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By: Richard Louth Publication: The Quarterly, Vol. 24, No. 1 Date: Winter 2002 Summary: Louisiana site director Richard Louth describes the magic, and anxiety, of leading a writing marathon. While revealing that things do go wrong, he admits surprising success and offers tips for conducting a marathon, writing prompts, and excerpts of participants' writing. Café du Monde and the click and clanging of the glasses and silverware. One of the few places where they greet you with a glass of water. —Trish Benit, 2001 The sexy yak of a saxophone drifts into the Café du Monde, mixing with the beat of ceiling fans and the smell of hot, powdered beignets. Across the street, two children tap-dance for quarters while a third spins a bicycle wheel on his head, the spokes a gray halo in the humid air. A horse-drawn carriage clops by St. Louis Cathedral while a mime dressed as Uncle Sam freezes in midstride outside the café window. Inside, teachers gingerly sip café au lait, knock excess sugar off their beignets, and stare at the world outside. Despite their good spirits, I see anxiety in their expressions. What are we doing here? they seem to ask. Usually by 10 a.m., members of our Southeastern Louisiana Writing Project (SLWP) summer institute are comfortably enclosed in a room on the other side of the swamps. And we have already finished journal writing, someone has shared the log, and one nervous summer fellow is launching into a ninety-minute teaching demonstration. But today we are embracing the unfamiliar in our surroundings, and ourselves, through a field trip we call the New Orleans Writing Marathon. In the Beginning: Natalie Goldberg's Marathon Our first writing marathon took place on much more familiar soil in 1992, when one summer institute participant, Melanie Plesh, introduced us to her practice of journaling with students and to Natalie Goldberg's Writing Down the.
Nationality: Romanian-American. Born: Sibiu, Romania, 1946. Career: Visiting assistant professor, Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore, 1979-80; visiting professor, Naropa Institute, Boulder, Colorado; professor of English, Louisiana State University, Baton Rouge, 1984—; regular commentator on National Public Radio's All Things Considered. Awards: Big Table Younger Poets Award, 1970; National Endowment for the Arts fellowships, 1973, 1983; Pushcart Prize, 1980, 1983; A. D. Emmart Humanities Award, 1982; National Public Radio fellowship, 1983; Towson University Prize for Literature, 1983; General Electric/CCLM Poetry Award, 1985; American Romanian Academy of Arts and Sciences Book Award, 1988; George Foster Peabody Award (San Francisco Film Festival), best documentary film, 1995; best documentary film award, Seattle Film Festival, 1995; Cine Award, 1995; Golden Eagle Award, 1995; ACLU Civil Liberties Award, 1995; Romanian National Foundation Literature Award, 1996. Agent: Jonathan Lazear, 930 First Avenue North, Suite 416, Minneapolis, Minnesota 55401, U.S.A. PUBLICATIONS Novels The Repentance of Lorraine. New York, Pocket Books, 1976. The Blood Countess. New York, Simon & Schuster, 1995. Messiah. New York, Simon & Schuster, 1999. Short Stories Why I Can't Talk on the Telephone. San Francisco, Kingdom KumPress, 1972. Monsieur Teste in America and Other Instances of Realism. Minneapolis, Coffee House Press, 1987. Poetry License to Carry a Gun. Chicago, Big Table/Follett, 1970. The Here What Where. San Francisco, Isthmus Press, 1972. And Grammar and Money. Berkeley, California, Arif Press, 1973. A Serious Morning. Santa Barbara, California, Capra Press, 1973. The History of the Growth of Heaven. New York, George Braziller, 1973. A Mote Suite for Jan and Anselm. San Francisco, Stone Pose Art, 1976. For the Love of a Coat. Boston, Four Zoas Press, 1978. The Lady Painter.
 Andrei Codrescu born in Sibiu, Transylvania, Romania, emigrated to the U.S in 1966. His first poetry book, License to Carry a Gun, won the 1970 Big Table Poetry award. He founded Exquisite Corpse: a Journal of Books & Ideas (corpse.org) in 1983, taught literature and poetry at Johns Hopkins University, University of Baltimore, and Louisiana State University where he was MacCurdy Distinguished Professor of English. He'a been a regular commentator on NPR's All Things Considered since 1983, and received a Peabody Award for writing and starring in the film Road Scholar. In 1989 he returned to his native Romania to cover the fall of the Ceausescu regime for NPR and ABC News, and wrote The Hole in the Flag: an Exile's Story of Return and Revolution. He is the author of books of poetry, novels, essays; the most recent are So Recently Rent a World : New and Selected Poems (Coffee House, 2012), Bibliodeath: my Archives (with Life in Footnotes) (Antibookclub, 2012), whatever gets you through the night: a story of sheherezade and the arabian entertainments (Princeton University Press, 2011), The Posthuman Dada Guide: Tzara and Lenin Play Chess, (Princeton University Press, 2009), and The Poetry Lesson (Princeton University Press, 2010). BOOKS: 2012: So Recently Rent a World: New and Selected Poems, 1968-2012 (Coffee House Press) 2012: Bibliodeath: My Archives (with Life in Footnotes) (Antibookclub) 2011: whatever gets you through the night: a story of sheherezade and the arabian entertainments (Princeton University Press) 2010: The Poetry Lesson (Princeton University Press) 2009: The Posthuman Dada Guide: Tzara and Lenin Play Chess (Princeton University Press) 2009: The Forgiven Submarine, by Ruxandra Cesereanu and Andrei Codrescu (Black Widow Press) 2008: Jealous Witness: New Poems (Coffee House Press) with CD, Into the Maelstrom by The New Orleans Klezmer AllStars, featuring.
Well. At first I was amazed by the sheer speed of Andrei Codrescu's prose; I felt like I was on a bus in a foreign city, hurtling through narrow and unfamiliar streets and just hanging on for dear life, but somehow enjoying it almost despite myself. The first essay in this book, Against Photography , veers wildly between his parents' relationship, which disintigrated sometime in between his conception and his birth, the existential experience of having his photograph taken by his mother as a ch Well. At first I was amazed by the sheer speed of Andrei Codrescu's prose; I felt like I was on a bus in a foreign city, hurtling through narrow and unfamiliar streets and just hanging on for dear life, but somehow enjoying it almost despite myself. The first essay in this book, Against Photography , veers wildly between his parents' relationship, which disintigrated sometime in between his conception and his birth, the existential experience of having his photograph taken by his mother as a child, and growing up in socialist Romania. It is perhaps summed up by this sentence: The photographer, who is the watcher, is always the parent, the subject is the child, and the end result is always Stalin. There is wit and verve, startling connectivity, and an almost refreshing lack of concern for expectations. I loved it.The rest of the book was, for me, a slight letdown after the first essay. There were other selections that I greatly enjoyed--especially the ruminations on television culture (or lack thereof) and the travel essays at the very end--but there were also essays that literally gave me headaches, perhaps also an admirable talent to exercise within the span of five or six pages. The nimbleness that initially enthralled me eventually just made me feel tired, the way an extended adrenaline rush will leave you limp and drained. I'd read more of his writing, but perhaps as an.