Writing Notes

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Flump_1015I’ve returned from New England, a week spent visiting my mom, playing with grandkids, and soaking up sun. I also managed to eat swordfish-twice.

In spare minutes, I read (books on the beach, my iPad on the train, and my Feedly feed on my laptop).  What I didn’t do was write. But I’m ready to dive in again. I always manage to find nuggets of joy and sadness when I visit my mom, thoughts I process by writing.

But that’s not all I brought home. I’ve learned to pause and record conversations and feelings that I’ll mix and remix later in poetry and prose. From this visit, I’m considering:

  • a sailboat race with a small, blond child (she looked so fierce)
  • a strange conversation between three 20-somethings about their parents
  • a drunk women on the train who tried to engage other passengers in bizarre conversations
  • my father’s workshop  (a topic I am revisiting)

Now, where to start……..

Thinking About…

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“Real education is a radical process. It thumps you on the head until everything you know makes no sense anymore. Then you run around picking up the pieces of your head and picking them back together. The pieces never go back together in the same way.”
― Debbie Millman, Look Both Ways: Illustrated Essays on the Intersection of Life and Design

Teaching Again

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I love writing with kids.

My friend Elizabeth Seaver and I are teaching a “Write a Book” camp this week. Yesterday we offered some creative exercises and the kids took off. We’ve got a lyrical story, a poem about an eggplant, and some unique ideas for cover design. In between workshop and lunch, we heard some of the best jokes 10 and 11-year-olds can tell.

And that was the first day! Stay tuned. I’ll share some of their work if they agree:)

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As for my own writing, I’m thinking about John Truby’s advice: to craft a story based on a character’s psychological and moral needs. Let outside characters challenge the character’s personal flaw (or need). Ok, that helps me see some changes I need to make.

Drafting Again

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STONEY MAN BECKONS

Cresting his summit

wetted in drifting fog

we climb higher

always harder

no panoramic views

of ridges or passes today

we count ferns, bellwort

among spring sightings

daisies and rhododendron

bracket white trillium

on tree-lined paths

at the peak, he provides

a landing, and we rest

in a silent haze.