I know that if get myself out of the house to show up at writing events I'll learn things and get out of stuck places. This is true even if I don't like the writing or if the author is snooty. So when I do and they're not it's a lovely bonus.
Sarah Manguso has charged up my current writing life. Here I was writing yellow page after yellow page with snippets of memoir and struggling to make them longer, denser, fit into a plot - like chapters of a novel. That night I paged through Sarah's just-bought memoir while I waited for her to begin. Its structure flipped under my fingertips - short piece after short piece.
Now, I know all of this is obvious, but it was as if I was struck in the head and cartoon stars rang. The very next day I started typing the little yellow pad stories into the computer, each in their own, separate file, and I haven't stopped. I'm all loosey-goosey and easy with it. I don't worry. I don't try to make anything fit or flow. (Or I don't try much - I've not had a complete change of personality.)
Back to the Sarah Manguso evening. The segments she read from her memoir were good. And the short, short fiction stories she read blew me away. There's a collection of them in McSweeney's One Hundred Forty Five Stories in a Small Box. (Available at Goerings.) I wish that she'd stayed another hour and talked more about "the sentence."