As you all must know by now, I’m pregnant. My little boy is due at the end of April, and I find myself feeling both excited and scared about the prospect of being a mom. I spend the wee hours of the night tossing and turning, trying to find a comfortable position, and obsessing about how I am going to teach this child my values.

Well, the other night, I spent a good two hours (between 3 and 5 a.m.) thinking about the books my parents used to read me when I was little, and I decided to make a list of the ones I remembered the best. They were books that taught me about sharing, forgiveness, perseverance, humor and love. So here’s my short list. (I didn’t want to overwhelm you with all 2 hours of brainstorming)

• Blueberries for Sal by Robert McCloskey (sharing, nature)
• Katy and the Big Snow by Virginia Lee Burton (patience and perseverance)
• The Giving Tree by Shel Silverstein (love)
• Stone Soup by Marcia Brown (positive attitude)
• Strega Nona by Tomie dePaola (honesty and consequences)
• The Giant Jam Sandwich by John Vernon Lord (community and problem-solving)
• Wacky Wednesday by Dr Seuss (humor)

And now I am asking you to help me out. Which books contributed to your childhood memories? Why did you like them? I need some inspiration for my Amazon.com books-only baby registry.

The end of the year approaches, and so does the end of Ethnos submissions and our 25 Books project.

This week is your last chance to submit writing on ethnicity and race for our second anniversary issue. We are particularly in need of art submissions!

Also, the 25 Books polls close December 31. So speed-read those last few books on your yearly reading list and get voting.

With all you’ve probably been hearing about Facebook lately, you’d think the entire world is being taken over by an evil empire, intent on sucking out our souls, wasting our time, and invading our privacy. But maybe something good has come out of everyone’s favorite social networking site.

The Facebook Review is the first literary magazine that seeks to use Facebook as its platform to publish members’ creative work. Set up as a group, users can join and then read and comment on the work. Submissions for poetry, fiction, nonfiction, and reviews are all accepted and decided upon by an editorial board consisting of the last issue’s contributors, which is a pretty nifty system (called an “editorial train”). Submissions are made by sending a facebook message to the managing editor, and issues are posted as “news updates,” with new installments going up daily.

Issue 2 features a pretty amazing short story titled “The Vegan Muffin” by Tao Lin, an up and coming writer who will be reading at Fringe’s own “Dirty Water” reading on December 16 at Grub St, 160 Boylston St, Boston. Check it out!

Keggers and CliffsNotes was the best college party, ever. Maybe it was the keg, maybe it was the pizza, maybe it was the 4 awesome readers that made the night, well, magical.

After some boozing and schmoozing to the college-band soundtrack in the background, a crowd of about 50 people settled down to hear Amy L. Clark read 3 short shorts, one of which was brand new. Then her true skills as reader were put to the test as she read a CliffsNotes version of ‘The Scarlet Letter’ with mad-libbed words thrown in from the rather creative audience. Brian Foley, Urban Waite, and Janaka Stucky continued the pattern, each reading compelling literature, followed by audience-enhanced renditions of ‘Paradise Lost,’ ‘The Odyssey,’ and ‘Moby Dick’ (“Discover this American classic of Captain Mr. T on his maniacal search for the emu Schmoopy Dick who took his leg…”).

It was the 3rd reading of the series, but the first under the new official name: Dirty Water Reading Series. We love that dirty water, love great literature, love that fizzy beer. The next reading will be December 16 at Grub Street…write it down! You won’t want to miss it.

THIS Sunday, September 23, (after the Race for the Cure) the Dirty Water Reading Series will present Keggers and CliffsNotes, a (free!) reading at Grub Street in Boston.

Readers on tap: Amy L. Clark (published in Fringe’s feminism issue), Beth Woodcome, Brian Foley, and Janaka Stucky. What better way to kick off the school year than a college dorm party at Grub Street?

This is the third installment of our seasonal reading series, co-hosted with Redivider, Quick Fiction, and Black Ocean. Just like readings past, we will have (mercifully short) readings, audience-participation mad-libs, and of course, FREE pizza and beer (yes, there will be a keg!).

So if you’ll be in the Boston area, come and reminisce those college days of scantrons and keg stands. And if you can’t make it, we’ll raise a plastic cup of fizzy beer in your honor.

DETAILS: Sunday, September 23, Grub Street HQ, 160 Boylston, 4th Floor, 7-9pm

My fellow lit-mag editor Jen Pieroni works as a grant writer for Jumpstart and is currently working on Read For the Record, which purchases numerous copies of a single book (this year, it’s The Story of Ferdinand) in order to help disadvantaged children learn to read.

I think Jen said it best in her email:

“One of the statistics that literally dumbfounds me is that children in economically depressed communities have 0-2 age appropriate books in their homes. 61 percent do not have any books at all. As a writer and someone who loves books, can you even imagine?

So we’re doing Jumpstart’s Read for the Record to raise awareness about these disparities between disadvantaged children and their more privileged peers, while also providing low-income children and families with a beautiful book, which includes tips for families for how to make the most of reading time with young kids.

We chose The Story of Ferdinand because of its great message of being true to oneself. It’s about this totally self-actualized Spanish bull who’s really just content to sit in the pasture and smell the flowers even though he could probably be getting a lot of glory be fighting like all of the other bulls. It’s the perfect message for the kids we’re working with.”

Jen has generously donated some of her own money to the cause. Want help disadvantaged kids learn to read? Donate at Jen’s page and help her make her $1,000 goal!

Last night Fringe, Quick Fiction, Redivider, and Black Ocean held a reading in Boston at Grub Street. The reading, hosted by Redivider, was the second in a series of seasonal readings put on by the Boston-based journals and presses.

The reading’s theme was “Spring Fever” and all four readers delivered. Elisa Gabbert went first, reading some fine love poetry on behalf of Redivider — her “Poem to KR” was a particular favorite. Next came Sarah Sweeney (work forthcoming in the August Fringe), who read several poems about Carolina, including a hilarious quadruple sonnet about lotto tickets and peach schnapps. After a short break, Megan Bedford read her short short out of the new issue of Quick Fiction, followed up by a nonfiction piece on teenagers mating in spring. Peter Jay Shippy, whose work is forthcoming in the first issue of Black Ocean’s new journal Handsome, closed out the evening with a particularly hilarious pastiche of poetry, CSI, Jackson Pollock, and country town-meeting.

Each reader was also forced to read a Shakespeare sonnet that had been Mad-libbed by the audience.

Beer, wine, soda, and those delightful marinated olives that Adam Pieroni of Quick Fiction makes were consumed, and we all went home sated with culture.

Stay tuned for the summer reading in July, hosted by Black Ocean!

I grew up in a family with five children (I was the fourth), and we ate dinner together every night around a large square table, two to a side. Early on, my mother started the tradition of “sayings” before each meal. We’d go around the table, and each of us would quote words of wisdom from Ehrmann’s Desiderata, If by Rudyard Kipling, the Outward Bound book of quotes, or any place else we could find them.

It was always a challenge to find just the right words to say, because my mother would always ask why we’d chosen that particular quote. Of course, there were “code” quotes. If something bad happened, you’d say “Whether or not it is clear to you, the universe is unfolding as it should.” and if you were fighting with someone (but didn’t want to make a scene) you’d say “discretion is the better part of valor” or “as far as possible, without surrender, be on good terms with all people.” (from Desiderata).

In retrospect, I can see that my mother used this ritual as a way to understand us. We were encouraged to find new sayings and fresh interpretations of the old ones. She was teaching us how to think, how to read, and how to see bits of ourselves in the words of the authors and thinkers who came before us.

As writers, publishers, readers, and citizens of the world, it’s our job to look to literature for guidance in our present. If my mom asked me to say a saying tonight, I would have said:

“Seek the lofty by reading, hearing, and seeing great work at some moment every day.” –Thornton Wilder

What would you have said?

Well, Marathon Monday has arrived here in Boston, along with a huge Nor’easter that has kept me secluded to my studio apartment for much of the long weekend. However, I plan to fight the elements at some point to check out the amazing athletes who are literally braving the wind, rain, and snow to make it to that finish line at Copley Square.

For many, Patriot’s Day marks the start of spring in Boston. People emerge from their winter cocoons to check out the runners, the Red Sox, and the BU students partying along the marathon route on Beacon Street. For me, the day is a reminder of how much discipline I don’t have when it comes to working out. Recently, as I was riding comfortably in a friend’s jeep past a slew of sweaty runners, my companion asked me if I ever had any desire to run a marathon.

“For a hot second,” I told him. “Then I realized it would be a horrible idea and I got over it. “

I’ve never been a real athlete by competitive standards, and thus I admire those who have the discipline and drive to train for such a huge undertaking. Last summer, my younger brother stayed with me while he was marathon training, and he would return from long runs with calves caked in salt from the sweat that had dried on his cooling body. Meanwhile, I spent my days drinking coffee, and sitting by the large window in my apartment, concentrating on a page, a paragraph, sometimes only delivering a single line of workable prose. And so it went, each day, for most of the summer.

As a teacher, the summer is when I get most of my writing done, and I just started reading Francine Prose’s Reading Like a Writer to motivate myself to write more in the next few months. The first chapter discusses how much a writer can learn from close-reading and analyzing the works of great writers–not a new idea, but one that I think writers often forget in the competitive marketplace. I know that there are times when I feel so pressured to get the work done that I find myself unable to concentrate at all. Prose brings us back to the basics by pointing out that sometimes all we need is a burst of inspiration from those writers who have been down the same road many times before us.

Maybe that is why every year when I watch the marathon I find myself clapping and cheering for the runners as they climb their way up Commonwealth Ave towards the finish. It’s a little like reading Nabokov–you can’t take your eyes away from the scene. The hundreds of feet pounding the pavement make me think of all the training, the mental preparation, and finally the immense feeling of accomplishment that must come from such a feat. I always vow that I will start running the next day.

Maybe this year I’ll start writing instead.