Restorying Life

MIA

2010-08-23T09:21:00.000-07:00

Yes, I have been missing in action... in the action of writing on a daily basis and posting weekly. Hell, I haven't even posted annually in a number of years.

But... this summer I went to Taos and spent a week with Natalie Goldberg and 30 other women and 2 men. We had writing practice.

What's that?

Just what it says... we practiced writing. We read other authors... I'd never read James Baldwin's Giovanni's Room. (I still can remember exquisite lines from it!) We meditated... We stretched... our bodies... and our courage to write about the underbelly of relationships.

We learned to trust ourselves to rite what we needed to discover about ourselves.

We learned to write badly in order to break down the fear we had of writing the truth, writer's block be damned.

We learned to listen, really listen to each other's literary voice.

It wasn't about plot outlines or character development or marketing secrets... it was about the core of what writers must do--just as musicians d0--practice.

Just practice.

Prompt: What do you need to practice?

Listen to your body

2008-11-26T18:04:00.000-08:00

I'm teaching a class at the Jung Center. Last week I gave the participants a prompt to write about in class and gave them 10 minutes. It's called freewriting by most people--I call it a fast write--because you don't really have time to think. Just write as quickly as you can about the topic and see what bubbles up. Sometimes people can be surprised because their unconscious breaks through.

The prompt was: Listen to your body. What is it telling you?

This is what I wrote:

My fingers are taped but still bleeding--I cannot scribble these words without pain. The soles of my feet are so dry that I have deep cuts on my insole and on my heels--I cannot walk w/o pain. My eyes are tired--I rub them red, and I lick my dry lips. I'm shriveling, like a dried orange peel, once moist but now parchment. I'm dry and cracked as a desert under a merciless sun. I am parched. Where is the water? I need to find the fountain and drink my fill or die.

Write it, record it, photograph it... capture it!

2008-08-22T11:26:00.000-07:00

This morning I was having a conversation with a colleague about social networks, blogs, discussion boards and other e-communications. (My colleague is the college's web master and the resident guru on electronic communications.) He made a comment that really hit home with me. He opined that information is becoming so instantaneous and so disposable that we are losing our history--our personal and institutional memory--of the ways things evolve and how they are connected. We have the attitude that if something didn't happen in our lifetime, we don't really care. It's ancient history.

For example, everyone in my age group can tell you where he or she was when John Kennedy was shot. College students weren't born yet, and so, if the truth be told, they don't really get engaged when the subject is brought up. The same is true when students are asked to analyze the significance of MLK's "I Have a Dream" speech. Even 9/11 is rapidly becoming "ancient history" belonging to older siblings because this year's college freshmen were in the 5th grade and only remember that their teacher was crying or that they got to go home early. It didn't have the same impact on them as it did on, say, their older sister or brother who was a senior and in the student ROTC program.

My point is, one of the strengths of sharing the stories of our lives is that we lived it--and we need to share those stories so that when our younger siblings or children experience crises--and they will--that they can find solace and hope in our struggle and survival.

Writing prompt: Write about the rising price of gasoline and how it has changes your daily life.

Music and memories

2008-05-06T09:19:00.000-07:00

I went to the the store this morning and bought a copy of Richard Simmons' Sweatin' to the Oldies, 20th anniversary edition. I've been trying to find a way to start moving my body again. Inertia is a powerful barrier to overcome. But Richard is a skilled motivator, and the oldies are just the elixir to get me high enough to swing my hips and shake my bootee.

What is it about the music of our youth? Well, quite frankly, because it is the music of our youth, we feel an energy that electrifies us. I'm not 62... or even 26. I'm 16 again, and with a sense of wonder about the world outside of Huntsville, TX, and a sense of adventure to explore edges of propriety. Great Balls of Fire! Okay, okay... Great Balls of Fire was actually popular in 1957, but it was still requested often on the "Pick-a-Tune" program on KSAM radio. My older brother Stone liked the tune a lot, so naturally I did too. I remember reading in one of the gossip magazines at the drugstore about Jerry Lee Lewis marrying his thirteen year old cousin. Mercy me! In a couple of years I could be marrying someone famous and leaving my little bitty hometown. The possibilities in my future boggled my imagination.

Fast forward. It's My Party (Leslie Gore, 1963) was a recurring theme during 1963. My boyfriend Jimmy broke up with me to date a classmate, and she had the nerve to request this song in my name on Pick-a-Tune. (Yes, Pick-a-Tune was a long running program that adolescents adored.) I, of course, took great delight in requesting Judy's Turn to Cry in her name when Jimmy returned to me by summer.

Neither of us ended up with tall, lanky, sexy Jimmy Scott, but we sure sharpened our claws on each other's psyche. I remember that I left her something in my senior will (remember those?) and it was very, very catty. Oh the drama of young lives.

Writing Prompt: Listen to some of the songs popular during your high school years and write about the memories the songs conjure up.

Weeds of busy-ness

2008-04-07T14:42:00.000-07:00

The weeds of busy-ness are taking over my life. Why can't I be content to "be" in life instead of constantly "doing"? It's as if I don't think my life counts unless I've got seven projects going at the same time.

This is NOT productive; this IS stressful.

I took an online test to find out my actual age (as opposed to my chronological one) and to get a prediciton for how much longer I will live, given my current lifestyle.

Bad news. If I keep going like I am, I'll be dead in less than two years.

I need to refocus on becoming a human being and retire from my merry-go-round of doing project after project after project, which does nothing more than drain me. It's not as if someone else couldn't do these things. It wouldn't even matter if these projects fell by the wayside and were left unfinished. (I'm telling you, no one would notice except me.)

Wow, that's a revelation.

Prompt: Write about the busy-ness that is taking over your life.

Why write memoir?

2008-02-20T19:38:00.000-08:00

Every so often I feel sort of guilty about being so enchanted with writing about my life--my childhood, my religion, my heritage, my family, my values, my, my, my, and me, me, me.

However, as a race of people, we are intrigued by our history and by our personal journeys through this life. We write to preserve our experience, and we write to understand and make peace with our past, and we write to share what we've learned.

Anne Lamott writes: "There is a door we all want to walk through, and writing can help you find it and open it. Writing can give you what having a baby can give you: it can get you to start paying attention, can help you soften, can help you wake up." (Bird by Bird, 1995)

Prompt: What "door" to the past do you want to open?

Holiday Madness

2007-11-01T13:35:00.000-07:00

It's that time again... hurry, hurry, hurry. Time's running out. Have you made the list? Checked it twice? Did you order the turkey from Greenberg?

Yes, the holidays are hectic. But they are also times when family and friends get together and reminesce. This holiday season you may want to set up the video (off in the corner but with a wide-angle view so that it captures everyone sitting at the table) and have each person tell a favorite story about someone else at the table.

For example, if I were sitting at the table with my two brothers and my parents, I'd tell the story about the time my older brother put everything on his hamburger--everything except the beef, that is. He had tomatoes, lettuce, cheese, pickles, onions... you get the picture. It wasn't until my dad noticed there was a beef patty left on the plate and asked, "Who didn't get a burger?" that my brother discovered he'd left out the most important ingredient--meat! The ending of the story is that he ended up having two sandwiches that night... one meatless and one with beef!

This happened when my older brother was six or seven. He is sixty-four now, but we still laugh till our bellies hurt when we remember that summer evening when he was almost finished with his sandwich before he looked between the bun and asked, "Where's my beef?"

Okay, you get the idea. Your turn...

Personal Mission Statement

2007-10-25T13:30:00.000-07:00

There are some cool places on the web that can help you formulate a personal mission statement. Here is one of my favorites. Here is another.

Why do you want to do this? There are many reasons, I guess, but I think the best reason is that a personal mission statement helps you connect with your values.

If, for example, you say in your mission statement that you value family, what evidence can you give? Are you putting a priority on family time, or are you working overtime at your job?

If you're working overtime, you need to do one of two things: rewrite yur mission statement to match your actions or realign your actions to match your mission statement.

Writng Prompt: Write a personal mission statement.

Plant me a story

2007-07-23T16:13:00.001-07:00

I read the most interesting article by AP reporter Melissa Kossler Dutton in my Sunday paper about botanical legacies. Yep, you read that right. The title of the article is "Heirloom plants propagate memories." (Someone on the copy desk had a pun time writing that headline!) Dutton recounts people's experience of receiving transplants of a flower, bush, plant, tree from a relative.

She writes:

Every spring Mike Milton receives a joyful reminder of his grandmother. The bright yellow blooms on the flowering bush transplanted from her yard in southeast Louisiana reawaken memories of the lessons and values she instilled in him.

"I can't look at it without thinking of family members and stories," Milton, a Presbyterian minister in Chattanooga, TN, said.

This is not something new. There are family stories about relatives who sewed seeds into the hem of a dress or shirt and brought the seeds with them when they immigrated to America. When they arrived to their new home, they opened the seam, recovered the seeds and planted them. Dave Whitinger, who runs a garden website says the seeds from descendents of some of those plants are still in use today. His website is a forum where gardeners who have an interest in these types of plants can swap growing tips.

What a wonderful "earthy memento" -- bringing something from your old home to your new home--or giving a newley married couple who is leaving home to begin a home together.

A true reminder of one's roots.

Hip, slick and cool

2007-07-16T19:47:00.000-07:00

Language is the way we communicate with each other, but there are different languages for different occasions. For example, the language we use at work is different than the language we use with our lover. And teenagers invent slang language so they can communicate with each other without adults interfering.

Writing prompt: Write a story about the slang expressions used in your day, and share the story with others in your age group. You'll soon be reliving shared ememoriessee how those words helped define your generation.

I'm baaaaack

2007-07-11T17:39:00.000-07:00

It's been a while since I've posted here. What can I say... life can get very crowded. I have another blog and I guess I've been playing favorites. But--summer is here and I can slow down and melt under the Texas sun in humid Houston, TX. Hey, at least I'm not having to fight the freeway traffic for a couple of months. I'm working from home through the miracle of the Internet. I may be techno-phobic (and I am) but I also love the magic.

I have decided that I am going to go to the gym every other day (I first thought I'd go every day, but today was too hot to venture outside) and to write every day. At first I decided I would write a short novel--hey, it's possible if I write every day!--but, I've decided not to lock myself in. There are a couple of contests coming up... a short fiction at Glimmer Press and a memoir at Story Circle Network. Plus, I have five assignments from an eNewsletter. (I'm gonna need that time in the gym or I'm gonna have a double wide butt by the time August rolls around.

A few of my favorite things

2007-03-21T11:24:00.000-07:00

I ran across a teacher's homepage (Mrs. Hoffman) on the Internet and under fun things to know about her, she posted her favorite things. You can see her list by clicking here. The idea of listing my favorite things intrigued me, so here are mine:

Daisies… coffee… writers pod… Texas… road trips… Blue Bell ice cream… motorcycles… fireworks… pajamas… wood burning fireplaces… church music… my children… books… beaches… midnight… Our Lady of Guadalupe… autumn leaves… breakfast for supper… my cousin Bubbles… telling stories… country people… small towns… Murray family reunions… fudge… chick lit… painted toenails… Italy… puppy dog kisses… Spanglish… peach tea… poetry readings… funky earrings… cheeseburgers & fries… pine trees… limes… candles… quilts… homegrown tomatoes… afternoon naps… Christmas… springtime… Willie Nelson… diet Coke… friendship… Holy Communion…Levi jeans... fireflies… boot-scootin’ music… rocking chairs… bookstores… freedom… silver dollars… log cabins… symphony… Festival Hill… summer rain… kissing… daydreaming… laughter… Grand Canyon…

Now its' your turn.

Writers' retreat

2007-03-19T12:40:00.000-07:00

I spent last weekend in Round Top, TX at Festival Hill. This is a place where fairies play with muses and our retreat leader Susan Wittig Albert regularly sent us out to play with our words amidst the butterflies and buttercups.

We each brought a short narrative piece, and over the weekend we added dialogue, speech tags and even a meaningful flashback and a metaphor or two that added meaning and interest to the piece that merely "telling" did not do.

Is it possible to remember conversations accurately? Susan says no. She points out that most of us can't remember even our part of a conversation that we had a breakfast, never mind a conversation we had with our mothers twenty years ago. If we do remember a part of a conversation ("Because I'm your mother, and I said so.") it is probably because we've heard that sentence repeatedly. (Oh, yes.)

Even though entire conversations can't be recollected, we can use dialogue to make a memoir more interesting. For example, instead of writing My parents were so proud of me, you could create dialogue:

"Feel how heavy it is," I said as I handed my dad the first place medal.

"I couldn't be any prouder if I'd won it myself," Momma said slipping her arm around my waist.

Dad ran his thumb over the engraved brass. "You ran a fine race, kiddo." His eyes gleamed with pride.

Momma hugged me. "She's got the fastest feet in the family."

Okay, now you try...

Prompt: Write about a time when someone said "I love you," and meant it.

Mea culpa

2006-10-12T14:12:00.000-07:00

Forgive me for not posting in months and months and months.

The fact is, I have a new blog http://blogs.chron.con/lifewriting and I have been posting on it twice a week. Come over and visit.

Poetry as a muse

2006-08-08T14:02:00.000-07:00

Here's an idea for churning up memories:

Pick up a book of poetry and take the first line as a memory tickler. I did this recently, except it was the second line that jumped out at me: "If you meet the Buddha on the road, kill him," which some of you will remember is also the name of a really cool book. The line brought up memories of being at that place in my life when I wanted answers about having happiness--oh yes, we all get to that point at some time in our lives (usually in adolescence and again in midlife angst). But, guess what, I discovered that the answers to my life journey can't come from outside of me. It's a journey of self-discovery.

The line of poetry lead me to write about a value that I want to pass on to my grandchildren. By reminiscing about my own crisis and angst, I wrote about that time in a short personal reflection so that the value is not passed on in a pedantic way, but, instead, as "This was my experience and this is what I learned... "

It will be up to them whether they learn from my lesson, but at least, they will know they're not alone when they face a similar time.

Dates to Remember

2006-07-16T20:25:00.000-07:00

I saw an interesting writing prompt the other day: "List ten of the most important dates in your life. (Your birthday doesn't count.)"

Well, maybe your birthday doesn't count, but birthdays are important dates in my life. In fact, I have two of them, the one my parents gave me and the one I chose for myself. The one my parents gave me is New Year's Eve, and I have to tell you that everyone remembers that date. I have never really liked it much. When I was young, it was too close to Christmas, and I always felt like my parents just held back one of my Christmas gifts to give me a week later. Later, when I got old enough to drink, it just got too crazy. As my friend's dad used to say: "It's amateur night." Everyone seems to be hell bent on getting knee-walking drunk and screaming into the night (or passing out) by the midnight hour. And don't even think about going out to dinner without paying premium--that is, if you remembered to make reservations a month earlier. No one is really safe from the insanity of New Year's Eve. Even if you try to stay home, you feel like crawling under your bed to hide from the stray bullets when the yokels grab their Saturday night specials and other handguns and shoot at the moon. (What goes up must come down, and more often than not, the newscasters' lead story becomes the innocents who get wounded--or worse--by the reckless celebration.)

My second birthday is the best. It is in July, and since I am usually on vacation, I can plan anything I choose. Last year I bought tickets to an Agatha Christie mystery at the Alley Theater and took ten of my closest friends. This year I bought myself 30 long stem roses and a card that said how much I am loved. I dressed to the nines, and my friend and I went to Morton's steakhouse where we dined. The menu consisted of mouth-watering beefsteak tomatoes with fresh bleu cheese dressing, 6 oz. Filet, and grilled asparagus. The waiter insisted we celebrate with the chocolate-filled chocolate "something" and vanilla bean ice cream. Omigod... imagine a miniature chocolate cake with thick warm chocolate syrup oozing from the middle. Duncan Hines will never touch my lips again.

My cousin has a second birthday, too. She was born on Dec. 26. Enough said. Her dad switched birthdays with her when she was small because even he recognized the unfairness of her having to compete with Jesus. After she grew up and her folks decided she was old enough to go back to her original birthday, she decided she'd just keep both. She always takes the day off from work on her second birthday and buys herself a hostess cupcake and puts a candle atop it and buys herself several cards and gifts that she has purchased during the year.

I'm telling you, having two birthdays is the only way to really take care of yourself. Everyone should have a special day that THEY choose as their very own day, and they should treat themselves very, very well that day and honor their magnificence. The point is, we should not be limited in the way we treat ourselves kindly, and I, for one, think we should find more ways to be good to ourselves so that we can spread that goodness to others who may not have the imagination, creativity and (okay I'll say it) the daring to celebrate themselves.

This is not a day for others to throw a party for you, or for others to tell you how dear you are, or for others to acknowledge your sweet existence. This is YOUR day and so it is up to YOU to take the time to cherish you.

In other words, take responsiblity for yourself and claim your time to be cherished by the one who will never leave you... YOU! I promise, you will make some wonderful memories for yourself.

2006-06-17T17:24:00.000-07:00

In 1961 I saw the movie, "Splendor in the Grass," starring Natalie Wood and Warren Beatty. The movie was about young love drunk with lust and the dilemma of "good girls" and boys who love them. The movie would seem smalzy today and kids would probably groan as loudly over the scenes as they do when they see "Marijuana Madness." But the emotional quagmire and rigid rules of the 1950s were just as repressing and downright insane in Huntsville, Texas, in 1961, as they were being depicted on screen.

After the movie, my friend Gary B. Ashe and I were sitting in the grass in front of Old Main at Sam Houston State College, overlooking our hometown. Gary B. was in his senior year, and I was a sophomore, and we were talking about the Wordsworth poem recited in the movie and its meaning to us. (I think that movie probably had as much impact on teenagers and their appreciation of poetry as Harry Potter has had with children and their renewed appreciation of fiction.)

Gary B. was reminiscing his four years in high school and their coming to an end, and how things would never be the same. He talked about the separate but equally strong feelings of truiumph and loss that were overwhelming him as he neared graduation. I, of course, was just getting into the groove of my high school adolescence, so in truth, I really had no idea what he was trying to explain, but I listened, caught up in the sweet melancholy of his voice, and his maleness and mystery.

He gave me his senior picture that night and he wrote on the back:
"Though nothing can bring back the hour
Of splendor in the grass, of glory in the flower
We will grieve not, but rather find
Strength in what remains behind."
Gary B. Ashe
Senior 1960-61

Forty-five years later I think about how genuinely serious we were, talking quietly, trying to grasp the meaning of our lives. What remains is the incredible strength of a shared youth and lifelong friendship.

Writing prompt: Think about your youth and write about the strength you found that brought you through adolescence.

Technology

2006-05-07T10:46:00.000-07:00

Oh how technology is changing the face of America.

Being young and dexterous, students are text-messaging faster than a 1950’s secretary on a Royal typewriter. Public and private schools, which reluctantly allowed cell phones inside the classroom post-911, are hustling to keep up with the inventiveness of youngsters. Teachers have to make out different tests for each class because students take photos of the test and send it to students who have the class later in the day. Teachers aalso have to stay in the classroom and actually circulate among the students, like a hawk watching for the least little movement, rather than sitting at the front of the classroom reading a favorite author, for fear that nimble fingers will text-message which circle to bubble on the Scantron for numbers 4, 12, 13, 19, 26… et al., and every wireless kid in class will make the same grade.

But whose fault is that? The role models are in coffee shops and restaurants right now: two adults sitting across from one another and talking. Except they are not talking to each other; they are talking on their cell phones, thanks to the latest unisex accessory: Bluetooths hanging from earlobes.

The dating game has been powerfully influenced by technology as well. Now that the Baptists and recovered alcoholics have banded together in an unlikely alliance to defame drinking establishments as a place for meeting the opposite sex, adults and youngsters are turning to the Internet for matchmaking and hooking up, respective to the generation. eHarmony and Match are the more popular adults sites while MySpace is the established turf, or “Main Street drag,” for tweens and teens.

Is all this bad?

No, just different. And worth noting and reflecting upon.

Writing prompt: Compare student cheating in the 1980s (or earlier) to cheating nowadays. Or, compare dating practices “back in the day” to those of today.

A Season to be Me!

2006-04-06T17:34:00.000-07:00

Gail Sheehy is such a trip! She wrote the definitive book for the masses (that's us) who wondered where we were in our lives. The book, PASSAGES, is still on my bookshelf, but I understand that since Gail has actually entered some the later passages she wrote about that she has discovered "later life" is much different in the actual living than in the intellectual musing.

Yep, as an aging boomer herself, Gail has decided we boomers are carving out new passages as we outlive the actuary chart, and according to her, since we are living longer, we are taking longer to grow up. Hey, makes sense to me. Why grow up sooner than necessary?

Sheehy opines that we are knocking off 10 years, which makes 30 the new 20; 40 the new 30; 50 the new 40; and 60 the new 50. Not only that, but us older gals and guys now have our own cute label: seasoned women and marinated men. I can't tell you much more because I haven't gotten the new book (well, of course there's a book!) but I understand that the longer life-line has given us a second chance at being adults. That's right, people between 50 and 70 are entering their second adulthood. (There's more: The third adulthood, which I guess is parallel to the 3rd and final act on this play called Life, is up there ahead in time for when we are embracing our 80s and 90s and yes, our 100s, starring on the back of our own Smuckers jars for the Today show.)

I took one of those online quizzes to estimate my chances of living to 100, and I only got to 86. I know I can get a higher score, but I've got to lose some weight and start exercising before I re-test because that's where I lost points. My friend Maya scored 99, but she is slim and plays tennis, so I know I gotta do my homework. After all, I don't want to end up being bland--I wanna keep the spice in my life. Yeeee-haw.

Where went Time?

2006-03-14T11:48:00.000-08:00

Someone told me the other day that our lives are sighs from God. That sounds so precious... unless you analyze everything like I do. Am I a sigh of relief? A sigh of exhaustion? A sigh of exhiliration? A sigh of disgust, or a sigh of delight? How I imagine God seeing me is a direct reflection of how I feel about myself. I can take a spritiual inventory by asking and answering this question on a daily basis. I tell you this, it gives me time to pause.

I went to the doctor's office last week for my annual check-up. I'm in fine shape, except when I was leaving, I looked at my lab reports and noticed that my name and my mother's age had been switched. I've not worried about age in a long while, but when I saw 60 in print on a piece of paper that I had not generated, I felt oddly out of sorts.

Who is this 60 for? Sixty is so old. My mother is 60. (Only she isn't--she's 84, still living independently in her own 2-story home, and she just got a clean bill of health from her doctor last week as well.)

AARP has an article this week about keeping an optimistic view of life. The best advice: 3 blessings.

What are three blessings I can claim today? I received a nice refund from the IRS in the mail today. My little Harley sportser is gassed up and the sun is out. Today is the first day of a week's vacation. Mmmmm life is good at sixty. Think I'll race the wind this afternoon. (Not to worry--it's a breeze more than a wind, but it sure will feel nice.)

Soul Journey: Stories of Faith

2006-01-06T21:23:00.000-08:00

I read somehwere recently that spiritual is derived from the Latin word spiritus, meaning breath; hence, spiritual memoirs are about those experiences that cause us to breathe quicker or slower or deeper, or to catch or to hold our breath—we inhale and recount our soul journey in acts of self-discovery.

Exploring our faith means recollecting and reflecting about our spiritual growth from our battles of faith and the lessons we learned—about our victories, our convictions, and God’s grace.

Writing the stories of our faith is a powerful experience in introspection, an adventure in self-discovery. Writing our soul journey reveals our lifelong inner yearning for God and sharing our trials and tribulations is an important part of our testimony. Writing our spiritual story documents how our faith has transformed us. By writing our soul journey, we create our own personal parables, story by story.

I invite you to embark on your own personal soul journey. Here is a month’s supply of prompts to help get you started:

Week 1: Count your blessings. Write about one.

Week 2: Describe your relationship with God and how you have changed, or not.

Week 3: Write about something you and God co-created: a child, a home, a work of art, an attitude of gratitude…

Week 4: Write about a time you thought God had abandoned you. How did you feel? What did you learn?

Patchwork

2005-12-04T13:42:00.000-08:00

In order to give shapes to the tapestry of our lives, we piece together our memories. Here is a fun exercise to create a patchwork of yourself. The exercise is adapted from Julia Cameron's The Artist's Way. Allow yourself to free-associate for a sentence or so with each phrase, and pick up little bits of yourself, retrieving memories and misplaced fragments strewn over your lifetime...

When you were a child, what was your favorite game?
When you were a child, what was your favorite book?
When you were a child, what was your favorite movie?
When you were a child, what was your favorite place?
Finish this sentence: I don't do it much, but I enjoy....
Finish this sentence: Five things I used to enjoy are....
Five things I would like to learn (or skills I would like to have) are....
Three silly things I'd like to do are....
I secretly thought I was pretty good at....
If I would lighten up a little, I'd let myself....
If it weren't too late, I'd be....
My favorite music is....
I secretly enjoy....
My favorite "guilty pleasure" is....
If I'd had a perfect childhood, I'd have grown up to be....
If it didin't sound so crazy, I'd ....
Taking time out for myself is....
When (and how) do I relax?
My favorite way to dress is....
When I'm down, I cheer myself up by....

I've used this exercise in my classes, and women, without any conscious effort, create wonderful patchworks. I feel like I'm in the midst of an old fashioned quilting bee!

Story Circle

2005-11-22T14:03:00.000-08:00

Eight of us met Saturday afternoon at Borders Books and had our first Story Circle meeting in Houston. We are re-reading Tender Mercies by Anne Lamott, chapter by chapter, and then writing and sharing.

As facilitator, I am bringing a writing prompt that I concoct after reading Lamott, which we use as a thought-starter and write for 15 minutes, then share. For the chapter "Overview: Lily Pads" (may not be the exact title... I'm writing from memory), I devised the prompt: Write about an important leap you've made in your life that led you in a different direction. The responses were touching, funny, insightful.

Interestingly, the Borders Books folks set up a place for us in the Business section, and so executive types would mosey through now and again, looking over the latest management books. Several of the women in the group took note of a man who stood transfixed, with his nose in a book while certainly eavesdropping, as we read quietly aloud about turning points in our lives. No doubt, he got an earful.

Goals and Aspirations

2005-11-06T14:58:00.000-08:00

I like to think about myself as a goal-oriented person. To emphasize the importance of having a clear goal in life, I tell my students--as, no doubt, someone once told me--"If you don't know where you're going, any road will get you there."

And yet, now that I have my own little piece of American-made nirvana (a 2004 Harley-Davidson Sportster), I have come to see the wisdom in taking "any road" as it strikes my fancy. What a delight to get off the beaten track in life, which brings me to the idea of exploring the hidden recesses of memory for golden memories with no real intention other than to go where the mind takes me.

Try this: Let your mind wander and see where it takes you. One of the wonderful things about not having a goal or destination is that you can change your mind and your direction and start again at any time, so do that if you find yourself somewhere you'd rather not be. Keep wandering until you get where you want to go.

What did you discover... about yourself?

Using memoir to generate memoir

2005-10-22T19:23:00.000-07:00

Here is an idea that I received from poet and workshop facilitator Sandi Stromberg, who teaches wonderful classes at the Jung Center in Houston. She selects a memoir book to read and then writes prompts that come to her after reading the book, which she then shares with the women in the class. In the class I took, we read Writing a Woman's Life by Carolyn Heilbrun (Ballantine, 1988), and it was an extraordinary writing experience. Sandi would quote a passage or summarize the one of the points Heilbrun makes in her book, and then she would give us a prompt to get us writing. What a phenomenal journey.

I am reading Traveling Mercies by Anne Lamott, and I plan to write prompts inspired by Lamott's words. Stay turned...

It's all about you

2005-10-10T18:36:00.000-07:00

I got an e-mail from my cousin today. I usually delete those daisy-chain type e-mails that are sent to all one's friends and relatives, but this one was really cool. It had a list of questions and all of her answers on it, and then directed me to delete her answers and add my own (see below) and send to my e-list. Well, what can I say? I thought I knew my cuz, but she surprised me with some of her answers.

If you like the idea, copy and paste this little survey to your blog or an e-mail and send it to those people you think you know and to those you'd like to know better. Fun and harmless. Here is the copy of the e-mail with my answers:

Welcome to the 2005 edition of getting to know your friends. What you aresupposed to do is copy (not forward) this entire e-mail and paste it onto anew e-mail that you'll send. Change all the answers so they apply to you, and then send this to a whole bunch of people including the person who sentit to you. Put your name in the subject line. The theory is that you will learn a lot of little things about your friends, if you did not know them already.

1. What time did you get up this morning? 9:30 a.m.
2. Diamonds or Pearls? Diamonds
3. What was the last film you saw at the cinema? Flight Plan
4. What is your favorite TV show? CSI Miami
5. What did you have for breakfast? oatmeal with blueberries
6. What is your middle name? Elaine
7. What is your favorite cuisine? TexMex, espeicially cheese enchilladas (it's a Texas thing)
8. What foods do you dislike? cooked cauliflower
9. What is your favorite CD? Willie Nelson's Greatest Hits
10. Who is your favoirte author? Karleen Koen (her new book Dark Angels will be out in Fall '06--buy it!)
11. What kind of car do you drive? turbo-charged Beetle
12. Favorite sandwich? chicken salad from Whole Foods Market
13. What characteristics do you despise? Cruelty
14. What are your favorite clothes? jeans
15. If you could go anywhere in the world on vacation, where would you go? Italy
6. What color is your bathroom? marshmellow white
17. Favorite brand of clothing? Chico's
18. Where would you want to retire? Texas hill country
19. Favorite time of day? Dusk
20. Where were you born? Rome, NY
21. Favorite sport to watch? Basketball
22. Coke or Pepsi? diet Coke
23. Are you a morning person or night owl? Neither, but I'd rather stay up a little later than get up a little earlier
24. Any new and exciting news you'd like to share with everyone? I just published my first book on memoir writing!
25. What did you want to be when you were little? Writer, teacher and movie star... 2 out of 3 ain't bad.
26. What is your best childhood memory? going on family car trips and staying up as my dad drove through the night and asking my mom and dad to tell me stories about their childhoods
27. What are the different jobs you have had in your life? Popcorn popper in a dime story, babysitter, newspaper proofreader for small town weekly, ticket sales associate for the Ringling Bros. circus, receptionist for offshore culinary company, high school teacher, freelance writer, college professor, marketing and public relations director, columnist, lifestyle editor for monthly urban magazine, author
28. Nicknames: Jerse, Dr. B, JoyceAnn
29. Piercings? Ears, a single in each
30. Eye Color? Hazel
31. Ever been to Africa? Not yet
32. Ever been toilet papering? Yes, several times in high school
33. Been in a car accident? Yes
34. Favorite day of the week? Sunday
35. Favorite restaurant? Vietopia
36. Favorite flower? Gerber daisy
37. Favorite ice cream? Blue Bell's Great Divide
38. Favorite fast food restaurant? Pronto's Italian
39. How many times did you fail your driver's test? Zero for auto; once for motorcycle
40.Which store would you choose to max out your credit card? None
41. Bedtime? 10:30'sih p.m.
42. What are you listening to right now? rain
43. What is your favorite color? red
44. How many tattoos do you have? None, but I would like one on m y ankle if it wouldn't last the rest of my life
45. What counts most in a partner, good looks or good sense of humor? Humor--he wouldn't even be in the running for partnership w/o a good sense of humor!

Rita rips through

2005-09-26T10:54:00.000-07:00

What would you do if you saw computer models of your coastline--a mere 55 miles away--totally submerged? I hate to admit it, but I just stayed glued to my television in some kind of "Twilight Zone" state of mindlessness. I guess I would still be there if the weatherman hadn't said, "If you can get out, whether or you are in one of the mandatory evacuation zones, you probably should do it now." So I started unplugging everything electrical and packed a bag for me and my dog, grabbed several water bottles and headed out of town about 11:30 on Wednesday night, which was 2 whole days before Rita was scheduled to hit. It took eight hours to get to the edge of Houston (about 20 miles).

By then I decided to hit the back roads and head north on any farm-to-market road. I finally got far enough north that I could head west and then get into San Antonio by coming down instead of across Texas. It wasn't until I was safe at my son's house that I allowed myself to feel my feelings. I am amazed how well-honed my denial system is! And then I discovered that I had left my suitcase... argh! (Thank commerce and the great economy for WalMart.)

After the hurricane turned to Beaumont (a mere 90 miles east of Houston), I sighed relief for me and a prayer for those in Rita's path. Since Houston was on the "clean" side of the hurricane, even though we were on the fringe, we only had $31 million damage for the entire city instead of billions!

I came home last night--got home around 2 a.m. this morning, again by taking the backroads because on I-10 cars were packed like sardines in a can. One of my neighbors was already back and sweeping off the debris from the sidewalks, street gutters, etc. My other neighbor is not back yet and she has a tree that has split apart and is leaning on my roof. There is no great damage though, so I think we have been greatly graced. The college will be closed until Wednesday so I have two days to put things back and reflect upon what has happened.

The good news is that we weathered the storm.

I left all my "things" here because in the Great Design, I let go of things rather easily (it's people I hang on to, even after they have moved out of my life), but I have to tell you, it's nice to be home and among my own books and art and furniture... especially my king-size bed with the pillowtop mattress!

Prompt for today: Write about something you feared would happen and did not.

Food for Thought

2005-09-14T19:59:00.000-07:00

Better Homes and Garden is having a Recipe "Makeover" Contest. Turn your favorite family recipe into a more healthy one and you might win Schwinn bicycles for your entire family. I remember the last Schwinn bike I owned. I got it for my twelfth Christmas... blue and white with big tires that logged many, many miles up and down the hills of Huntsville, Texas.

While you're looking through your recipe files, you might also think seriously about creating a family cookbook. Gather together those old family photos of everyone sitting around the table at Thanksgiving, or celebrating the Fourth of July in the backyard, or clam digging on the beach... you get the idea.

Telling the stories behind the recipes makes them all the more treasured. Are there stories that have been handed down with the recipes? How about a story about the cook? For example, my Aunt Jean had five hardy kids and a hard-working husband to cook for, back in the late '50s. She learned to make all kinds of delicious casseroles--the smart way to stretch a dollar in those days. We nicknamed her "Aunt Casserole" because we never had to second guess what was on the menu when we visited her kitchen. A photo of her as a young housewife in the kitchen is a natural illustration of the Casseroles section in our family's cookbook.

If you're interested in creating a custom calendar, visit http://www.bhg.com/foodandfamily. The site has an interactive 15-month calendar that features a healthy recipe each month. You can personalize the pages with your own family pictures and then e-mail the calendar to friends and family.

In the meanwhile, I'm going to log on to the site as well, but I'm going to enter the recipe contest and makeover one of Aunt Jean's casseroles into a more healthy one. The contest ends November 15, so I guess I have some time to de-calorize and increase the nutritional value by substituting fresh veggies for any high-sodium canned one. The grand prize is 5 Schwinn bikes, which I'm sure her five kids will thumb wrestle me for... assuming I win, that is.

Luck of the Draw

2005-09-05T19:27:00.000-07:00

I have been invited to conduct a session for the annual conference of the Story Circle Network (slated for February 2006 in Austin, TX). I have named the session "The Luck of the Draw," and I am going to share with participants a creative exercise to warm up mentally and physically for the task of writing.

First, you have to create a card deck. I've created a 52-card deck for memoir writing; you can create your own. Get blank cards (index cards will do)--as many cards as you want to have in your deck--and write a prompt on each one. The prompt can be a topic, a slogan, a situation, a fad... anything to awaken the muse and tickle your memory.

Here are several that a student came up with:

Write about ambition.
Write about a trip.
Write about a favorite car.
Write about kisses.
Write about a sport.

Okay, you get the idea.

Here are the rules of play:
Shuffle the deck and deal yourself a card, or spread the deck face down and choose a card.

You MUST write for at least 20 minutes on whatever topic you got. Be inventive. You can write about the topic itself or just mention it in passing. For example, if you drew the topic sports, you could write about your memories of playing a sport in your youth, or you could write about an athlete you admire, or you could write about someone you know being a bad sport about trying new things. The writing assignment should go wherever your mind takes you.

Next time you feel like you can't think of anything to write about, pull out your deck and try you luck.

No pressure. Just draw a card, and then write quickly and steadily for 20 minutes about whatever comes to mind.

Work history

2005-08-29T21:03:00.000-07:00

Here is an interesting list to create:

Make a list of all the jobs you have ever had, the age you were when you had them and what you learned from each job. Start with your very first job and move forward to your current job. Now write about the lessons/values/truths you have learned about work.

Here's a partial list of mine:

Five & Dime store, age 14--worked the popcorn machine during the Christmas holdiays. Learned to be very, very careful around hot oil and to fight the urge to lick salty, greasy fingers between filling bags of freshly popped corn.

Babysitting, age 15-16--The dean of the music department and his wife often went to Houston for late night partying, and I babysat their four children. The oldest kid, Will Lee, is the bass player for the David Letterman Late Night Show. Yes, I feel old.

Reporter & Proofreader for weekly small town paper, age 20--the editor was a character, just like the Editor-in-Chief Perry White in the Superman black & white television series--steely, professional, hard-nosed and demanding. I learned never to miss a deadline.

High school journalism teacher, age 21-23--taught sophomores, juniors and seniors how to produce an award-winning newspaper. I learned that high school principals in Texas schools are usually former football coaches and have no tolerance for journalism teachers. I was fired at the end of my second year, despite statewide recognition for the newspaper and many individual student awards for reporting excellence.

Community college instructor, age 23-29--hired to develop journalism program for small community college in a "company town" (the company being EXXON). I loved this job, and I was really proud of the work I did. Students won lots of awards and many transferred to universities with great portfolios.

etc.

Death and aging

2005-08-22T18:21:00.000-07:00

My friend Lee died last week. He was recovering from a heart attack, and he just slipped away in his sleep. He was 57 years old. I will miss him every day for the rest of my life.

I met Lee in 1976. He was so handsome and so bright. (Weren't we all--we were in our late 20s and early 30s and full of life's possibilities.)

He and my ex-husband became like brothers, and Lee was best man in our wedding in 1981; then, he stood by both of us when we divorced in 1991--something only an authentic friend with great integrity could have done.

Lee walked me down the aisle when my son married in 2002.

Three years ago my best girlfriend died suddenly from a complication in what was supposed to be routine surgery. She was 55. Lee stood by my side and helped me survive the loss of my childhood friend. (Charlotte and I had been friends since we were in the third grade. She was my matron of honor in my wedding.)

At every life changing event in my adult life, these two friends were present, supporting me, advising me, joking with me, prodding me, hugging me, loving me.

What the hell is going on? We are the Boomer generation--we're supposed to live into our 80s.

The hollowness in my life--the large spaces these two great friends occupied--is immense. I cannot count the times this week that I've reached for the phone to call Lee and say, "You won't believe what just happened!" And I still miss Charlotte so much, too. She was so smart and had such great advice. They both did. Now they are gone, and I am left here to be an adult all by myself.

I do not fear death. I believe in an afterlife, and I know that my friends are at peace. I am the one suffering, because I miss them. And I've been thinking about that.

People who are in their 70s and 80s are often the ones who have outlived their family and friends. They become invisible in our culture. Or, they are treated like children instead of revered for being the sages they are.

My mother is 84. She believes she has lived a grand life and that she's made a contribution to humanity, which she has! While she doesn't have a death wish, she tells me that she feels at peace and she is ready anytime God is ready for her to take her final breath. I understand that feeling. When your contemporaries die and the younger generation is busy with making its own mark, you feel lonelier on this side and going to the other side--while not wishing for it--is not unseemly.

No, it's not a death wish, but it is a new perspective.

What is Truth?

2005-08-20T13:52:00.000-07:00

The first time I wrote a family memoir, my older brother argued with me about the way things happened. He remembered things just a little differently and of course, he thought his memory was/is superior to mine. (Never mind that he is in his sixties and constantly confuses me with his daughter, so much so that my name has become "Tracie-I, uh, mean-Joyce.")

Anyway, his argument brings up a question that many people struggle with as they write their life stories. Author/memoirist Maureen Murdock even wrote a book about it (Unreliable Truth: On Memoir and Memory, 2003). She makes the point that when we write from memory, we may not remember the exact words that people said, or the specific colors splaying across the sky at dusk, or the if the food was Korean or Vietnamese. But so what? The truth that is important in memoir is not so much factual truth as it is emotional truth. How did we feel when we were experiencing an event (e.g., earning our first merit badge in Scouts, picking out our first car, getting our first traffic ticket, failing a test, winning an award) and how did the event change us (e.g., gave us confidence, taught us responsibility, helped us understand the concept of consequences).

Emotional truth is very individualist, so in writing our life stories, the question becomes Whose truth is it? And the answer to that question is simple: It is the writer's truth.

So when my brother questions the truth of one of my stories, I just pat him on the shoulder and say, "You tell your story your way, and I'll tell my story mine."

Memoirist Mary Jane Moffat (City of Roses: Stories from Girlhood, 1986) makes the distinction between factual history and artistic truth. Author Toni Morrison has been quoted saying that making things up and sticking to facts are two different things, but that you need both to get to the truth. Tristin Rainer (Your Life as Story, 1997) reminds us that the ultimate meaning of life stories is not hidden in the literal facts, but rather in the emotional truth.

In writing life stories, then, it is important to be authentic and real about the emotional truth--something that many celebrities tend to gloss over in their tell-all books. However, I believe the reason that memoirs by everyday folks like you and me are so popular in our culture and in literature today is because of the emotional truth we reveal in our stories. Readers may not have the exact experience as the author of a memoir, but they sure identify with the feelings.

Bottom line: Write from the heart and keep it real.

Where do I Begin?

2005-08-16T20:38:00.000-07:00

"I have so much to say; I just don't know where to start!"

(If I lost an ounce for every time I've heard someone say this, I'd be one skinny woman.)

One of the distinguishing characteristics of memoir writing is that one's memoirs are cut into slices so that each slice makes a good story. And that may be one of the reasons it is hard to know where to start. Autobiographies begin in the beginning, but memoirs may--and do!--start anywhere.

Here's a couple of ideas:

Begin right before a turning point in your life. What did you want right before the turning point? Begin with your desire. A soldier might desire to be courageous in a firefight. A young woman who is up for a promotion might want to be the most sophisticated and intelligent candidate. A man who is proposing to his beloved might want to quell the acid burning a hole in his gut while, at the same time, winning his darling's heart. A younger brother might desire to be accepted by his older brothers as they go out on the town.

Begin in the middle of a crisis. For example, in telling the story of sneaking out with buddies/girlfriends, begin with your mother's fury when she meets you at the door the next morning: "Where were you last night?"

Begin with the inner conflict. Often what we wanted growing up and what our parents wanted for us were in opposition. This is a story of struggle for sure, and, perhaps compromise, perhaps regret, perhaps triumph, perhaps courage, perhaps "mom/dad knew best" or perhaps not.

Memoir Writing

2005-08-06T11:01:00.000-07:00

I am a writer, editor, author and college professor (earned my doctorate from Texas A&M University and completed post-doctoral work in creative writing under the tutelage of Southern writer Paul Ruffin at Sam Houston State), and I have started this blog to examine the fourth genre of literature that has come of age: creative nonfiction, especially memoir writing.

The initial desire to tell your story often comes from the desire to make sense of your life. One of the reasons blog journals haved become so popular, in my opinion, is seeded by this desire. But a major difference between many blogs and memoir writing is that blog journals are more of a stream of consciousness writing--this is what I am thinking, unedited--while retorying your life, writing your memoirs, includes the added necessary ingrediate of reflection.

Interested in this topic? Then, by all means, blog in and contribute, and tell your friends to visit as well.