My Birthday Wish - Help Me Have Deeper Impact

I’m Turning 50’

Happy Summer Everyone! 

Guess what? I'm not 18 anymore! I am turning FIFTY years old on June 20th and I couldn’t be more excited! When I read Carl Jung in grad school in my mid-20’s, 50 seemed so far away, but the way he described it made me look forward to it -- freedom from self. The 20’s were all about finding out what I was made of, the 30’s about starting and raising a family, the 40’s about finding meaning through work and making a difference in the community, and the 50’s extending that even farther, and really embracing life. My path has followed the Jungian trajectory perfectly! 

My Family Journey with Writopia

I had my three beautiful children in my 30’s and helped take care of my grandmother. I published my first novel in my early 40’s, and started working at Writopia Lab in NYC, a baby non-profit created by Rebecca Wallace-Segall dedicated to fostering joy, literacy, and critical thinking through creative writing to all kids and teens - a program that had a sliding scale and never turned anyone away based on their ability to pay.  The summer I turned 42, my family decided to take a leap of faith and move to Northern Westchester, and we wanted to bring Writopia Lab with us. My husband and I slowly began building the region now known as New York Metro North. All the while we watched Rebecca and her team in NYC grow exponentially, not only in the city, but becoming a Writopia Nation and opening labs in DC, Chicago, LA, and (now) San Francisco. Part of the city’s growth was paying attention to our mission of accessibility, that all children deserve and have the right to write. They have programs in treatment centers, in low performing schools, and Homes 4 Homeless. It’s been so inspiring to watch and be a part of.

We have grown out in Westchester too, and now have our own labs in Bedford Hills and Hartsdale, and with smaller hubs in Stamford, Ct. and in Rockland County (Nanuet). I have one of my first Writopians, Kaley, who started at the end of fifth grade in a small workshop at the Katonah Library, graduating from high school and attending Columbia University in the fall. How amazing and wonderful is it that I get to be part of not only her journey but many other kids as well.  Writopia is a safe, loving environment where kids can find their authentic voices and learn how to process their thinking through writing. They fall in love with the art of communication.

My Birthday Wish: Deeper Impact

And now is the time to grow in our outreach efforts, the way the city has. We have a huge immigrant population in Westchester, and haven’t been able to reach this important part of our community. There is a wonderful program called Neighbors Link whose mission is to strengthen the whole community by actively enhancing the healthy integration of immigrants.

In honor of my birthday, I am asking you to help me bring Writopia Lab to Neighbors Link and to our greater outreach efforts. There are two programs where Writopia could have deep impact  - Summer Links - which serves kindergartners through fifth grade - and Pipeline, a school-year program that focuses on teens who are at risk for graduating from high school. We would also love to be able to provide a full scholarship to one of our Westchester kids to our sleepaway camp, Wricampia at the end of August this summer.

This is why I am hoping to raise a minimum of $5000 for Writopia Lab for my 50th birthday. We will be “partying” all month of June! Check out the link to my donation page on the Writopia Website! Not everyone is in the position to donate, but what always helps is word-of-mouth - spreading the news of Writopia Lab!

In Support of Elementary School Librarians

Dear Community Members,

It’s half way into our first school year with no full-time librarians in Bedford Central School District’s elementary schools. How is it going? Are your children reading just as much? Are the ESL students thriving in reading and writing without the the intimate guidance of the librarians? Are all of our children excited about the latest trends in literature?

Because librarians do more than stack books -- they create a culture. My grandmother, the late Madeleine L’Engle who wrote A Wrinkle in Time as well as 60 other books was the librarian and artist-in-residence for 35 years at the Cathedral of St. John the Divine in New York City. It is not enough to have a library without a librarian. In her 1998 Margaret Edwards Award Acceptance speech she said: “To be a librarian, particularly a librarian for young adults, is to be a nourisher, to share stories, offer books full of new ideas. We live in a world which has changed radically in the last half century, and story helps us to understand and live creatively with change.”

I, like all of us, have witnessed firsthand the power of well-funded public education, as I have three children in Fox Lane Middle and High Schools who all reaped the benefits of having an elementary school librarian. I am an author and an educator; I run the Westchester and Connecticut chapters of a national writing non-profit program called Writopia Lab, where our mission is to spread joy, literacy, and critical thinking to all children and teens through creative writing. Kids learn critical thinking through exposure to all kinds of reading and writing - this is how they become problem solvers, this is how they learn about humanity, and this is how they find their own voice in the world. For example, over 95% of Writopia parents say their children and teens have more joy in their life because of their involvement in writing workshops; over 74% of the parents of reluctant writers report that they feel that their children’s grades and test scores improved because of their positive immersion in reading and writing.

Elementary school librarians can fill that gap: reading and writing skills not only help our children grow as critical thinkers, but they help them achieve academic excellence as well. They pull students from classrooms who need extra support or enrichment, and teach all children the language and love of books.  They are also the stewards into which kids learn how to research, and how to separate fact from fiction. Which, these days, seems like a more and more important skill.

More kids than ever are reaching high school and applying to college with no idea how to write an essay, and with no tools for critical thinking other than regurgitation for the Common Core tests - our children are woefully unprepared. Don’t our kids need and deserve more nourishers in their lives? Isn’t this what opportunity and top education is all about? Our children are only in elementary school once; and we have the power to create something wonderful for them.

Our support of librarians sends a clear message to our children: we, as a community, value the pursuit of intellectual curiosity.

Please consider reinstating elementary school librarians for the 2017-2018 budget, and for years to come.

Sincerely,

Trying to Live in Thanksgiving

A cold crisp November morning curled up in a cozy chair by the fire in Starbucks, piping hot coffee and my laptop open, my writing mojo strong and swift. I had even found an available outlet to plug in - both literally and figuratively. Tap, tap, tap, sip. The opportunities I have for writing these days are few and far between, so I was relishing every second, burrowing deeper into a scene in a French class at a boarding school.

It wasn’t a happy scene, and my lip started to curl in disgust, and that’s when I noticed the strong stench of urine behind me.

Sweet Jesus. I slowly turned around to look at the obstacle to my literary joy. It was a large elderly man wearing an olive green jacket. He was perching on a stool and looking out the window. I turned back around and tried to get back to my writing, but my olfactory senses had been assaulted and I couldn’t concentrate - I had to move.

The only problem with moving, was that he was sitting right by the outlet where my cord was.

The seat opposite from me was empty, so I unplugged my computer and moved my belongings, and then gingerly made my way over to the window to retrieve my cord from the outlet.

“Excuse me, I just need to get that,” I said, with a half-smile of apology.

“Oh I am so sorry!” this man said to me kindly, but he also sounded . . . embarrassed. He looked worried that he was bothering me - and my heart melted.

“No, I’m the one who is sorry!” I said as I got my cord and made my way back to my seat.  I opened my computer but instead of writing, I observed him. What was his story? I didn’t need to know it, only that there was a man who felt invisible, who was marginalized by society in so many ways, and he had just come into Starbucks to warm up. I wanted him to know that he wasn’t invisible, that I could see him. I could see that he was more than his story. I downed the rest of my coffee, still staring at him staring out the window. I didn’t think too much before I jumped up and went back over to him.

“Sir, I’d like to buy you a cup of coffee.”

I looked deep into his eyes while he registered surprise and he cocked his head as if to say “really?” and I kept eye contact with him - really. The corners of his mouth turned up slowly and he had the most stunning smile. “Yes, I will accept your kind offer.”

I asked him about milk and sugar and he nodded, smiling while he gave me his order.

I got back in line for a refill for me and a grande caffeinated beverage for my new friend and I delivered it to him, and when I went back to my seat I have to say that I watched him enjoy it, feeling so grateful for my own heart and its flexibility. In a matter of seconds, my initial disgust had turned to a genuine interaction with another human being. I felt so grateful for this man, for giving me hope and in my own feelings toward humanity.

I went back to finishing my scene with gusto, and a little later, he came over to me, and bent down a little bit to speak softly.

“You know - I am always grateful for whatever anybody chooses to give me. I am a lucky man.” And with that, he left.

I am a lucky man . . .

All I did was buy him coffee and recognize that his personhood. I’m not sure of the impact on him, but I know that for me, the positive impact of our interaction is still reverberating as I write this.

The key to “happiness” they say, is to practice gratitude daily, remain curious and open, and to share both of those things with others.

The fourth Thursday of this month is merely a reminder of all of these things, even in a world full of doubt and uncertainty, homelessness, mental illness, and wars. There is room. Let’s make room!

So here’s to daily Thanksgiving! (And lots of turkey/tofurkey, stuffing and mashed potatoes today!)

PS And thank you to Starbucks for serving a purpose for the larger community as a civic space.

Movie Trailers, New York, and What it Means to Be Alive

Special guest blogger: Kaley Mamo!

Alecia Whitaker (Wildflower), Writopians Magda, Amanda, David Levithan, Writopians Kaley and Elizabeth at the Jefferson Market Library for Teen Author Reading Night!

Good evening my turtledoves - you are in for a treat as this next post is written by one of my favorite people, high school freshman and Writopian, Kaley Mamo. She is a brilliant and insightful writer and blogs for her high school under her moniker: Confessions of a Teenage Existentialist. Last night a few of us went into the city to go to a Teen Author Reading event hosted by David Levithan down in the West Village at The Jefferson Market Library.  Kaley is here to tell you how fabulous "breaking out of your comfort zone" is!

Going into the city is like watching movie trailers at the theater - the way there is just as exciting as the actual event, if not more so. There’s so much hype during the trip, especially when you’re on a train with your like-minded friends, feeling rebellious and alive because it’s a school night and you have that Global test the next day that you’re never going to study for. Then there’s the hot chocolate that you’ll grab from a deliciously sweet shop as you walk under the twinkling city lights, and you will be liberated by the steaming cup that nearly burns your hands. Suddenly you’re the star of your own teen TV show, be it The Carrie Diaries or Gossip Girl, as you saunter down the street, laughing too loudly and dodging passers-by. And you think of watching movie trailers, because you can feel it - millions of stories at the tips of your fingers, each a new pathway, a new setting and mood and character arc. It all depends on which way you choose to go.

Then you remember what you’re doing there in the first place - you remember you’re seeing a movie, not just the previews. Or in my case, you remember you’re going to a YA author panel to meet the very people that embody your aspirations. David Levithan (Will Grayson, Will Grayson with John Green, Everyday, Boy Meets Boy), Kass Morgan (The 100, now a TV show on the CW), Alecia Whitaker (Wildflower) and more - they’ll all be there. And when you arrive, and you sit and listen and admire and become inspired, you’re overwhelmed in the best of ways. It’s a breathtaking night, and the honking of cars and roaring of sirens as you walk back to Grand Central fuels you. On the way home, you nearly drift to sleep - but the adrenaline (not to mention your friends) keeps you awake.

It’s nights like those that keep me alive. It’s not that I only live for adventures in the city, not that I hate doing anything but pretending I’m an elite, professional twenty-three year old writer who doesn’t have to go to three and a half more years of high school. It’s that to really, truly feel alive, I have to step outside of my comfort zone. My comfort zone being Katonah, or course. When I walk down the New York City streets with my writer friends on my way to an author reading or a poetry performance at the Nuyorican Poets Cafe, I feel the deepest parts of my spirit shake off their early-November sleep. I am a writer of Manhattan, and there is never a time that I feel more like myself than when my friends and I are discussing our latest works and the struggles of writing and life and boys and family and trying, desperately, to live. But we are electrifying our souls as we absorb the arts of the city, the impromptu music underground in a grungy subway, the exquisite accent of our waiter at the diner, the dark mystery of the sky out the window and the way the train shakes with unknown quakes and tremors. (Side note - I’ve decided trains are the most magical form of transportation. Perhaps there will be a blog post about that one day.) And when we discuss the night, we think of movie trailers, because we saw so many snippets of what could-be. We basked in them, and almost forgot the main event. But the trailers have always been my favorite part of going to the movies.

It was an absolute awakening, to realize what made me feel alive - what made me realize that yes, I am a human being. I am a human being with a limited time on this earth, and I understand that I must find what I love, and I must spend every minute that I can doing whatever it is that makes me feel alive. It’s times like these that I don’t feel the overwhelming pointlessness of life that comes with being an Existentialist. I can, for the moment, flick off that pessimistic switch and think of doing the good things, rather than anxiously awaiting all the impending bad that will inevitably come. I listen to the inner clockwork of my mind, hear the ticking that picks up in pace when I write and walk through the city, feel the whirring and explosion of consciousness that comes when I finally feel alive. I am awake, completely awake and aware and I see those movie trailers all around, whispering in my ears that there are so many more stories out there, so many I have yet to discover. So many I will discover with another trip into the city.

Breaking out of your comfort zone is hard. Maybe you’re trapped in your town, or your family, or your friends or class or sports team or your own head. I know I’m trapped in school (see my previous post, Zombie Apocalypses and the Art of Wanting Something More), but there are fleeting moments when you will feel absolutely liberated. Take to the streets of Manhattan and start looking - because believe me, one day you will find them, whether they’re hiding in a cafe or a library or a stadium or concert venue. And even when you have found those moments, the search never really stops. There are always more movie trailers to watch.

The Next Generation of Authors Visit with John Green's Publisher!

How would you describe the world of publishing dear readers? Some look at it as merely another business, a process of supply and demand. But to aspiring authors, it is a world in which they yearn to belong.

So how does one begin?

At Writopia Lab, we focus on discovering and uncovering personal voice through memoir, fiction, dramatic scripts and poetry. Kids and teens work with published authors such as myself who support them in that process.

Writopians are both avid writers AND readers, honing their critical thinking skills through both practices, through delving into other worlds, developing empathy by creating and appreciating complex characters. They have their favorite authors, and of course may dream of being legit published themselves.

"I usually know if a manuscript is for me by the first two sentences," Julie told us late last Friday afternoon. Julie is the one and only Julie Strauss-Gabel, Penguin/Dutton publisher and editor to literary stars such as John Green, Lauren Myracle, Adam Gidwitz, Nina LaCour (and more!)

Julie is a friend and neighbor, and when I had casually asked if I could bring in some of my Writopia teens and college interns for a visit, she was more than game. (She is a veritable star in her own right, and her hyper-intelligence would make her daunting to have as a friend if she wasn't so down to earth and funny.)

"It's all about personal voice." How perfect for her to say to us?

After a quick tour of Penguin's Children's department, encompassing two floors, Julie spent two generous hours talking to us in the conference room, first walking us through the trajectory of her own career - Amherst grad, child development major, internship at Sesame Street - never considering publishing until the first job she got out of college was in subsidiary rights at Disney-Hyperion. She was a new editor at Penguin/Dutton in 2003 and was given a manuscript called Looking for Alaska by a 25 year old unknown author called John Green, and the rest is history!

(And yes, even though my teens are rabid John Green fans, they behaved themselves!)

She walked us through the lengthy process of making a book - from acquiring to several revisions with the author followed by a line edit and THEN copyediting, discussions on book jacket art and then marketing! Anna Jarzab, a colleague of hers from marketing and a published author herself brought us deeper through that maze that usually needs a year of lead time.

"What are you working on right now?" we asked.

Julie smiled slyly. "What am I NOT working on?" She has an armful of books at any given time in different stages of the publishing process. Julie only publishes about nine or ten books a year and is also constantly managing her authors' successful backlists. Publishing so few books a year, she very rarely takes on a new author. Her reputation is as a hard editor, but that is the dream - to find someone who takes an author's talent seriously enough to make them work hard and get the best out of them. After all, that's what I aspire to as a teacher, and what I hope for in an editor myself!

I think that her personal manner inspired my writers more than anything else - Julie talked to her teen and young adult visitors with the utmost respect, as though there was no place she would rather be.

AND she let them choose ARC's to take home! (You're our hero Julie!)

I really wanted to steal all the books there. Plus, I gasped out loud at seeing books I’d been anticipating for years and were not published yet. It was terrifying and thrilling to meet some high-end publishers and learn about the publishing process. -Maxine

Going to Penguin Publishing and meeting Julie Strauss-Gabel was absolutely fantastic. It was intimidating and extremely exciting to learn all about the publishing process - after Friday’s trip, I started brainstorming ideas for a possible novel! I loved getting an up-close look at publishing, and I learned what it takes to become a published author. The trip was so helpful and inspiring. --Kaley

And what about me?  I've published one, written others, and have yet to publish that second novel. Yet I keep my seat at the table not only because of the contacts I've made, but because as I age it becomes less about me and more about others. My dreams and passions have morphed and changed to empowering my students, to arm them with compassion and confidence, to help them on their journey. My friends - fellow authors and editors alike - love that about me.  And they know that I value friendship over publishing. Yes, having another novel out there would be wonderful, but it would be icing on an already rich, delectable cake.

Damn You, Goldfinch!

The other night I had one of those dreams that ran in my head like a movie, or better yet, as a novel. I would not let myself wake up, for I was conscious enough that it was a great story and that I needed to remember it to turn it into said novel. It started with a phone call and a death, and ended with a young man smuggling a painting out of a museum.

Groggy, I force myself to half-sit and scrawl the dream down in my journal, excited about my novel-as-dream, dream-as-novel when it hits me - I am writing the plot of Donna Tartt's latest tour de force, The Goldfinch.

Damn you.

I had just devoured The Goldfinch over the holidays. I read, a captive audience, eschewing time with my family to snuggle in between the pages, to sigh with jealousy, admiration and awe at what writer's can do. The research, the in depth characterizations, the metaphors, the symbolism, the plot twists, the drama!

Masterful.

Deflating.

Inspiring.

“Caring too much for objects can destroy you. Only—if you care for a thing enough, it takes on a life of its own, doesn’t it? And isn’t the whole point of things—beautiful things—that they connect you to some larger beauty?”
― Donna Tartt, The Goldfinch 

Developing Empathy through Writing

I've been thinking a lot about empathy, and that it is paramount to the survival of our humanity. The kind of empathy I'm talking about isn't just the ability to discern what someone else is feeling, but it's having  the empirical knowledge that the differences between self and others aren't as important as the similarities.

Last week I saw this kind of empathy in action when Writopia Lab hosted a life-changing event at the Nuyorican Poets Cafe on the Lower East Side of New York City.

We had thirtytwo teens come and perform their Spoken Word pieces including five of my Writopia "daughters" from Westchester and Connecticut, and my niece and other Writopians from NYC. One of our teachers has been bringing Writopia to treatment centers, and she managed to bring a few of those writers as well. The evening was nothing short of electric. The teens were all from extremely diverse backgrounds - we had every demographic covered, but we identified with every single one as they were speaking from their most authentic selves.

Look at those bright, shining, connected faces!

Those teens were the embodiment of empathy - they were living and breathing EMPATHY.

And of course it's the holiday season that brings about these ruminations. We're told that it's time to connect, yet so many of us feel disconnected. I grew up in the Christian tradition where empathy is the cornerstone, where the birth of Jesus reminds us that we all have God inside of us (Christian or not!). We are called to remember that we are all miracles.

However, the holidays are not miraculous for many people - commercialism is rampant and the divide between the haves and have nots is the greatest. They tend to bring out the best and the worst in humanity when expectations run high and everyone's sense of entitlement peaks.

Entitlement seems to be the opposite of empathy, doesn't it? And in this world we seem to be breeding more of the former and less of the latter. Entitlement separates us from others, separates us from our true selves. And our expectations are so often unconscious! I work hard so I deserve x - well, what if you don't? Who is the arbiter of what we deserve? And what if you don't get x, y, or z?

It's dangerous territory for me as well, and maybe that's why I am so passionate about nurturing kids and teens and their natural, budding sense of empathy, not only through their writing, but through their participation in groups with different dynamics and chemistry. Creating a microcosm of the macrocosm with 3 to 6 other peers. Peers who have the courage to be vulnerable.

If you are struggling, you are not alone. When I was 23 my sense of isolation and misplaced entitlement was life-threatening. It was only through self-discovery and seeing myself in others that I was able to fully come back to life.

And this is why middle school sucks - we desperately want to be like everybody else but we know that we're not, and that's when we start to develop the personas to get us through, and the masks can harden into something that's very hard to take off and we lose the sense of who we are.

So many of us are stuck in a middle school frame of mind!

Writing helps us come back to our sense of self and who we are. And I'm noticing both in kids and adults who are encouraged to write that their masks are more flexible as they grow up.

Don't you think "diversity" should be more of a unifying experience rather than something that separates and "divides" us?

The kids and teens I am privileged to work with remind me of that every day.

Write, breathe, unite.

Why Words Matter: Star-Studded Author Panel at FLMS!

We held a literary event last night at my kids' place of learning, Fox Lane Middle School. It was a veritable authorpalooza. Here I am with authors James Howe and Gae Polisner, gazing at Rebecca Stead.

Community is awesome, isn't it? Communities strive to find common ground and share values. One of our major tasks as human beings is to not only find our place in community, but to help it evolve, grow, and function.

For instance, when I moved to Northern Westchester just over three years ago, I became a de facto member of that community at-large, and have looked for my niches within the larger structure. There's my sweet neighborhood in Bedford Hills, the kids' schools, Writopia Lab and then there's the kid-lit community.

I was asked by another mom to find an author to host an event in December to coincide with the  Book Fair. (And I was thrilled to find out that the school would be using an independent book store, Main Street Books as the vendor.) Knowing my author friends and their beaucoup experience in this arena, I couldn't just ask one. Why not ask a few? We all like each other so much in our community, we love having an excuse to hang out!

And then this past Monday, I got nervous about people showing up. There didn't seem to be any buzz . . . until a few of us shouted out into the universe and people in our community and others helped with email blasts and Facebook posts.

Thank you! We had over 100 people show up - the room was full of not only kids, but librarians and teachers. Our principal, Anne-Marie Berardi was there as well as Superintendents  Jere Hochman and Drew Patrick. So much support!

What a treat to have Newbery Award winner Rebecca Stead, National Book Award winner Judy Blundell, the inimitable James Howe, Michael Northrop, Nora Raleigh Baskin and Gae Polisner. We were regaled not only with their humor, pathos and authenticity, but with their generosity of spirit in signing books and connecting with the audience - our community! I moderated a discussion on Why Words Matter and how reading and writing saves our sanity. So many kids went home with beaming smiles, their hunger for literature satisfied.

                                                           Here's Nora and Michael!

                                                                    Judy and a fan!

            Just look how many kids got to meet and interact with some of their favorite authors!

Thank you to everyone who came out last night to help make it a groundbreaking event at FLMS - we are sure to make this an annual event!

Back in the Saddle?

Hello my turtle doves! I've missed you! My writing self has been quiet for the summer, but I can assure you that FALL is here and I am back in the saddle - back to writing and nurturing my own inner life, back to spreading around the writing love!

How? Why? Because I've shaken up my perspective, had some adventure.

Rob and I took our first vacation in YEARS and took the kids on a road trip through the Colorado Rockies to the Four Corners, back to where we met in Moab, Utah.

Back in the saddle . . . the term has become part of our vernacular from our rich history in the West embodied by the song stylings of the famous cowboy entertainer Gene Autry. And who doesn't think of John Wayne?

But Léna Roy?

Here I am IN the saddle for sure, but not BACK in the saddle, as I am not a horse aficionado. (Being back in the saddle implies that you are returning to doing something that you regularly do.)

I am a writer who couldn't make time for writing this summer, so I needed to shake things up. That's what we need to get back to doing what we love - a shift in perspective.

The whole trip in and of itself helped with that as the five of us hiked four or five miles a day in various gorgeous environs.

But here, something is "new". I am sitting astride Rebel, and Rebel is giving me a different perspective on the landscape, a fresh experience. I have never had to put a bandana over my face because of the masses of dust kicked up by horses hooves. There were sixteen of us, crisscrossing through streams and going up and down the rocks in Castle Creek, led by the good folks at Red Cliffs Lodge on Hwy 128.

I have never had such a good time on a horse and although I feared his name at first, Rebel took good care of me. I had to get in the saddle to realize again that I am a composite of all of my experiences, and yet so much more. I am more than any story that I tell myself about myself. And I don't need to be afraid of the stories I need to tell. (Or need to be written?)

It's a life-long project and journey,  this confidence game.

So I am back in the saddle so to speak, as I hope you all are - with the ability to look at your life and yourself as an artist with fresh eyes.

And more is coming!

Missing pictures

The only thing missing is the pictures.

But here's the thing: I can't be present and take pictures at the same time. I know that other people can - in fact, the camera helps them to focus even more.

But not me.
              (My hands shake.)

The only thing missing is the pictures - I can't  PROVE to you how wonderful, how inspiring, how empowering the end-of-the-year stuff with students can be.

Thursday night: Writopia Lab workshop and Open Mic at the Mt. Kisco Library. These kids show me every day what it means to take risks, and how important writing is. They shone so bright and proved what community can do. I was so proud!

But, I didn't take any pictures, I was watching and listening too intently. Bearing witness.

Then straight to see my fabulous intern's senior presentation at her high school. She is off to college y'all. Done. (No pictures.)

Friday: my daughter Scarlett's dance "recital" with Dance Naiad. Now I know that you know that I love kids and I love their recitals no matter what, but this one blew me away  - it was so professional. I had no idea. The older dancers - the teens - were not just excellent in their technique, they were true artists. They embodied the dance with passion and intensity that seemed beyond their years. They took my breath away.

But guess what? No pictures.

And no pictures this afternoon when I hosted another Writopia Lab Open Mic at a completely packed, standing room only Voracious Reader in Larchmont. Man.

Missing pictures. (Is that a metaphor for something else?)

No.

Life is awesomely beautiful and full of meaning.

The only thing missing is the (darn) pictures!

Balance, Writing and Dairy Dreams

Everyone is looking for balance in their lives, for all of the pieces of the pie to have enough  . . . girth. But sometimes trying to balance everything stresses us out so much that we fall off kilter and lose our way.

I have been perfectly happy just balancing my work, family and health these past couple of months, but I had to drop my writing in order to stay steady. I've lost 15+ pounds since March 15th. YAY!

Now I'm ready to add novel writing back, but I don't want the other parts to teeter totter. (It's amazing how much we need to do to take care of ourselves, isn't it?)  I have to regroup and get back to my novel, get back to writing essays, even if it's small.  I just gave myself a music prompt and posted what I wrote, going to many places in my heart. That was fun. (Two posts in one day - whoa now!)

I need to write an outline. I have the setting and primal character arc - I've already written 25k or so, but I don't know where it's going!!!! Thus the refusal to get butt-in-chair AND since I have gone dairy-free . . . I can't hang out at Starbucks anymore. I might as well be going to a bar.

In fact, I had a dairy dream the other night. Like a drunk dream, you know? (Well, for those who don't, a drunk dream, important to those in recovery, is a dream where you think you've messed up and slipped but you really haven't. You wake up either a) grateful, or b) with a new understanding that you really need to stay away from that substance.)

I dreamed that I had cup after cup of coffee with half and half and sugar. You see, since I've taken the dairy away, I don't drink as much coffee. Maybe I'll have a small cup once in a while with some almond milk. It's the coffee that I miss the most. It's working in Starbucks. But green tea just ain't the same. (I love green tea, but Starbucks is for strong coffee damnit!) I miss coffee with half and half more than I miss ice cream.

So instead of going to Starbucks this morning, I came back home after spin class and stuck in my ear phones and went back to 1986 to write the previous essay about a certain night at The Palladium, dancing to Art of Noise. Then I put on some Daft Punk and decided to write this and come up with a semi-public game plan. My readers, will you keep me accountable?

1) outline novel
2) 300 words a day - start out small. Can always write more! But something every day to keep characters in head.
3) one personal essay a week, based on a song from the 70's or 80's

Thank you for your support y'all!

What Does an Award Mean Anyway?

Greetings and salutations!

I still have a grin on my face from our first ever award ceremony as the regional affiliate for the Scholastic Art and Writing Awards where we were shown what a sincere and warm community we really are. Reid Castle at Manhattanville College was the perfect venue, and it was a thrill to see each writer come up to the mic and say their names. Our keynote speaker, Rachel Vail, spoke to us writer to writer and moved us so much that she received a standing ovation.

 
I had the privilege of making the closing remarks, and I thought I would share them with you . . .

I have a student who, after winning a silver key, keeps asking me what winning an award really means. I love this question. You've won an award, you've been recognized, and now what?

It would really mean more if I won a gold key, wouldn’t it? But then, If I won a gold, would I have reached my peak? If I didn’t win anything, does that mean I’m not a writer?

Is art about winning and losing?

No grasshopper, it isn’t.

Kurt Vonnegut said: “The arts are a very human way of making life more bearable. Practicing an art, no matter how well or badly, is a way to make your soul grow, for heaven's sake. Sing in the shower. Dance to the radio. Tell stories. Write a poem to a friend, even a lousy poem. Do it as well as you possible can. You will get an enormous reward. You will have created something.”  
 
You are making your soul grow, you are daring to have a voice, to share and shine your light with the world. You are making your mark.

It’s not about winning or losing . . . but that doesn’t mean I’m not proud of you for putting yourself out there, and it doesn’t mean that we shouldn’t celebrate all of our successes along the way. After all, you may win a gold next year, or an honorable mention. Or nothing!

And that’s not only the life of a writer, that’s life.

So don’t let the award define you. Instead, use it as inspiration and affirmation to keep writing, to keep discovering, to keep developing your inner life.
 
Let it motivate you to solidify and expand your creative community, to find mentors and peers who both support and push you to the edges of what you think you can do.
 
You have found a nurturing writing community that cares about your writing. You all took a risk and made yourselves vulnerable by submitting, and now we have become this new Hudson-to-Housatonic Writing Community.

Let's close tonight with promising to continue this conversation about art and the artist and what it all means. An award is a bright light on the journey, to keep us going, but it doesn’t change our intrinsic value as artists and humans. It reminds us that we can achieve greatness, and that we can develop wings with which to fly.
 
Keep writing; see you all soon!

A Prayer for us from Madeleine L'Engle

My grandmother, Madeleine L'Engle, was known to be a woman of great faith. This greatness of faith came from her own struggle with it.  Indeed, I believe that she wrote what she needed to hear, hope, believe. In A Wrinkle in Time, we all identify with fear of the threat of darkness, and wonder who or what is going to stand between us and IT.

It is the same in the books following. This poem below is St. Patrick's Rune from A Swiftly Tilting Planet, which is itself an adaptation of The Lorica of St. Patrick. (Of which it is said that God turned St. Patrick and his followers into deer when they were pursued.)

Who comes between you and the powers of darkness? I can't even begin to write about what happened on Friday morning, but I can share my struggle and my DESIRE for faith with you - indeed, maybe that is how we can help each other, and hug our own children tighter:  Children lean toward hope and away from cynicism. Let us be childlike, and place this prayer between us and despair.

St. Patrick's Rune

At Tara in this fateful hour
I place all Heaven with its power
And the sun with its brightness,
And the snow with its whiteness,
And the fire with all the strength it hath,
And the lightning with its rapid wrath,
And the winds with their swiftness along their path,
And the sea with its deepness,
And the rocks with their steepness,
And the earth with its starkness:
All these I place
By God’s almighty help and grace
Between myself and the powers of darkness!

Rose Colored Glasses

Happy Thanksgiving!

It doesn't take much for me to cultivate an attitude of gratitude: all I have to do is think back to a Thanksgiving in my early 20's when I had been so heaped with misfortune and spiritual blindness that I couldn't think of a single thing to be grateful for.  I was sinking into a deep depression, and it would take a miracle to get me out of it.

Has anyone else been in so dark a place?

Of course you have - we all struggle.

I kept trying on different glasses with which to see the world, but until I learned and believed that a miracle can be as simple as a change in perspective, a change in attitude, I would keep falling back into the darkness.

Cynics may roll their eyes and say that I don't live in real world, but I disagree. How can there only be one reality, one truth? How can cultivating an attitude of gratitude and a relationship with a Higher Power be anything but courageous?

Being in a state of gratitude is a daily practice, and I often miss the mark because, well, shit does happen, right? In our own lives and on a global scale - murder, war, suicide, natural disasters like Sandy, cruelty.

So we make a decision to practice kindness. We make a decision to live in the moment, because tomorrow it could all be gone. We make the decision that things - like computers (broke mine) manuscripts (lost mine) don't make us who we are. When I focus on the small irritations - our house isn't finished yet . . .we can't go on vacation like x, y and z . . . I'm overweight . . . they become larger than life and paralyze me from feeling grateful. When I focus on wanting what I have already, I experience abundance. When I remember how I was lifted out of a truly dark and terrible place by a new pair of glasses, there's nothing left but gratitude.

I have wonderful friends, a family that I cherish, work that is fulfilling, and an inner life that nurtures my creativity and keeps me writing no matter what.

So yes, I am putting on my rose-colored glasses not to be a Pollyana, but as a conscious choice to view the world as a place of abundance. Life is short!

What glasses are you wearing?

Write What You Know?

I don't know what I know until I've written it.

Until I've listened, until I've opened up myself enough to the possibility that I don't know everything, to mystery.

How can we know something without stretching our imaginations to discover and explore? What a wonderful adventure writing is!  To know something or someone is to be open to exploration and discovery. Knowledge and experience shouldn't be rigid - we need to be flexible in our definitions, and open to the possibility that we don't know everything. My imagination knows things, my subconscious knows things, and yours does too. There is something you know in everything that you write.

Many of us start a project writing what we know in a concrete way until it begins to take on a life of its own. Or we start out completely the opposite, wanting to learn about something and finding our own truths, knowledge, within the story.

Our first novels are often the most autobiographical. I happen to have experience with alcoholism and recovery in my own family, so it makes an appearance in between the pages of EDGES. Another novel was inspired by the Reality TV show I was on, and the novel I'm writing now is based on something I had on my bucket list when I was a teenager: to be a performer on a cruise ship. (It's not on my bucket list anymore, although I think that writing about it counts, don't you?)

Every novel, story, even blog post, has a different trajectory. We get stuck, because we don't "know" something. I don't know where this is going . . . how many times have I told myself that?  But our job is to keep writing, even through the undulations of self doubt. I practice writing something almost every day, even if it's just one hundred words.

Yes, it may be NaNoWriMo, but don't let low word count get you down, keep writing, and know that you will get better as you practice, whether the words fly across the screen or drip slowly like molasses: keep plugging away and keep the faith.

In other news, I am selling my own copies of Edges! If you would like a personalized copy for yourself or someone you love, I will charge only $10, which includes the shipping.

Read and write on my loves!

My Inner Bully and Writing in November

I'm feeling like a wet blanket this morning, and it's not because of the mountain of snow outside my door. Is it the Sandy (powerless for a week) and election hangover?

Maybe a little bit, most mostly I'm feeling resentful that I signed up for National Novel Writing Month this year and my lack of progress is a slap in the face. Why did I do this to myself?

My inner bully is waving her fists in the air and yelling discouraging words.

Go AWAY. Or at least whisper so I can think.

The process of writing every novel is unique - not just from writer to writer, but from novel to novel. I have written four novels and published one, all first drafts "shitty" and written very fast, by the seat of my pants. This one is different, doesn't want to go so fast and I've done some things differently to make me less of a "pantser" without having an outline. I have a synopsis, a setting, a protagonist/ antagonist and supporting characters, I have 6000 words yet this novel does not want to be written in a linear fashion.

6000 words is good for a week where the kids were out of school most of the time and I still had other work to do as well.

On election day, the kids were finally back in school but I was too nervous to write fiction, so I wrote a blog post instead. It was a relatively light op ed piece (by political standpoints) on voting to move forward with Obama at the helm. I decided to post it on our local Patch as well, and even though I was scared to put my heart out there, I was also excited. Why shouldn't I have a voice? I have been known to NEVER give my opinion on certain things for fear of conflict.

Yet it only took three nasty responses for me to ask that the post be taken down. (But don't worry, you can still read it here!) I had a "voice" for less than twenty-four hours, but I did not want to be the target for people who needed to vent somewhere because their guy didn't win. I felt misunderstood, as I'm sure they did, but their comments left me no room for response or to seek to understand. I felt BULLIED.

So I didn't work on my NaNo Piece yesterday either, watching the snow storm and moving through my feelings instead.

And now the kids have just gone off to school after a two hour delay and here I am, writing to see if I can let myself off the hook for not writing, so that I can write again. Does that make any sense? I need to take my inner bully head on - I know that I can't get rid of her entirely, but I can't let her take the fun out of writing - I can't let her make it a chore.

Writing is my way of processing the world - I don't need my bully to co-opt NaNoWriMo to tell me to write - it's who I am.

NaNoWriMo is not the bully - it's not the enemy - it's a fabulous community tool. Doing things as a collective can give us energy and restore our faith in the process.

The only way that bullying works on me is to get me to shut down - it's never gotten me to do anything.

I just now can start getting back to my routine of writing two to three hours a day, so we'll see what happens, okay? I'm unhooking myself from the lofty goal of writing 50,000 words in a month. And I'll try to get off of Facebook too for those hours - although a life-line during the storm AND the election - it is VERY distracting.

And congratulations to anyone and everyone who has taken the NaNo plunge!

The Election, Mother Nature and Gratitude

This year, Election Day happens to fall on a beautiful crisp autumn day in the North East, sandwiched between two storms. My friends and I are all giddy to have heat and electricity again, AND to exercise our right to vote. We are cautiously optimistic, yet I am still anxious, proven by the fact that I can't seem to focus on any project for any reasonable amount of time.

However, Mother Nature and the election have both helped me to see the bigger picture.

I run around like everybody else on a daily basis, sweating the small stuff and working hard at keeping the faith.

Now in this election and with these storms, our faith is being put to the test: What do we really believe in? What matters to us?

Like everybody else, I worry about money.

And it becomes crystal clear: my bottom line is NOT about money, it always has and always will be  about human rights; being an individual in a larger community where we support and help one another. Yes, I am a huge idealist. But look at who I share genetics with? Writers, artists, priests, social workers . . .

Human rights encompass women's rights, gay rights, educational rights. Not to mention FEMA, war, health care, the environment - so much more. 

My youngest daughter went around kissing the heating vents and the fridge this morning. My eldest son is showing signs of maturity, intellectually, physically and spiritually. My middle son still hugs me and tells me he loves me several times a day. They are growing up and I want them to have a world where we acknowledge the science of climate change, where they won't feel less-than if they aren't wealthy, or marginalized if they or their friends are gay,  or pushed around for having a vagina.

Being a human is messy, complicated and beautiful. 

 

I voted for Obama in '08 and I certainly voted for him again this morning so that he gets to finish the job he started - which I believe is going to help everybody, and not just a select few.

There are people I care deeply about who vote differently and to you I say - whatever happens, let us seek to understand each other, and to understand that our integrity and conviction is what makes us better people, and the planet a safer place. Let us look for the things that we have in common and not the things which divide us. I still want to be in conversation with you and be in community with you, now more than ever.

It is the human condition that warms us, and our humanity that is the most sacred.
 

Am I worried about the Nor'Easter coming tomorrow? (That's something we can agree on.) Yes! (And still no generator!)

 

And another thing: NaNoWriMo is sooooo not happening for me right now - but I love all of the writing mojo going on around me and I encourage everyone to ready, set, write!!!!

 

Tales from the Conference

"Challenge every word you write, forget about publishing and have fun," Tom Robbins told us at lunch on Saturday as he lounged in a chair on the stage, looking more hipster than octogenarian. His words echo the ones I have been telling myself lately, and as I ride the train back to New York, leaving Richmond, Virginia and the James River Writers' Conference I feel invigorated by my time with other writers on every stage of the journey.

From pre-published to poet laureates and everything in between, we are one big writing community.

It was thrilling to be asked to be a speaker and panelist, to travel and make new friends, and stay with old ones (Kristi and Adam Austin. Kristi got me down to Richmond after EDGES came out, and as conference chair, brought me down again.)

I arrived in time for a cocktail party on Friday night, held in a grand old Southern house where I had some fabulous one on one conversations with the incredible Eleanor Brown (Weird Sisters), Josh Cane, agent Ayesha Pande and I met debut author Kristen-Paige Madonia (Fingerprints of You) and Gigi Amateau (Come August, Come Freedom). It was inspiring to learn about the James River Writers and how it came to be, how the torch has been passed and that now they are celebrating the tenth conference. (I'd love to have something like this in Westchester!)

Saturday was my opportunity to soak in the whole conference and meet lots of people. I had never been to a conference like this before and I was amazed. Allan Wolf blew us away with his performance poetry in the opening session, followed by "First Pages", a panel where two agents and an editor gave feedback on some brave writer's first page of their manuscript. I hadn't realized that agents and editors make a habit of going to conferences to find talent. (I know, where have I been?) So all of you pre-published authors, get thee to a conference! (I know that Tom Robbins says not to worry about being published, but it can't hurt to network!)

There were two success stories on display from the conference of 2009 where authors Jeri Watts and Lana Krumwiede (Freakling) met their respective editor (Liz Bicknell) and agent (Molly Jaffa with Folio) and are now published authors with Candlewick!

It was a whirlwind of fun and of sharing ideas, and we didn't stop. A bunch of us went out to dinner in downtown Richmond, and got to bed very late!

And guess who else I met - Malinda Lo! (Ash, The Huntress, Adaptation)  She is the coolest.

On Sunday morning, it was Camisha Jones' turn to blow us away with her spoken word poetry - she is relatively new to the scene, but this is someone to watch out for - surely a prodigious talent! Later that morning I had the opportunity to be on a panel with her called, Finding the Time, Keeping the Faith. Joining us were editor Cherise Fisher and Jeri Watts. We all had a great time, having much to say on the subject! (I brought my glitter with me, and even anointed another young writer at the end!) I led a lunchtime discussion on teaching creative writing and then I was on another panel called Creating Atmosphere with Virginia poet laureate Kelly Cherry and  author Emily Mitchell (The Summer of the War).

The conference closed with Pitch-a-palooza, the American Idol of pitches as created by husband and wife team David Henry Sterry and Arielle Eckstut (The Essential Guide to Getting Your Book Published). I heard that several authors were asked for partial or full manuscripts - awesome!

I was even able to meet with my friend Randy, songwriter and singer for Lamb of God for a strong cup of coffee and intense conversation about the value of art and our obligations as human beings. He spent the month of July in a prison in Czeckoslavakia - you can read the Rolling Stone article here.

On that tantalizing note, Randy got me back to Kristi and we went out for pizza with some of the JRW crew to celebrate the completion of a successful conference. I'm so proud of Kristi, and I hope to be invited back next year!

Now I'd better practice what I preach and use the rest of my time on the train for fiction writing - although Malinda's book Adaptation is calling me . . .