words a day, I would be so happy that I would wet not just my pants, but everyone else's too.

Two Gross-Out Haikus

Here are two Gross-Out Haikus stemming from the same incident. I'm thinking of making these a significant part of my writing sample.

Finn's oranges, juice
and pizza revolt, dripping
down in my pocket

My Steeler's T-Shirt
Piled high with half-gnawed foodstuffs
The Superbowl one

He Thinks as He Types

I'm at the library right now. It's time to write, but I'm having a hard time bringing myself into the 'writerly mindset,' whatever that may be. It's that post-lunch energy dip, I guess. It's annoying because I have these times carved out to write every day, and if I don't do it now then I'll get nothing. But the ol' brain is in sleep mode.

Besides, I'm not sure what I'd write right now. I can always do VFO, but Rex is alerady working something I sent him a few days ago so I feel kinda 'caught up.' It's a dangerous feeling, but I'm going with it. I'd like to do some short story work, but I don't want to do any more editing on "Come On, Casper" until my group of readers give me their feedback (Thanks for yours, by the way, Mary Ann and Rex. You were both quite helpful). I could try and figure out a title, but I don't want to spend two hours on just that. I can brainstorm for titles while I clean at work tonight, or do my security runs.

I have a bunch of story ideas, but I don't want to work on another story where the protagonist is a jerk. I'd like to do something with a pleasant lead character, but I most of my ideas involve bad things happening big jerks. I do have one idea, though, that might fit the bill. But I've started on it before and it didn't feel right. All I have is a fairly bare concept. I guess I could work on plotting that story . . . I don't have to jump right into the first draft of the thing.

I think that's what I'll do. Thanks for helping me figure this stuff out, guys.

Joshua Duncan: Now with Productivity!!

It's only just June and already I feel like I've had a full summer. For one thing, I've been working a lot these days. Relatively speaking, I guess. My hours still don't equal full time employment. Still, it's more than I've worked (outside of class) since I got here. It's taken up a lot of time I would have liked to use for other good things (GRE study, writing, family time). But enough of the whiny stuff!

One great thing about this summer is the amount of time I've had to actually write--and the fact that I've utilized that time to do so. I've written the first couple of installments of the webcomic I'm doing with Rex Queems, and he e-mailed me today to express his excitement with them. That's always a bonus.

Not only that, but I've actually finished a story. An eleven pager, no less! I know of writers who could weave an eleven pager before breakfast, but nearly everything I've written fiction-wise has been fairly short. There were one or two longer pieces, but they got clunky and are in need of a good trim. So eleven pages is a good length for me. It gets me over halfway to a number of the page requirements for MFA applications as well, so that's bonus number two.

It's quite nice. After failing to write anything in the early months of this year I've made serious headway on a couple of long-standing projects. It's really a lovely feeling. I'm seriously reconsidering my love affair with procrastination.

"It's not you, sweetheart. It's me."

I like the sound of that.

Is Something Wrong With Me?

Mary Ann and I just watched the Tonys. Yes, the Tonys. That's the award show for plays and musicals and such. I can count the number of plays I've seen in my life on one hand. Maybe two if you count my elementary school glee club musicals. Why, then, did I watch the Tonys, which featured many people I've never heard of in my life? Dunno.

I liked it, though.

Except for the bit from Hair. I mean, I get it. Hippies were the greatest people ever. Can we move on now?