I teased this event a few months ago and haven’t mentioned it since. It’s not that I’m not excited about returning to the University of West Georgia for the first time since graduating thirty years ago. I’ve been battling some health issues. But I’m feeling better and am planning to be at Adamson Hall in Carrollton, Georgia, on April 15 at 6 p.m.

I’m hoping the event—a conversation with two professors about my journey from Carrollton to Las Vegas to San Salvador—will draw students, staff, and others from on and around campus. But it would be nice to see some familiar faces from the Atlanta area. (The event is open to the public, but space may be limited.)

Mark your calendars, my friends! I’ll see you next month amid the dogwood bloom!

PS- To register for the event, please click on the link below

https://www.westga.edu/calendar.php#event-details/18eca1e7-dd46-4e29-91fd-fa92884d319b

I had the honor of editing several compelling books this year, and When We Were Invincible: Life Lessons from the ’80s that Defined a Generation stood out among them. I attribute that to the author’s passion for the subject and knowledge of it and dedication to it. Not only did she live it, she immersed herself in it and indulged.

If you “fought to use the only phone in the house, took a dodgeball hit like a champ,” and “ran wild until the streetlights came on,” this book is for you! It’s an ideal gift for the Gen Xer in your life.

Also, if you’re interested in the ’80s, “friend” or “follow” Becky on social media. Her exploration of the decade is just beginning and her passion for it is contagious.

As some of you know, I’m back in the classroom for the first time since the pandemic. I’m teaching two sections of a senior writing workshop/bootcamp at a bilingual prep school a short Uber ride from where I live in Antiguo Cuscatlán, El Salvador.

The class is going well. During the first semester, which ended last week, we focused on academic writing: summary, analysis, research, etc. In the second semester, we plan to shift to creative writing: poetry, short stories, novels, etc.

In celebration of the first semester and the holiday season, the high school hosted an all-you-can-eat lunch at a local Italian restaurant. This selfie was taken by the school’s young, dynamic director, Mr. Rubén. Miss Marta (on the left in the Santa cap) is the energetic and positive director of the high school.

So far, I have really enjoyed working with this passionate, supportive, and selfless group.

I recently received some good (and surprising) news. The short story I wrote that lets the reader inside the head of a Las Vegas street prostitute has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize by Winged Penny Review.

Winged Penny Review is a newish lit journal, and does not appear to publish tons of stories a year. And the odds of this story being selected for the Pushcart Prize: Best of the Small Presses series seem long. Nonetheless, I’m flattered by the gesture.

https://www.wingedpennyreview.com/matthew-obrien-crack-ho

This isn’t something I think about when I’m writing; it struck me away from my desk, with sudden clarity: One of the main goals of my writing, particularly my last book (Dark Days, Bright Nights) and the short stories I’m currently working on, is that the reader will never look at the homeless—or Las Vegas—in quite the same way.

Photo credit: Steve Fanell

To get to school, I Uber to one of the most beautiful buildings in San Salvador—La Basílica de Guadalupe, which fronts the famous Pan-American Highway. I scale a rusted, tottering pasarela (pedestrian overpass) that spans the highway. As its floor undulates, I send up a prayer: If it gives, please let me land on the back of truck headed for Costa Rica.

The overpass drops me into a bustling, open-air bus station/market. Stout women stand guard over grills and cauldrons of grease, their skin glistening with sweat. The heat and smell of fried tortillas hit me as I pass in my school uniform, backpack bulging and credentials bouncing off my chest. Buses destined for Zaragoza, Jayaque, and Sonsonate jostle for position along the curb. Weighed down by their wares—potato chips, unsalted cashews, knockoff T-shirts and baseball caps—street vendors disappear into the buses and reappear when the vehicles are in motion.

As the sidewalk clears and smooths out, I instinctively check for my wallet and glance over my shoulder. The wallet’s always there and no one’s ever trailing me. I hurry through a dark and loud underpass, then play Frogger as I attempt to cross a semi-blind, debris-strewn onramp that borders the presidential palace and leads to campus. The vigilante (security guard) waves me through the gates with a smile—and that, of course, is when the chaos begins.

This is a ways off, but I’m already looking forward to it: On April 15 at 6 p.m., I will be speaking at my alma mater, the University of West Georgia (just outside of Atlanta). The plan, at this early stage, is that I will be discussing my writing career and adventures (Las Vegas, El Salvador, etc.) with two professors from the school.

It sounds like a few of you (who live outside of Georgia) are interested in using this talk as an excuse to catch up with me in person and to explore the Atlanta area and the South. Please do mark the date, and let me know if you have any questions about the event, area, etc. And, of course, I will post more details as the date approaches.

Congrats to my friend and writing student Logan Gaines! Logan, who works as a realtor during the day and in restaurants at night, and has struggled with dyslexia, has been a dedicated writer for more than ten years. Yesterday, he earned his first publishing credit.

The story, “From Fame to Shamrock,” is about two musicians who discover that their idol, believed to have died in a car accident many years ago, is alive and in hiding. They seek him out, in hopes of meeting him and possibly even baiting him back on stage. It’s fun to read and does an admirable job of suspending disbelief.

http://www.bewilderingstories.com/issue1060/fame_shamrock1.html

Soon after Bill Hughes passed away in April 2021, a group of his ex-colleagues at Las Vegas CityLife put together a pitch to get him in the Nevada Newspaper Hall of Fame. We noted his long tenure in the state (nearly 30 years), how he blended art and photojournalism, and his domination of the Better Newspaper Contest. (Over a ten-year stretch—amid the golden age of alt-weeklies in Nevada—he won forty-three first-place awards.) He left behind a portfolio, we concluded, that is unmatched as far as quality, quantity, and uniqueness—one which tells the story of Las Vegas becoming what it is today.

Bill would’ve shrugged off such praise. He was humble, hardworking, and would never have sought this type of validation of his work. But we thought he deserved to be recognized as one of the best photojournalists to ever toil in Nevada (and that more of the work of alt-weeklies in general should be acknowledged)—and the Nevada Press Foundation Board of Trustees agreed. Bill will be inducted into the Newspaper Hall of Fame next month, along with seven other journalists.

Congratulations to Bill and his family! Congrats also to the three other inductees who I know personally and/or professionally: Mary Hausch, Jake Highton, and Charles Zobell.

I still get the occasional book-club request for Beneath the Neon, which was published more than seventeen years ago. And I always try to accommodate them, especially when they’re from a group that is involved in the Las Vegas community and trying to learn from the book in some form or fashion.

I had fun chatting yesterday afternoon (via Zoom) with the United Way of Southern Nevada’s book club. Interesting and informed people who asked interesting and informed questions.