Thursday Inspiration

I found one of my favorite poems ever in a box today. The poem was published in The Sun Magazine a long time ago - I have no idea which issue.



Essay on Compassion
RICHARD LEHNERT
--for Stephen Dunn

The cat curled against my wide foot's sole idles himself to sleep.
I tell myself he loves me, past food, warmth, shelter,
past my fingers' rough massage.

I think I know this to be true, but say
I tell myself to prove I'm no sentimental fool,
to leave me one ironic out.

When I cut my hand he lapped blood
where it pooled like cooling grease
but showed me more affection when I cried

for what I thought was loss of what I thought was love;
stared into my eyes, touched my cheek with one dry paw
until I looked away.

The paper tells the story: a giant sea turtle
carried a shipwrecked woman most of two days
before delivering her up to a fishing boat.

How would a biologist dismiss this
as coincidence of instincts, the woman saved
without the turtle caring?

How to explain the turtle's choice,
that it rose beneath the woman twice
before she let herself ride that hard back;

that it didn't dive once in two days;
that as much as we want to say so and do not,
it saved her life because it wanted to?

On every God-road known, compassion's the highest good.
I've never made or saved a life,
but, well-fed in calm salt water and good weather,

that turtle had no stronger thirst that day
than to try on a cast-off human goodness
to see how well it swam.

When this slack-ribbed cat, almost twenty, hearing gone,
gets up to walk his bones across the room, then stops,
seems to slowly reconsider, limps back to where he'd started,

I think it better to assume that when he seems to think
he thinks; that when he seems to love
he loves; that the turtle knew exactly what it did

and what would happen if it didn't.

The Daykeeper's Grimoire RELEASED!

My new writer-pal Christy Raedeke just published her debut YA novel, The Daykeeper's Grimoire, from her Prophecy of Days series.

In the book, punchy and smart teenage narrator Caity MacFireland takes on an old secret brotherhood that's attempting to sustain a sinister and conspiratorial world order. At her new home, an inherited castle in Scotland, Caity finds out she's an integral part of a prophecy to save the world, and uses the Mayan calendar and other ancient concepts or texts to interpret the prophecy and thwart the brotherhood's plan.

The book is an exciting, well-written and intellectually-stimulating adventure. Kids these days are so lucky to have this in the reading nook.

And the second one promises to be equally good.

I wasn't in the writing group when Christy wrote this first one, but she was kind enough to let me revel in her victory as one of her "Writing Group Buddies" at her recent Bloomsbury reading.

As a group, we were the proudest, giddiest folks in the audience, appreciating the tenacity and talent it took to get there.

From Left to Right, you see Jennie Englund (in green), me (chewing gum, woops), Julie Inada (Christy's long-time friend who gave a kickin' intro that night, referring to becoming hooked on Christy's writing back in 5th grade when Christy would leave notes for Julie in the Girl's Bathroom), Christy herself, and another writer, Marcia, who currently is taking a break from the group.

Christy's from Ashland, and Bloomsbury was packed - with family, friends, and even her former teachers, including her fifth grade teacher who was absolutely beaming.

For my Washington pals, go be inspired at one of Christy's upcoming readings!

*Village Books in Bellingham on June 5th at Noon
*U Village Barnes and Noble in Seattle on June 5th at 5PM

Tell her "Anjie sent me!" if you go - and tell her you'd love to hear more about Mr. Papers, the monkey who communicates through origami.

Just for fun, I've included some pictures of some hubbies and offspring.

Book Sense: A Conversation with Dane

Dane: Mom, how's your book coming along?

Me: Uh, super slow. I think I want to give up on it. It's going nowhere.

Dane: I know a book you could write that would be easy!

Me: Really? [raise eyebrow] What?

Dane: Just write a Dictionary!

Word.

To Cop A Feel - as published in Underwired Magazine

In the checkout line, Aubrey creeps under my skirt and stands up to run her fingers across my bare buns. She’s three and I’m used to her innocent caresses; however, I’m not prepared for her cold fingers goosing me as I pay for groceries, or the echoes of her voice bouncing off linoleum floors, glass doors and an open cash register with the holler of “Hey Mommy! Why aren’t you wearing any panties?”

I wince and blush at the checker suppressing her laugh and the guy in line behind me with bearded stubble and a 12-pack. I guide Aubrey down – and out – of there, and then ask her to please stand beside me and hold off on further observations. Please.

I’m not about to explain the subtle nuances of underwear at Safeway to a three-year-old: I’m not about to tell her and our neighbors in line that I am indeed wearing underwear, but I’m wearing what we call a thong, which would give her more to figure out and a more elaborate image for our neighbor than makes me comfortable.

I save that conversation for the van ride home, where I explain differences in underwear choices and panty lines to a little girl who will later that week hike her panties up to her armpits, creating a sort of toddler thong, and run through the house yelling, “I’m Mommy! I’m Mommy!”

Recently, her attention has turned to my breasts, and has advanced to petting. Heavy petting if I don’t stop her.

She cops a feel when we read books, when I finish a shower, when I wear a pretty blouse. She starts with the outer curves, working circles around them, and moves her way inward, skimming the nipples. She pokes, she strokes, she kisses.

I feel like a teenager in the back seat after Sadie Hawkins. I try to fend her off with a smile and the option to, say, just hold hands. “But, hey!” she seems to plea. “You invited me! And, after all, I love you!”

As unnerving, and even annoying, as these experiences can be, I know it’s healthy that my daughter is curious about the female body – mine, in particular – and that she is expressing herself this way. In fact, I’m grateful she admires what she sees and feels. It’s taken me years to get to that point. It’s taken me years of unassuming one-piece swimsuits, control top pantyhose, and bad posture to make my breasts seem smaller, all because I didn’t think the fullness, the billows, and the curviness of my body deserved much more.

My own mother had full breasts, thick thighs and a stomach that wasn’t flat. She was active – skiing, hiking, wearing short shorts and two-pieces without worrying about looking perfect – and she otherwise dressed in a classic style she thought served her figure well. I didn’t necessarily admire her body, and I never caressed it with Aubrey’s zeal, but I intently watched how she handled it, which seemed confident if somewhat careful.

A child of the ‘70s, my strongest notions of body size and proportion probably came from television. Wonder Woman, with her large breasts, small waist and cottage-cheese-free thighs set an early standard for me. As did posters of Farrah Fawcett at my dad’s house and any commercial with an attractive woman in it. I watched wholesome shows like Little House on the Prairie and Diff’rent Strokes, too, but my mind clung to images of women filling out their jeans and skirts, and even their prairie dresses, just so.

So when my daughter, who doesn’t watch commercial television, feels me up, telling me she loves me, that I’m beautiful, and that she wants to be just like me when she grows up, I start to understand that this size 12 body of mine is getting exactly the attention and admiration it deserves. Aubrey’s perspective is pure.

Some of that pure perspective rubbed off on me this summer, when I saw my mother and my aunt together. Both in their sixties now, their knees are dimpled, their waists are thickening, their arms are firm, and their breasts are still large, if slightly lower. They played croquet, they sat and talked, they ate from the snack tray. They laughed at the dog sniffing where nobody wanted him to sniff. They weren’t self-conscious. They were happy. They were comfortable.

I thought, Look at them. Look how they move with agility and strength, how they smile and laugh with confidence. Look how they accept themselves and enjoy others. And then I thought, That’s me. That’s me in 30 years. Look how lovely they are – and look who I’m going to be.

Perhaps Aubrey’s having that revelation now. Perhaps when she runs her fingers across my backside, gropes my chest, and asks when she’ll get her own set of breasts or if I’ll save my pink panties for her, she’s literally embracing who she is and who she’s going to be someday.

Who knows? Maybe I should have tested the limits of the cue I’d taken from Aubrey this summer. Maybe when I admired my mother and my aunt, I should have grabbed handfuls of their butts and their boobs like Aubrey would – if only to fully embrace my destiny, too.

Stepping into the Story Garden -- and the Mouth and Some Friends' Houses and the Kennel...

Doesn't that all sound magical???

I'm headed to Redmond, Washington, this weekend for a whirlwind conference. My writer-pal Jennie and I drive the 9 hours north tomorrow, hob-nob with other writers that evening, and then take all-day classes Saturday and Sunday - all in hopes of getting a better grip on the Young Reader's (and Writers) world. In case you're concerned, of course I'm going to sneak a quick dinner in with my one and only Karen on Friday night, but other than that, it's work, work, work. Learn, learn, learn.

Mick is away at the Oregon Dental Association Conference in Portland, Oregon, this weekend, frequenting coffee shops and skate parks in between classes with his pal Justin. Needless to say, because we're doubling up on the adult learning, we're, boo hoo, farming our kids out to family and friends.

Alas, the kids are beside themselves with excitement: Dane gets to spend the weekend with Logan, and Aubrey gets to spend the weekend with her cousins. (Hopefully, she won't bring and attract any sickness -- she's missed three days of school this week with the Flu. Fingers crossed.)

And Sharkles? Sharkles the dog? She's doing some doggie daycare and overnights at the R&R Pet Resort. She should be having herself some fun (even though she'll miss us!) as she plays with other dogs and tuckers herself out for each night of sleep.

SWEET TWEET!

While surfing the web to find an online copy of Underwired Magazine (haven't found one yet - might have to just wait until they mail me my hard copy from Kentucky and then scan it) I ran across this tweet on Underwired's Twitter account:

1. Essay submissions for next UW were hilarious. Our favorite? Hands down... To Cop A Feel. There was a lot to say about the "Backside" theme. 10:59 AM Mar 17th via TweetDeck

Now isn't that a sweet tweet?

Publishing Problem Solved

Underwired accepted my essay, "Cop A Feel!"

(That's their October 09 magazine cover to the left.)

It was accepted on the 13th, just two days before The Mom Egg needed a response from me regarding that essay - so I was able to decline with The Mom Egg, withdraw from Skirt, and give Underwired the go-ahead, all in good time and good conscience.

In an earlier post, I'd written that I liked The Mom Egg and its reputation (which is linked to Mamapalooza, an organization that empowers women and girls) and was excited my essay was accepted there - but The Mom Egg is not a paying market, like Skirt and Underwired. And not only do the other two pay, but they have snazzier presentation, for those of us who appreciate visual inspiration.

When The Mom Egg originally accepted, my friend Jennifer Margulis had suggested that if the other publications don't have a problem with multiple submissions (and they don't) then I could try emailing them and telling them my piece had been accepted elsewhere but I preferred their publication if they wanted my essay.

I did that with Underwired, which I felt strongest about, and got a sort of business-y response that said they just had their submission deadline a couple days earlier and wouldn't even read them all until the 18th, so I could withdraw my submission if I wanted.

I decided to let it lie.

I felt my essay was strong and didn't want to be annoying to them - so I made up my mind to just see what happened when they actually read it. I was going to wait until the last minute on the 15th and go with The Mom Egg if it came down to that. Needless to say, I was thrilled then when, on Saturday morning, the 13th!, Underwired emailed to let me know it had been accepted there.

Now I'm $100 richer, have another publication to check off my goal list for the year, have a little more publishing savvy, and am being published in a Kentucky market, which is exciting in light of my novel setting.

My essay will appear in the April issue of Underwired, which has the theme "Backside."

I'll post when it's out!

PHEW!

I sent my application packet off today to the Society of Children's Book Writers & Illustrators (SCBWI) for the Work-In-Progress Grant. The application required a complete Application Form, my Career Background, a list of How I'd Spend The Money, the First 2500 Words of my Young Adult novel, and a Synopsis.

The total packet could only be 15 pages -- mine was 13 -- and I had to submit 7 perfect packets. The deadline is Monday, so I over-nighted it via UPS this morning.

The winners will be announced in September, so I can forget about the contest for now, but keep working on the project.

There are 4 prize categories:
-General (a catch-all)
-Contemporary (takes place in last 10 years)
-Nonfiction
-Multi-cultural/Minority (tells story from that perspective)

I submitted under that last one.

There will be a $2k grant winner for each of those categories, as well as $500 runners-up awards. After those have been selected, an additional "Unpublished Writer" category will open up, and the remaining applications will be considered under that category to win those same awards.

It was a long haul to manage the odds and ends, but I'm glad I did it. I feel more committed now than ever to the project, and like I have some serious work behind me -- and plenty in front of me, too, of course.

This fulfills one of my goals for this year: to apply for a grant. I think I'll apply for another one through the Oregon Humanities, which is due June 26. The writing sample then is the first 25 pages.

Note: I was reminded again how much I value my community of writers. Jennie emailed/phoned/came over to brainstorm and advise on various sections, Karen offered her understanding as a fellow artist, Maya from my Marin writing group helped me keep my head on straight by weighing in on which 2500 words to send, and my friend Ellen (Notbohm) gave feedback at various stages along the way. This sounds like an acceptance speech. It's not -- at least not in the sense that I've won anything, but maybe it is -- in the sense that I've accepted much-needed help from these smart friends.

IT'S NICE TO BE WANTED - PART I

(ANOTHER ACCEPTANCE!)

A few years ago I wrote "To Cop A Feel," an essay about how Aubrey's curious and admiring gropes reminded me to embrace my own body-- and my destiny.

I got an email today that The Mom Egg, a New York-based literary magazine, wants to publish it in their upcoming annual issue, which will have the theme "Lessons."

Yay! I'm super excited about this.

I'm super excited about this, and I have to let them know by the 15th if my piece is still available, but now I have the dilemma of what to do about Skirt and Underwired.

See, I sent it to Skirt as a possibility for the "X" issue, with the title "Exemplary Behavior," and I sent it to Underwired as a possibility for their "Backside" issue.

Unlike The Mom Egg, both of those markets pay (and I think their websites are snazzier, although the literary content is probably similar). Additionally, they should be deciding soon whether they want it, because the deadlines were this week and the issues both publish in April.

That said, I have a call in to my local writing etiquette expert, Jennifer Margulis, asking her if I should email Skirt and Underwired separately to let them know this piece has been accepted elsewhere, unless one of them wants to grab it first.

We'll see if she says that's acceptable.

What do you think?

WRITING GOAL UPDATE: SCORE!

"Bar After Bar," a flash fiction piece I wrote a couple years ago for a Writer's Digest prompt (remember voting in their contest???) has been accepted! at a funky, edgy and experimental online literary journal called Drunken Boat. The ezine was named for the 100-line verse-poem written by Arthur Rimbaud in 1871.

The publication has up until recently been a yearly publication, but they're switching over to a twice-yearly publication. I'm not sure whether my story will run in the mid-summer or mid-winter issue this year, but I'm promised it will run within a year. Of course, I'll provide the link then.

I'm going to count this as my "March" acceptance goal.

And... no moola this time - just, um, prestige?

Another Love Letter

Thanks to all of you who read my essay, "The Making of a Dentist: A Story of Love and Teeth." I got so much surprising and kind feedback in emails and on Facebook that it kind of made me float around Ashland all week.

All that feedback is especially great to recall today, because... I TOTALLY LOST THE CONTEST!

I found out this morning that Jak Wonderly indeed won. Deservedly so. The other three runners-up, though (see? three! I TOTALLY lost!), well, I'll just say they ran up. (Read: Anjie is a sore loser.)

But this is the year of submitting, being excited about acceptances, and being fully capable of receiving rejections. I assure you, I will continue to collect rejections like love letters. See? Kiss kiss hug hug.

For the record, other love letters this year have come from Skirt, Mothering, and Brain, Child. But I was also a finalist in a contest and had an essay published in The Christian Science Monitor. So I'll keep reminding myself there's a little love in acceptances, too.

MONTH TWO WRITING GOAL ACCOMPLISHED:
PUBLISHED IN FEBRUARY!

My essay, "The Making Of A Dentist: A Story Of Love And Teeth," was published yesterday at WorkLifeGroup.com. It's a finalist in their Career Stories contest.

Feel free to give it a Thumbs Up on their site if you like it. (The Thumbs Up sign shows up faintly, as a number next to my title on the essay page.) I don't know if it'll help me win, but it can't hurt.

What's the win? Well, because I keep it real here on my blog, it's 500 smacks. And a chance to be paid to write for their website in the future. Two things I'd love, natch.

While you're there, read some of the other stories, too. They're fun and inspiring. I already gave a Thumbs Up to "How An Elephant Taught Me To Write" and "Creating True Beauty In The World."

If you use any of the links above, once you get there, you can click on the "Career Stories" link in the right-hand margin and get access to all the stories.

Leave a comment here and let me know who you turned your thumb up at!

Published in the Christian Science Monitor!

Okay, I missed Month One of my goal to "have something published every month for 2010" - but just by one day!

Today the Christian Science Monitor's Home Forum published "That Bike," as "Pedaling into a new way of life," and I'm so excited. (They even published my photo.)

Maybe I'll count is as a "January" publication anyway - because I got the check in the mail today and it was dated January 28, 2010.

How much was the check for? Well, in the interest of keeping it real, I'll tell you: 75 smacks. Writers DO NOT grow rich quickly.

But we grow. And that's what I'm planning to keep doing.

I'll let you know what I drum up for February.

JenniePal WriterPal SkirtPal

Jennie Englund and I met at Noble Coffee last summer. I was working on a new chapter for my novel; she was having coffee with a girlfriend. We started talking about writing and teaching (she teaches English 100s and 200s at Rogue Community College) and we hit it off.

We hit it off to the extent that Jennie suggested we be friends. This was rare, and I quote her: "I don't try to make new friends, do I?" she turns with a nod to her coffee friend. Her friend shakes her head, no. "I can't even be a good enough friend to the friends I have, so I'm never looking for new friends. But I want you to be my friend. It has to happen. We have to write together."

It was the funniest, silliest intro I could've had to a new friend in Ashland, and I was all over it.

My family was headed to King Tut in San Francisco for the weekend, so summer felt busy, but Jennie and I kept in touch via email and finally got together for some serious writing at the beginning of fall. This was a couple weeks after I'd seen her in Albertson's wearing an outfit I didn't realize was a costume. Turns out she was dressed like a pirate for the Tree Frog Trek camp, but I thought she wore ruffly shirts and vests for real.

Here's the beauty of this: I've been wanting a serious writer-friend to write with, revise with, and set goals with. Check. Check. And check.

A few weeks ago, Jennie let me read something she wrote a while back and I suggested she submit it to Chicken Soup for the Soul's Christmas edition; I also suggested she submit it to Skirt magazine's holiday contest.

Guess who won honorable mention in the holiday contest???

Yup, that'd be Jennie. Following is her story in full. You can also link to it here at Skirt! Way to go, Jennie! And I'm still keeping my fingers crossed for Chicken Soup - because we all like a paying market now, don't we?

How Sallie Bowles Saved Christmas

by Jennie Englund

­
Flames licked the fireplace door as my mom sat on the sofa, cradling her hot cocoa in her hands. Her blonde hair had long since fallen out from relentless rounds of chemotherapy. Instead, a blue handkerchief covered her head, and a reindeer-printed fleece blanket draped her swollen legs. She still wore mascara‚she always wore mascara. But her thin face and tired eyes reflected the battle she was going to lose.

She took it all in: the stories, the drama, even the fighting. She knew this was her last Christmas.

At 27, I knew it was her last Christmas, too. But my seven younger siblings didn't know it. Maybe some of them chose NOT to know it. And the two littlest‚ my ten year-old sister and four year-old brother‚ had absolutely no way of knowing it.

Ribbons, bows and wrapping paper flew around the room. Photo albums and Lego sets were ooo'ed and ahh'ed over, until the next package was ferociously ripped open. That year, we tore into the gifts like lions at their prey. We were looking for the magic gift—the contents of the one box that would make us forget our mom's suffering, and our own.

It never came.

The next Christmas, the reindeer-printed blanket was folded in the corner of the sofa. No one wanted to open any gifts. We wanted our mom.

But Christmas wasn't about wanting. And it wasn't about sorrow. The rest of our Christmases couldn't be this way. As the oldest sibling, I had to do something. We didn't have our mom, but we did have each other. And for the sake of our dad, who had lost his college sweetheart, I had to bring back Christmas.

As we pushed around ham and mashed potatoes with our forks, an idea came to me. Slipping from the table, I rummaged through my teenage sister's room for sequins and baubles. I fastened a too-tight silver bra over my black t-shirt and threw a feather boa over my shoulder.

There was one clear choice. My husband put in the CD we'd brought from our house: the soundtrack to the 1972 musical, "Cabaret." The sole song to which I knew all the words was the title track. As the trumpets began pumping, I slunk sheepishly from the hallway. My dad nodded. My teenage sister stood up on her chair. The four year-old gaped in wonder and surprise.

Like Liza Minnelli in her role as Sallie Bowles, I began singing tentatively at first. I stood motionless at the unplugged microphone, bathed in the beam of a powerful flashlight. Of course I asked myself what I thought I was doing, or even what I was undoing. Was this irreverent? Flat-out blasphemy? I mean, I was the responsible one. And even with all the sequins and baubles and boa and bra, I felt naked, completely naked.

But I could feel the eyes on me‚desperate for the return of holiday folly.

The music picked up pace. Sallie's voice picked up pace. And my confidence somehow adjusted accordingly.

I bumped my hips and twirled my necklaces and wrapped the boa around my brother's neck. My dad was laughing‚really laughing, îand every chuckle was melting the previous year of pain. My teenage sister danced on her chair. The four year-old clapped his hands against his thighs.

THEY were inspiring ME.

By the end of the show tune, I was belting out the lyrics, with my legs kicking up in the air:

"Life is a cabaret, Old Chum.

Only a Cabaret, Old Chum.

And I love‚ a cabaret.‚"

I held the last note until the drum stopped.

And then I collapsed forward.

The cheers and whistles were deafening. It had worked. "Cabaret" couldn't bring back our mom, but it could begin to restore a broken family's joy and hope.

It makes me queasy, but I'll post this anyway

My 2010 Writing Goals

Research homes for (and submit):

• Mustache Revolution
• Name That Girl
• Man in Kentucky
• Veteran’s Day
• Of Cherry Blossoms…
• That Bike [check!]
• Emergency
• Buddy
• Married To A Dentist: A Story of Love and Teeth
• An excerpt from BLUE as a short story (???)
• Poopy Brucey [can have a goal to re-name that, too]
• To Cop A Feel
• Cowboy
• 9/11 Reflection
• God’s Thumb
• Beauty Marked
• Nursed
• Ultimate Ungulate Week
• Loaded
• Sharly

Apply for:

• Oregon Arts Commission Grant – “Career Opportunity Grant” – by Feb 11, 2010

Publish:

• One piece a month for 2010
• In Skirt!
• In CSM
• In Jefferson Monthly
• In Ashland Tidings
• In Ancestry magazine
• In Oregon Humanities Magazine
• In Brevity
  
• In an anthology
• A book review

Take/attend/volunteer at:

• A writing workshop

Finish:

• BLUE draft by May 1

Daily Chores:

• Read at least 2 of these:
• CSM Home Forum
• Skirt!
• Ancestry magazine
• The Sun
• Read from a novel
• Read from at least 1 of these Appalachian or Writing books:
• Land of the Saddle Bags
• Appalachian Stereotypes
• Bloodroot
• Animal, Vegetable, Miracle
• Between the Lines
• How to Write a Damn Good Novel
• Bastards and Bullies

Post progress on blog - along with fabulous things my family does

Collect REJECTIONS like love letters

Grammar Grouch

I'm not particularly picky about grammatical errors. Of course, I never make them, but I tolerate others' mistakes quite well.

All half-joking aside, here's a poster I'm thinking of buying for my kids. I'll probably have to wait and give it to them after they've reached their teens, since it has an abbreviated bad word in it, but it'll be worth the wait.

It clears up a lot of the confusion they're encountering in their writing. Perhaps it will have a positive effect on them and then maybe their writing won't be so weird.

10 Words You Need to Stop Misspelling

Kids Poetry Contest at CSM

If your kids write poetry, send their stuff to the Christian Science Monitor! Here's what I sent on behalf of my kids:


The Dog

A dog runs
through a grassy field
fetching a ball.
The owner waits,
The dog comes.
He does it again.

by Dane Reynolds, age 9
(written before we got our dog)



Sharly My Dog

Sharly is my Dog.
Her fur is the Color of
a fox's. She does not
Bite. She is very
very Sweet.
Her ears feel like
Velvet. She wags her
tail when I pet her.
I love Sharly my dog!

by Aubrey Reynolds, age 7



(Yeah, we've got a bit of a theme going here.)

Write Now

I was telling Mick last night that I'm feeling rather zen about my writing. I'm aware when I'm in the company of accomplished writers that I'm no journalist, no lyric essayist, no novelist. One of those I don't ever want to be (journalist); the other ones I do hope to be, when the time comes. The zen feeling of all that, is that ultimately I must write to write. That's it.

In re-reading Natalie Goldberg's Writing Down the Bones and after meeting all the shewrites women for coffee recently, I'm feeling grounded. Whatever I write is what I write; it's true when it comes out of me, and it's true to my experience, and if I allow (and discipline) myself to write regularly, some of it could be great.

If I write about parenting, if I write about my childhood, if I juxtapose images or ideas, if I write about current events or ancient history, so be it -- regardless of whether it comes out as simply blogworthy, or as publishable in the Christian Science Monitor's Home Forum, or publishable in The Sun (*sigh, flutter*). Likewise, if my novel comes out as utterly awful prose - as the first draft of a first novel - so be it. With everything, I'll keeping writing, working, re-working -- all for the sake of that commitment to write.

Eckart Toll wrote "Be here now." I just wrote in my journal, "Write now." That's meaningful in different ways and it inspires me within the realm of discipline, craft, parenting, and dreaming.

This also inspires me, and I think it says a lot more succinctly what I'm trying to say:

Even in literature and art, no man who bothers about originality will ever be original: whereas if you simply try to tell the truth (without caring twopence how often it has been told before) you will, nine times out of ten, become original without ever having noticed it.

-C. S. Lewis (1898 - 1963)

Fun Little Write-up

Check out www.windwaterwords.blogspot.com, the Soapstone Writers Retreat site. I'm Saturday's featured writer.

Shewrites. And she writes. And she writes...

Yesterday's coffee with Kamy Wicoff of shewrites.com was rather exciting. Kamy brought her boyfriend Pierre, a musician with The Dimes (click on their website -- music will play, and you'll hear their great sound). The others who joined us were writer/storyteller Devorah Zaslow and world renowned science writer, Virginia Morell, who had the February 2008 cover story for National Geographic and just signed a high six-figure book deal based on her research. Of course, Jennifer Margulis was there, too, who is an accomplished writer in her own right, having, among other things, held the cover story for November 2009's Smithsonian magazine, an article which was recently chosen for The 2009 Best Science Writing anthology.

You might say I was in exceptional company.

That's what made it fun, inspiring and special - but so was all the frank talk about writing and commitment and networking and choosing agents. Obviously, I'm nowhere near the stages any of these women are (by the way, Kamy's written a book, too, called I Do But I Don't, a book about marriage and divorce), but as Jennifer went around the table and introduced everybody, ending finally with me and my small accomplishments and novel-in-progress, I somehow still felt like I was part of the big picture.

There's a kind of big picture kindness and respect that comes from good writers. They're the ones who respect the process, the stages, the hard work, and the successes of any writer at any level. I definitely felt that respect and kindness yesterday as talk around the table shifted to different experiences and issues from each of us. Admittedly, I was the one playing the newbie card, but it was okay because they'd all been there.

But that's the point of shewrites.com, and that's the feeling I got from these other writers: at some point We've all been there. We've been at some spot, and possess information or advice or ideas that are valuable to share. And that's the purpose of a community of writers.

Kamy said she'd wished she could've recorded the meeting for her website, as it hit on the topics shewrites.com pursues. And, afterward, Devorah suggested we (sans Kamy) get together once a month or so to talk about writing.

Perhaps Devorah's comments were directed more at Virginia and Jennifer, but I didn't necessarily get that vibe. I got that writers-supporting-writers vibe instead.

It sounds like Virginia is absolutely swamped with her book deal, kind of like she wants to sneak away to a cave and pound the book out, uninterrupted, so I'm not sure what will come of Devorah's suggestion. However,I still came away inspired to work hard -- and you'd better believe I'll be sure to write again if I ever have the pleasure of actually being part of something so cool.