Mike Karpa

Criminals launched as an ebook and paperback from Mumblers Press in October 2021 (or September, depending on who you ask). I nervously awaited the review from Kirkus Reviews, which was then in process. When it came out, I was all smiles. It was great! And when I looked it up on the Kirkus website, lo and behold, that review had a star. The full review is kind of spoilery, so I will just excerpt a part of it below:

Karpa’s comic noir has the feel of an Elmore Leonard novel, with colorful grifters and creeps tangled in tawdry machinations in a vividly rendered demimonde. Tokyo is a vibrant setting of traditional niceties and crass modernity, where “the diesel-scented air flowing freely into [Conner’s] lungs felt excellent.” The mysteries are psychological and spiritual as well as conspiratorial, as much about Conner’s thoughts about his sexuality and Marika’s longing “to see the vastness of the earth” as they are about drug-smuggling schemes. Karpa renders amusing action and intricate procedures in spare, observant, and mordantly funny prose that finds meaning in every gesture, as when a woman bows “too low, as women her age always seemed to do, as though competing for a national title in submission.” Readers will root for Conner and Marika to make it through…

Purty good stuff!

This memoir piece –Do You Have a Plan — may be the most personal thing I’ve ever done. It has been up on Foglifter’s site as a Foglifter Feature for some time now, but here’s the link in case you’ve missed it: https://foglifterjournal.com/2021/04/25/do-you-have-a-plan-by-mike-karpa/

Thanks for publishing it, Foglifter!

I am looking forward to giving a minor assist with this program, hosted by the delightful Anshu Johri who’s work I know from Play on Words, where she both reads (as an actor) and is read (her work by others). (I’ll be reading the Japanese originals for three poems translated into Hindi.) 8pm on Sep 26. Email bauchhaar@gmail.com for an invite!

This iteration of Perfectly Queer reading series features two authors I’ve read before, Jim Provenzano and Rob Rosen. Via Zoom Tuesday, September 29, 7pm to 8:15pm.

https://www.facebook.com/events/383981355930009

And now it’s live! Oyster River Pages is up, including my story “Scarce Adjusted in the Tomb” among a host of wonderful stuff from many genres. I am already well into reading through it–starting with fiction, as I do–and finding so many great reads. I may even start hopping around into the poetry and non-fiction, just out of curiosity, before I get to the end of fiction, because I have a hankering. So many words, so little time.

A story that appeared on the page many years ago in a very different incarnation for the fiction workshop at Stanford’s Continuing Studies has found a home! “Scarce Adjusted in the Tomb ” will appear this September in Oyster River Pages. This is especially welcome news in that I’ve become a professor again–teaching a graduate course at Kent State–so writing really hasn’t got the attention I want it to. (My writing activity has mainly been focused on the rewrite of The Wealthy Whites of Williamsburg, last year’s NaNoWriMo effort.)

The latest iteration of “Scarce” is darker than any yet, completely eschewing a traditional happy ending (Go ahead: Don’t grow! Run away!)–so I am amazed it didn’t provoke the opposite response–turning away in disgust. But it’s nagged at me all these years so I guess it nagged at someone else as well!

Thanks again to Julia Halprin Jackson, Melinda Marks and Nicole Hughes for putting on another wonderful afternoon of readings at Play On Words’ second appearance at the San José Museum of Art in downtown San José. I guess I have been at this long enough that I am able to focus on the readings that come before mine (also a function of the fact that the readings are by actors, not authors?). Great crop of work, folks!

That includes the Museum’s Robin Treen and Frederick Liang, videographer Ryan Alpers and photographer Branden Frederick. Plus authors Anshu Johri (who was also a reader), Ann Hillesland (who has a new book out!), Marilyn Horn, Gerardo Pacheco Matus ( great to meet you!), Mairead Brodie, Jody Ulate, Tania Martin (of Flash Fiction Forum fame), Arcadia Conrad (another double winner–er, not in the 12-step sense), Leah Griesmann, and E.D.Southard. And nothing beats having your piece read by an actor. Many thanks also to Peter Ray Juarez, Muse Lee, Melinda Marks, Ronald Feichtmeir, and Erin Southard.

Finally, it was an honor to have my piece, read with brio by Keenan Flagg, close the show. The piece was a stripped down version of “Because of Course: An Award-winning Story” (yes, that’s the title), a meta-fiction that appeared last summer in Tahoma Literary Review. And the expanded version is entering final edits. Yes, it has turned into a novel: The Wealthy Whites of Williamsburg. Coming in 2021 or 2022 to this site, if I can get my act together on self-publishing?

The drama in the workshop was not in my mind! I gave a “waiter” a ride to the airport and she gave me the skinny on an interpersonal drama taking place. It had nothing to do with me not understanding that one piece. Lesson made available (I will not say learned): off behavior in one’s proximity is rarely about you. (Exception: If you suspect someone treating you oddly is homophobic–no eye contact, refusal to engage anything you say while enthusiastically engaging the straight people in the vicinity–they probably are. Beware the gaslight.)

So as I leave I commit myself to doing the persistent thing: I will contact the agents, the editors, etc., I will submit work, I will show up for events, I will communicate with people I have met here. What I don’t come away with is optimism. I’ve been through the mill already, and one big lesson here has been that sometimes it’s time to move on. It’s been wonderful to be taken seriously by people I respect, and who are way more accomplished than I am. But the reality is there are many voices fighting for the light (here, voices are plants larded with chlorophyll, waiting to grow). Mine is a niche voice, with a not-so-profitable audience.

But I like it.

I like to write. I don’t think I was deluded about Red Dot; I think I was happy with it! It’s a fun book and I could tell other people enjoyed it and that really floats my boat! The actual writing, that keeps my hope alive. That’s where I am optimistic. I can produce the books I want to read but cannot find. So… maybe I really do channel my time and energy into a more practical direction: self publishing. After all, light falls everywhere, and there is no reason I can’t grab some too.

Oh yeah, a tad exhausted. All the workshops are over, I’ve stalked the reception desk waiting for the new delivery of Vermont maple syrup to take home for Tom, it’s arrived and been mailed, as have postcards to my writing group, many more conversations have been had. Pages have been dispatched, duty-free Toblerone consumed. (I arrived with a stash of nuts to snack on, which has been invaluable. The snacks provided are fresh fruit, which normally would be great, but apparently I have recently become fructose intolerant, so I can’t have any. I will discover when I get home that I have lost six pounds.)

Being here has been steadily improving day by day and I am happy I came. Thanks for encouraging me, everyone. (I banish thoughts of the credit card bill from my mind.) Tonight’s dinner has been consumed and my dining companions are gone. I am enjoying doing nothing. It has been a lot of work. The amount of effort that goes into this is considerable for participants and organizers. And I am not blowing off tonight’s final reading. The last reading to this point was an afternoon session of contributors–46 participants back to back, one minute each. Was great. Of course, there seems to have been a wee bit of drama in the workshop–did I offend two of the other writers? There was one piece that I just did not get. Not at all. I think I was the only one. Damn, I tried on that one! I am hoping this is in my mind.

So, this has been entertaining. This has been great. And I wouldn’t do it again.

Unless I would.

I had my workshop. All went well. Red Dot has some fans! The feedback was consistent, clear and doable. Very positive–almost scarily so–with no major issues. The way forward is clear and not fraught. That was fun! I later had my one-on-one meeting with Ana Menéndez, and that was great as well. Maybe I am being too relaxed. Later, when I get home, I will go over the feedback and realize one person really didn’t like Red Dot, and I completely missed that. This is so odd: normally I latch onto the criticisms, but here I am finding this so pleasant I am likely deluded. Still, pleasant!

I also had my fifteen minutes with the agent. I talked with her extensively about the India book. I told her about the others, too, but she came back to that time after time. It caught her interest, while also being unsalable. Her idea: treatment for a Netflix India series. That’s certainly an original and smart idea. The down side: It would be a lot of work, on spec, with an extremely poor chance of success. Much as I admire people who commit to that, I am getting up there in years and a key question is how do I want to spend my time?

So that’s where we are now. I am doing wash and the reading is in three hours. The reading has kept me up for several nights, but now I feel ready. 

The reading just ended. I went first, with the opening of “Do You Have A Plan,” rewritten twelve times or so. I made use of the lessons of Patrick Donnelly’s session on reading your own work: be louder than you think you need to be, you are there to be interesting to the listeners, use your finger to track your position on the page so you can look up and then back down at the page, DO look up every so often, say your own name clearly, remember that no one is really listening for the first six seconds or so (I used that to do a mini intro of the piece), try to engage both the chest register and the head register (I think my nasal register is largely absent, the opposite of what I had expected). I was well rehearsed, having nearly memorized the piece.

It went great. People laughed at the right spots. Someone even gasped at one point. I could have looked up more, as always, but the applause sounded so genuine and loud and kept going on. Are you kidding me? I had been worried about being boring, and now this? I became embarrassed by it and cut it off by introducing the fabulous Celeste Chan, who followed me. I then got to sit down. Having read already, I was able to take in everyone else’s reading. I’ve met most of the readers, and by meet I mean had a chance to really talk to. I guess I really gravitated toward the other LGBTQ+ people without realizing it. So much good stuff. This was so fun to be a part of. The highlight of the conference for me, for sure, to be part of this event with these people. On cloud nine.

I feel much more welcomed. There are still the same hierarchies and competitive layers (all very explicit, which honestly makes it much more OK), but being part of that group, and so well received, was heartwarming. The crowd size was close to 200. It was the one reading for “contributors” (that’s the lowest rung) that also included “fellows” (2) and “scholars” (1? 2? 3?). No, wait, the people of color reading tomorrow will also be like that. I did not expect that I would put so little mental energy into the pages I brought to workshop (literally no real worries) and so much mental energy (literally waking up at 3AM sweating that I would embarrass myself by with three minutes of boring, forrgettable prose) into these three minutes: Rewriting, retyping, taking the class on speaking your work, rewriting, reading aloud out on the grass, in our room, sitting on a washing machine, rewriting. And rewriting. And, shockingly, I was almost comfortable up there, performing. It feels more important than the agent/editor meetings.

We have two more days of workshops, with two big-name readings and a dinner, then done. Lots more work to do—getting up early to go over other people’s manuscripts again tomorrow and the next day!!!!