Winter, Walking Casts, Writing Books. Going on...

At the nearby track where I walk when the roads are icy or I’m recovering from yet another injury, or have time only for a quick two miles, on many mornings on the inside field, a freelance soccer coach takes groups of youngsters through what to me seem like advanced skill drills. A blur of motion, legs, soccer balls. I have almost no interest in the game, but what I love is that no matter where on the track I am, or even how windy it may be, I hear the lilt of the coach’s rich voice, his island accent, urging his players on.

When he first appeared, I noticed that no matter what mistake a player may make, no matter how much one of the kids may be struggling, what comes out of this man’s mouth is: “And, we go on.”

 At first, I couldn’t decipher it, thinking I’d heard: “andweeego own…” But then I got it, and realized he was encouraging his charges, constantly—and more, suggesting that errors, small or large missteps, don’t matter as much as going on, without pausing to worry or feel sorry.

I learned to love hearing him, and some days when I was driving to the track, hoped fervently the coach would be there, boosting those hopeful, keep-on-trying kids. When I hear him encouraging them, especially on days when I’m considering cutting my walk short, that small push is enough.

 And, we go on.

 And so, I do.

Like now. 

Middle of winter in New Jersey. And though I’ve lived here all but a half-dozen years of my life, I’m always and inexplicably a bit surprised at what happens (snow, ice, bone rattling cold), and also a little dismayed (Seasonal Affective Disorder, otherwise known as the daily gray day doldrums). Toss in two new broken bones in my foot, and here we are indeed: February, slightly depressed, too much forced sedentary-ness, staying home far too much.

 And, we go on.

Keeping me going just now, as I clump around in an awkward walking boot: teaching (this semester, an MFA course, “Reading as a Writer,” which I developed several years ago); writing (barely trudging around the track, but showing up); editing and coaching (absolutely nothing better than helping writers polish their drafts, manuscripts, and skills).

Yet, some days, when it all gets to me—like the gray and icy 13-degree day last week when my foot ached and I ran out of British crime dramas to watch—it’s my non-writer, feeling crummy but determined to do something activities that keep me going on. That is, I organize. Cull closets and shelves, then toss, sell, or find ways to give away. I’ve culled my office, notably my bulging bookshelves, three times recently. A neighborhood social media page ensures the novels and memoirs and biographies I part with find new readers nearby.

Most recently, I’ve been thinning my writing craft bookshevles. This group (pictured) is ready to go. (I've either got a duplicate copy, or read it and got what I needed from it, or for some reason it didn't speak to me but may be just what another writer needs.) And I’d love to give them to you, my blog readers and writing and reading friends. Want one? Email me with your U.S. postal address and I’ll send it via media mail at my cost. (If you can make good use of several, and are willing to share mailing expenses, we can do that too.) That’s it. Books to a new home where they can maybe inspire another writer.

Here’s hoping your winter/pandemic/getting-back-to-normal/whatever projects and activities are feeding you.

 And, we go on together.

 P.S. I have two open editing slots for winter and three for spring, to take on full manuscripts, and room for a few new coaching clients. And of course, editing/feedback for shorter works is available almost anytime. Get started here or email me.  

Writer Gatherings: Planning Way Ahead and Afar, and also Right Here in Good Ole New Jersey

This week, I'm spending time wrestling a few proposal/ applications to events I hope to participate in next spring, summer, and fall. Typing "2018" so many times has me thinking about how quickly time moves, and sending these missives off (to conferences, book festivals, and the like) to far-flung locations also reminds me that much sooner, and much closer, I've got a few things percolating right here in my home state.

So, this one's for my New Jersey (and nearby) writing friends, a quick note about two upcoming events that might be of interest: staying still...and getting things in motion.

When it comes to getting things in motion, I'm talking about moving your work out into the world. Summoning up the courage and pressing SEND, to take all that fine writing and yank it out from your computer and on its way. To see what happens when you submit your writing. When you venture closer toward the great big world of getting published, whether for you that means an essay or short story in a journal or on a website you like, an article in the local paper, or your book manuscript on a shelf. Some days, it's all about faking confidence and saying what the hell. But first, you need tools, resources, tips, and tricks.

This weekend, I'll be presenting a two-hour program, "Ready, Set, Submit" with The Writers Circle in their Summit location. It's part lesson, part practice, and all brass tacks. If you're here at the blog often, you already know that I'm a no-B.S. person: I'll give it to you straight--and equip you with what you need to build and maintain a submission strategy.

This one's coming up quickly, but we still have a few slots left. Join me Sunday afternoon, October 8. Get all the details here.

Next up for Jersey writers: staying still on the page...well at least long enough to bring to your creative nonfiction work a strong sense of place, of where your story takes place, of setting and context surrounding where it all happens. 

Along with the new Cedar Ridge Writers Series, I'll be working with about 12 writers at -- where else? -- a stunning location for this event: Cedar Ridge Farms in gorgeous Somerset County. There, our senses will be stimulated as we work inside a spacious renovated farmhouse, outside among glorious fields and gardens, all the while thinking about and writing the physical world into memoir, essay, and other forms of CNF.

It's a full day to explore an aspect of craft and story that goes way beyond description, in the company of a small group of like-minded writers.

The one-day intensive/workshop takes place on November 4. Get all the details here.

Questions? Email me!

Hope to see you at one of these...or something else in the future. I love meeting my blog readers in person!

Guest Blogger Judy Mollen Walters on Creating Fictional Worlds From What We Know

I shared a meal at the AWP conference last month with four other writers. We're all part of the same Facebook group of women writers, and when discussing where we each live, they assumed I already knew their mutual friend Judy Mollen Walters, who lives less than an hour from me in New Jersey. Well, I didn't then, but I do now. Judy is a novelist and also writes occasional essays, with work in The Washington Post, The Huffington Post, SheKnows, Spring St. Scary Mommy, Kveller, and other places. Looks like I met Judy just in time to learn about her fifth novel, A Million Ordinary Days, published this month—and invite her to write this guest post.

Please welcome Judy Mollen Walters.

You know what writers I admire the most? Historical fiction writers, who are able to catapult themselves—and their readers—into a completely different time, whether it be back to the ancient days of the Romans, the time of twentieth century World War I or WWII heroes and survivors, or when the Declaration of Independence was signed. Even those who write about the 1960s and 70s, when flower power and bell bottom jeans were in full fashion, impress me.

Historical novelists can go back and visit a completely different space and time, and literally plunk their readers right there beside them. They need to conduct hours and hours, and days and days, and months and months of research—online and in person research, talking to historians, librarians, and experts, taking countless notes, and reading countless books about their subjects. And that’s all before they start writing. And, as they go along, drafting, revising, rewriting.

I hate research. I always have. I can remember when I was in middle school, trying to learn the techniques of research, annoyed and bored out of my mind. As soon as I got to the library, I didn’t scurry to the encyclopedias to look up my topic. I went to the fiction section to find a new novel to read. Research was painstakingly agonizing for me, looking up articles, trying to find good, interesting information, and then just as painful to try to flesh it all out into a solid paper. I just didn’t care. I only wanted to go back into worlds I knew along with authors like Judy Blume, worlds I was familiar with. I loved realistic fiction about girls my own age, then.

Now as a writer, I have the same tastes. I am the opposite of the go-into-other-worlds, spend-a-lot-of-time-researching historical fiction writer. I’m in the solid write-what-you-know camp. For me, that’s contemporary women’s fiction. I write about families and mothers and wives. Many of my characters have some sort of affliction or illness or struggle that I’ve either gone through personally or can identify with because I know someone who has experienced it. 

Subjects I’ve explored in my novels include a Jewish family struggling with adoption (I am Jewish and know many adopted people); autism (My best friend’s son is an adult autistic man.); infertility (I went through it myself twice!); a best friendship that ends with a shock and a secret (With one of the women discovering a shocking truth about her ex-best friend, which happened to me, too.)

Yet the characters in my novels are not me, nor are they my children, husband, or family. (My sister kept trying to find herself in my books, so finally I created a character who was a middle school math teacher, like she is, so she would stop bugging me about it.)

My latest novel, A Million Ordinary Days, is about a mother like me, at the prime of her life with two daughters, battling a chronic illness. While I have Crohn’s Disease, my character has multiple sclerosis (MS). I have several friends with MS, and I reached out to them in order to make sure I was telling an accurate story. Okay, so maybe I do some casual research after all!

These friends were so supportive—and excited about—a novel about MS. They wanted a character like them to rule a novel. So they were happy to read my drafts, offering suggestions to make my character more “real.”  They also suggested blogs by writers living with MS that helped me get an accurate picture of living with the disease.

But to create my protagonists, I do not have to pursue pure research. I simply watch the lives of those around me, listen, and am able to reproduce what I observe well enough to, I think, build a credible story. My fictional worlds have everything in common with the current-day world my readers and I all live in.

If I was trying to replicate historical times, I would be miserable. There’s so much to get right: language and dress, food and lifestyle, politics and environmental conditions.  Even if I wanted to write a coming of age novel set in the 1970s and 80s when I was growing up myself, I still think I would have a hard time. I don’t remember all the fads, music, movies and TV from then!

Of course, with the Internet, research isn’t nearly as difficult now as it was back when I was in school. But that doesn’t make it any more appealing to me. I still love to write about the lives I see unfolding around me now. Mothers. Wives. Friendships. An illness or condition that's familiar. That’s how I’m most successful.

My hat's off to all the historical fiction writers out there. And the science fiction writers. And the biographers. Writers who really dare to take us into worlds so different than we could ever imagine. I admire them. But for me, I’m still sticking to the old adage: write what you know.

                                                                                                                

Note from Lisa: You can connect with Judy at her website,  Facebook, or Twitter. Find a review of her newest novel at Books is Wonderful, and order the book here.

A Day at the Museum: Matisse Nearby, and Letting Inspiration Find Me

Henri Matisse "Yellow Odalisque"

I value inspiration, but I don't often go in search of it. Inspiration usually finds me via something else I’m doing—research for an already-begun writing project, a planned personal or business outing.

Like what happened during a trip to see the "Matisse and American Art" exhibit at the Montclair (NJ) Art Museum. Though this museum is a well-respected gem only a few miles from my house, I don't get there often enough. But my 2017 resolution is to support (not just talk about) organizations that matter—ranging from social justice to the arts. So I made a plan to attend the much-celebrated new exhibit, and pony up annual membership (so I'll be financially inspired to return). The timing meant my sister Cathy and I would have something to do together (other than haunt our favorite diners and bakeries) when she visited.

Cathy's the real art lover in the family; she knows the difference between Monet and Manet, and whether something is impressionist or impressive (or both). I enjoy looking at art, but for me it's always been an enjoyable sometime thing, not a passion.

Henri Matisse—and the American artists influenced by him—may have converted me. But the real bonus: new observations and thoughts about why I'm write  about some of the things I write about, my relationship to the prose, and even a few essay ideas. I'll keep the essay ideas to myself (half-baked as they are still), but as a writer, here's what I came away with:

+ Color! Rich, vivid, bold, drenched colors.(Yep, I used four adjectives in a row.) Colors saturated with ideas and emotion, suggestive and nuanced! Colors were speaking to me. Hard to believe some of Matisse's early critics called his use of color ugly and his first paintings something to laugh at. The world caught on, of course. A magazine feature on Matisse displayed notes, "All the colors sing together…like a musical chord." Like the words and sentences in a piece of writing.

Matisse, "Woman in Blue"

+ Matisse influenced so many artists. I was struck by John Baldessari's "Eight Soups" and Roy Lichtenstein's bronze "Goldfish Bowl II", which build on details in Matisse's works, combined with Warhol's soup cans. I'm reminded of how writers create new prose that couldn't exist if not for the foundations, references, styles of writers who came before. When writes quote Proust, build on a Shakespearian pun, obliquely reference Didion, they are both acknowledging those who paved new literary paths, and paying tribute, and if very lucky (and very good), perhaps making something that extends and expands instead of imitating.

+ Matisse believed in using "all the colors," and this spurs me to think more widely about all the literary tools at my disposal. It nudges me to remember about all the forms I don't regularly try, structures and organizational methods I want to experiment with but often pass over for the safer, more reliable methods.

+ Standing too close to visual art warps perspective. Stepping back brings the visuals into focus. Like creating distance from a manuscript draft is vital. Too close to the same material—page or canvas—and you no longer really see it.

Matisse, "Pianist and Checker Players"

+ My two favorite Matisse works were "Interior at Nice" and "Pianist and Checker Player"—the former because it brings me back to the feeling of being cosseted at a seaside inn (beautiful hotels being one of my favorite places), and the latter recalls my many childhood evenings when my sister was playing piano (beautifully), and I was playing checkers (poorly) with my mother. For writers, memory triggers—that can turn into stories and pages—are waiting everywhere!

+ Cathy and I were captivated by the bold, exquisite works of contemporary mixed media artist Janet Taylor Pickett and her "Matisse Series," which includes many pieces that play with the shape and colors of Matisse's "Woman in Blue" and his later-career cutout works, and the form and symbolism of women's dresses.

Janet Taylor Pickett, "Wrapped Up in Blue"

+ Like all great acts of inspiration, the visit tipped me into exploration—finding more Matisse works to look at online and reliving Pickett's exhibit via this compelling video, which she narrates and appears in, tracing her own inspirational journey to and from Matisse.

+ You can't visit the Montclair Art Museum without stopping at the George Inness permanent collection, and there on a placard was this, describing the 19th century American landscape artist:

"He refined an approach of conveying the greatest amount of information by means of the fewest marks of the brush."

A reminder about doing more with less, about, essentially, editing. How appropriate to end my excursion to the visual art world with this gentle reminder about the art of brevity in all art forms.

Images courtesy Montclair Art Museum

A Jersey Day in May: Announcing - The Art of Short Nonfiction Prose. Write with me!

I know it's just a trick of the senses, that the unseasonably warm weather in northern New Jersey the past few weeks is lulling me into the false idea that spring is already underway. Which leaves me eager to traverse the intervening weeks to arrive at May 6, when no matter what, spring will be firmly in bloom in the Garden State.

I'm very happy to announce that I'll be leading a full-day writing event in Bedminster, NJ, on Saturday, May 6 -- The Art of Short Nonfiction Prose. Everything about the day has been thoughtfully arranged for an intimate, challenging, supportive, and edifying experience. 

We'll be welcoming about 10 to 12 writers, who will come together to explore ideas, generate new work, share, learn, and in short (!), dive deeply into the craft of writing short nonfiction. Short, in this context, will include the newer forms of mini-, micro-, and flash essays (from 50 to 750 words), as well as more traditional "short" pieces that are more than flash but less than long-form.

The Art of Short Nonfiction Prose will take place in a lovely countryside setting, and it's sponsored by Tiferet Journal. Tiferet (tagline: Promoting tolerance through literature and art) was founded and is published by Donna Baier Stein, my teaching colleague in other endeavors, and a champion of literary work that has meaning.

I'll be assisted by Ryder Ziebarth, who is a former student/mentee of mine, a graduate of the Vermont Center for Fine Arts MFA program, and a Tiferet associate editor. In fact, Ryder is hosting the event at Cedar Ridge Farm, which goes back generations in her family and is listed with the Smithsonian Institute of American Gardens. In addition to her expertise at nonfiction, Ryder is a dedicated steward of the land, and an accomplished cook (who's planning to serve a healthy farm-to-table lunch!).

I've spent time at her farm, and I'm certain that the gracious farmhouse, welcoming guest cottage, and spacious grounds, along with the lush gardens, and rolling hay fields will be a perfect backdrop. It's a place for deep thought, quiet contemplation, relaxed conversation and also the kind of spirited camaraderie that so often springs up between writers brought together for common purpose.

If you're within driving distance, and you have a desire to dwell for a full day in the possibilities that short nonfiction allows, and do so alongside other like-minded writers, then I invite you to check out this unique event. (Enrollment is limited. I'd be happy to answer any questions, here or via email.)

As March approaches, and who knows what its winds may bring, I'll enjoy knowing that spring will arrive, and with it, this special day.

Images: courtesy Ryder Ziebarth

Friday Fridge Clean-Out: Links for Writers -- January 27, 2017 Edition

> At Women on Writing, Chelsey Clammer's series on submissions this time tackles formatting -- how and why writers are asked to submit their work differently for different venues. And more.

> Helpful interview/craft advice about writing backstory, from Lisa Cron, author of Story Genius, over at Writers in the Storm blog.

> At the Penguin/Random House site, a friend stumbled across this short round-up of (PRH-published) books by authors from, or about, New Jersey. Looks like it's part of their United States of Books series.

>AWP, the largest gathering of writers in North America, takes places in February in Washington, D.C. If you're going, and are interested in writing about any part of it, I'd love to talk about a guest post. Email me! (see side margin)

Have a great weekend!

Image: Flickr/CreativeCommons-1950sUnlimited

The Personal Essay it Took Me Two Hours – and Nearly Two Decades – To Write

Note:  Because the practice of personal essay writing, submission, acceptance, payment, and publication so rarely occurs in such a quick, smooth, seamless, and positive way; and because writers are more likely to sound off about agonizing rewrites, multiple submissions, stalled payments, and postponed publication, I offer this story. Now, let's hope that by telling it, I'm not tempting fate, inviting the future wrath of the fickle writing and freelancing gods. 

In February of this year, on a Tuesday morning following a two-week blitz of non-stop work, including weekends, I wanted nothing more than to crawl back into bed after my son left for school. I sat at the kitchen counter in my bathrobe, counting down the minutes; but then I learned that overnight a certain celebrity had died – and that was the end of my going back to bed. 

I knew, without question, I had to write an essay about that dead celebrity – and about my mother, who had loved that star. A couple of hours later, the essay was on its way to editors, a week later it sold, a month later I approved two minor edits and provided photos, two months later I had a check in hand, and two weeks ago, I opened the magazine to see a two-page spread, gloriously laid out with my photos.

Except for when I was working a couple days a week as a daily editor for a website, I've rarely conceived, written, revised, edited, proofread, and submitted anything so quickly. In fact, when I teach personal essay writing, I emphasize the good that usually comes from letting ideas percolate, allowing early drafts to marinate; from slowing down, thinking more, spending enough time researching media markets -- and then, budgeting time to reconsider, regroup – rewrite if necessary.

And I believe all of that, and I do all of that. But not all the time.

Once in a while, all that's needed is this: something happens, the brain perks up, memories ignite, and I write, seemingly without any choice in the matter. Sometimes, I realize I've been writing that essay for a long time already, storing it away, waiting until the time is right. Then, like a sculptor who intuitively understands that the statue is already within the marble and his only job is to chip away until it emerges, I sit and type and somehow I find that story, already lurking, fully formed, or nearly so.

 That essay I wrote on that February morning was there all along. And now it's in the world, in the June issue of Inside Jersey magazine (and also on the NJ.com website, here).  

 In a class the other day, someone asked me when I first got the idea, and I realized something else: on a long list of possible essay ideas I'd once created in a writing class in the mid-1990s, I'd scribbled, "Mom and her love of Shirley Temple." (Side note: never toss out lists of writing ideas!) The death of Shirley Temple, nearly two years after my mother's death, and only weeks after I'd unpacked some of her treasured movie memorabilia, unlocked that essay.

I suppose I could have written some version of it 18 years ago, or eight years, or five years ago. That would have been a very different essay of course, and perhaps my only regret is that then my mother would have read it, and probably framed it, and then, finally, I would have been part of her Shirley Temple Room.

Come to think of it, I still am.

Guest Blogger Jennifer Walkup on 11 Ways Publishing a Book is Like Having Kids

 I met Jennifer Walkup for the first time at a gathering at The Writers Circle in northern New Jersey, where we both teach, and was immediately drawn to her warm humor and generous spirit. She is the author of Second Verse, a young adult romantic thriller (Luminis Books 2013), winner of the Gold 2013 Moonbeam Children's Book Award for Teen Mystery. Jennifer's work has also appeared in Genre Wars Anthology, and Gloom Cupboard, and she serves as fiction editor for The Meadowland Review.  A fellow New Jersey resident, she lives with her husband and two sons, and is at work on her next book.

Please welcome Jennifer Walkup.

There are two things I blog about most – having babies and writing books, which happen to also be the two most wonderful and difficult things I’ve done in my life. Here are the top 11 ways I have discovered that having a baby and being a parent, and writing and publishing a book, are eerily similar.

1. You're never done. Almost as soon as you give birth, everyone asks when they can expect the next one. You’re barely home from the hospital and Dear Aunt Martha is peering over her glasses asking when the little bundle will have a sibling. Same for books and readers. At every book signing, at least one person asks about the next book. I do love that people are interested in my books and my babies, but can I breathe?  Anyway, it takes me a bit longer to write a book than have a baby – but I am most certainly always at work on my next (book that is)!

2. You think you're done for good.  Speaking of doing it again – there’s something curious about both books and babies. After delivering either one, it’s nearly impossible to imagine going through it all again. By the time I’m on my last draft of a book, I’m looking forward to a break, letting my mind rest. I’m also usually exhausted and swearing I can’t go through this process again. But then, soon enough, there I am, opening a blank document. Same goes for babies. I am a classic example of this. My older son wasn’t even two before I starting yearning for another. And as for writing, I can’t stop. At this moment, my latest draft of the Second Verse sequel is out with my trusted beta readers for one last critique before turning it over to my editor. This was going to be my take-a-break-from-writing time. But guess what I did this weekend? Yep, 5k words on a new novel. I can’t help it, it’s what I love!

3.  It hurts. Childbirth and parenting – both are painful. Writing can be too. Critique hurts, rejection hurts, reading through and revising each and every draft can be cumbersome and painful. BUT! There is good news indeed; the pain, in both cases, is always, always worth every second.

4.  Work, work, work.  The amount of work required to get books or children into presentable shape is intense. Whether you’re a two draft writer or a ten draft writer, it takes lots of practice, skill and incredibly hard work to make a book a book. Same goes for kids, they don’t come out knowing how to function and behave. And figuring both out is often trial by fire – flying without a net.

5. And more work. Books and babies = Sleepless night and lots of coffee.

6.  Everyone's a critic. Ah yes, book critics are a necessary part of the publishing process, and sometimes if the right critic likes a book enough, it can help launch or revive an author's career. As for parenting critics, there are plenty of those too, though not nearly as useful!

7.  But not everyone is an expert.  There are way too many writing and publishing experts out there telling you how to do it better or do it “right.” While there is often value in such advice, too much can easily be overwhelming and stifling (and a lot of it is sometimes downright wrong). With both writing and parenting, you sometimes need to just trust your intuition.

8. You will never be the same again. For better and for worse, birthing a baby or birthing a book will leave you a changed person. Both are incredible accomplishments that take a lot out of you, and give a lot back as well. Life changers, through and through.

9.  Comparing yours to theirs is futile.  Some other author, some other parent always seems to be doing it better or with more ease. Comparisons are lethal and dangerous. Don't do it. Seriously. This is some of the best advice I was ever given in life and I try and stick to it. Keep your nose to the ground and work hard, learn as much as you can, hone your craft, find your path and soak in all the knowledge. But don’t compare your book to someone else’s, or your parenting path to another's. Some people get huge advances, some people get an agent on the first try, and others write five or 10 books before they break out, or self publish, or land an offer from a small press. Some kids walk and talk early and some don’t. It’s okay, just live your life.

10.  The fruit of your labor: pretty fabulous!  While the work is hard and relentless, it is beyond rewarding. For me, writing books is very much like raising my kids—it's what fills me up and puts life in my days, what make me whole.

11. Do your job well and poof, you're invisible. Making it look easy is the goal. If you do a good job with either parenting or writing, you end up with a smooth and seamless finished product – one that seems to have sprung into perfect form with  hardly any work on your part at all. Right.

You can follow Jennifer on Twitter, connect on Facebook, or Goodreads.  

The Personal Essay and Me: The sudden path from zero to urgent

Had you asked me a year ago if I would ever be writing about the Jersey Shore, the answer would have been "probably not." Although I'm a native born, lifelong Jersey Girl -- I don't pump my own gas; I love Bruce Springsteen, like Bon Jovi, and eat in diners -- unlike almost every Jersey Girl I've ever known, I never developed an early childhood crush for the Jersey Shore. 

For me, The Shore is a place I learned to appreciate only long after I'd initially dismissed it -- something I thought little about until after Hurricane Sandy destroyed so much of the Shore last fall. Which is when I began writing about my complicated relationship with this iconic part of my home state.

For me, this is how it is with essays and personal nonfiction narratives: one day a topic is of no appeal, and the next, I have something to say, and urgently. This is how an essay begins for me -- a moment, an awakening, a realization, an urge; that itch that won't go away until I pay attention, on paper.

The eventual essay that I began in November 2012, titled "Not a Shore Thing," is now live -- just ahead of the one-year anniversary of the storm's destruction -- over at bioStories, a lovely online home for personal stories.

Here's an excerpt:

....When I was about eight, I sashayed about my living room, empty Coke bottle in hand, singing along to the Drifters' sixties classic Under the Boardwalk. I hoped and wondered if I'd be kissed on a warm blanket in the slatted shade, people walking above. Eventually, I was that girl, or at least a version of her, though the kissing all took place right on the Boardwalk: some stringy blond boy whose name I'd forget, a high school boyfriend, my fiancé.  
        But before any of that, and even during some of that, I was a shore snob.
        My parents were to blame -- if showing your child the world beyond one's home state has anything to do with blame. When my father, an early polyester manufacturer, wanted to get away, he meant an airplane ride and five-star resort, where the beach was just one of 18 amenities. Boardwalk games, un-air conditioned rentals, motel pools, and waffles and ice cream were something other kids told me about...

You can read the whole piece here.  And please do drop in at bioStories from time to time, where editor Mark Leichliter posts new essays every five weeks or so.

(Image: Flickr Creative Commons / b0janagles)

Care for a Critique? Place your bid. (Updated)

Some time ago, I was fortunate to receive a patient, thoughtful, and helpful critique on a very long essay, from a writer/editor I admired. I wasn't enrolled in a course and I hadn't hired her. Instead, I "won" a bid for her services in an auction set up to raise funds for a charity. 

At the time, I would not have been able to afford her services; in fact at the time, I wasn't even actively looking for help with that particular writing project.  But when I saw the listing, I put in a bid and was so glad I did.

That's why I decided to join with Publishing Gives Back, a grassroots auction effort, set up by BookEnds, a New Jersey literary agency. They've corralled more than three dozen agents, publishing house editors, freelance editors, and others to offer services to the highest bidder, to raise funds that will help restore the state after Hurricane Sandy's damage.

Most of the offerings -- full and partial critiques of query letters, synopses, chapters, and manuscripts -- are for works of fiction, in many different genres. But mine is for the nonfiction writer: a critique of a query letter, synopsis and the first 25 pages of a nonfiction manuscript, and an in-person coffee date (if the winning bidder is local; otherwise it's a phone call).

Traffic is picking up on the site, but there are plenty of services that are still relative "steals". Beyond the manuscript critiques, on the block are a consultation on cover design, editorial phone consults, and in-person meetings at upcoming writing conferences.

Would love it if you'd pass this along - to anyone, but especially to other Garden State writers!

Update: The auction is now closed 12/11). Thanks to those who bid on all the items. Looking forward to working with the writer who won my offering. 

What We Talk About When We Talk About The Storm

Gathering, we swap stories. In New Jersey (and I'm guessing surrounding eastern seaboard states), much of tomorrow's holiday table exchanges will be about our experience during and after superstorm Sandy.  I can't help but think how much we communicate underneath the surface talk:

Because when we talk about the storm and its challenges and aftermath, what we are really talking about is something else entirely. When we complain about being unprepared for how long power was off, the high cost of generators, the downside of TV/phone/internet bundling, we are talking about vulnerability, loss of control, the underbelly of modernity. When we cite crippled mass transit systems, we are talking about anxiety, isolation. The stories about discarding ruined food are stories about guilt and money; the stories about fighting with spouses over not having batteries or working flashlights are stories of blame.

The stories themselves are about more than, often something other than, their topline narratives. This is the goal of memoir, the personal essay, and nonfiction narratives: to illuminate what’s percolating under the surface, what drives the unfolding event, and what it tells us about ourselves.

This is why people read creative nonfiction in the first place.

The renowned spiritual thinker Henri Nouwen wrote, “That which is the most personal, is the most universal.” Readers must be able to find, in any nonfiction work about a personal experience, that which is universal – but the only way through to the universal is by way of the personal.

The excerpt is from an article of mine at the blog of The Writers Circle, titled "What We Talk About When We Talk About the Storm." I invite you to click over and read the full piece, which explores this craft aspect of writing creative nonfiction, how CNF writers must constantly excavate the real story from under the one we talk about.

Full Circle, Storm Surges, Writing, and a Reunion

Today, I have a guest post running over at Empowered Spirit, a lovely blog published by Cathy New Chester.  My essay explores how an 8-day power outage spurred (Cathy would say empowered!) me to make some changes in my life after the lights came back on.

Cathy and I grew up in the same small northern New Jersey town (where I again live). We knew each other only slightly in grade school (through mutual friends), better in high school when we shared many classes, and then, for a few decades, fell out of each other's circle.

About five years ago, Cathy and I were brought back together via class reunions, mutual friends,  and her desire to make writing an integral part of her life. Conversations and emails followed, and while we talked about writing classes, programs, and options she might pursue, her life was already brimming over with career, family, and dealing with multiple sclerosis.

Challenged by time and budget, she simply got busy, making her writing vision happen when ever and how ever she could. Today, Cathy writes for several health websites, in addition to frequently posting inspirational pieces at her blog. More, I'm certain, will happen in her writing life.

I'm really proud of her progress, and honored that Cathy credits me for helping her get on the writing path; but really, she did that herself -- because she wanted to. Cathy recently asked me to be her first guest blogger, and I'm so pleased. There's something lovely -- Cathy would likely say empowering! -- when strands once undone early in life, knit themselves back later on.

I hope you'll hop over to her blog to read my post, and some of Cathy's too.

Friday Fridge Clean-Out: Links for Writers, November 16, 2012 Edition

> The National Book Awards have been decided. All the winners and nominees, with links to excerpts from each, are at GalleyCat.

> The upside of being stuck in traffic: catching an NPR interview with Barbara Kingsolver talking about her newest novel, Flight Behavior - which by the way, has the glorious opening line: "A certain feeling comes from throwing your good life away and it is one part rapture."

> Now that the Silver Linings Playbook is in movie theaters, I'm reminded that Matthew Quick, author of the original novel, wrote a guest post for this blog back in 2008, about meeting readers during the early leg of his debut book tour.

> In a Bookslut interview, Dinty W. Moore, author of The Rose Metal Press Field Guide to Writing Flash Nonfiction: Advice and Essential Exercises from Respected Writers, Editors, and Teacher, has this to say: "...I'm almost always scrapping my beginning and ending somewhere in revision, because it is somewhere in revision that I begin to realize what it is I am trying to say in an essay, and thus for me to nail it, to get it as nearly-perfect as can be, I have to start somewhere new, and often end somewhere other than where I thought I was going."

> I was introduced to the Reddit feature AMA (Ask Me Anything) months ago by my teenage son. The idea is, an expert of some sort, or at least someone others want to ask questions of, agrees to answer any inquiries readers toss at them for a specified period. Last week, there was an AMA with Jane Friedman, former publisher of Writers Digest and current web editor of the Virginia Quarterly Review.

> If you are one of my New Jersey contacts, you know I can't stop talking about my upcoming teaching assignments at The Writers Circle. Yesterday I wrote about TWC's director, novelist Judith Lindbergh, and her turn as expert commentator on the History Channel documentary series Mankind. Such fun to know such interesting people.

Have a great weekend! 

Friday Fridge Clean-Out: Links for Writers, Post-Hurricane Sandy Edition

Friday Fridge Clean-Out - for real. 

My Friday link round-up gets its name from the way I sometimes feed my family on a Friday night, using as many leftovers as possible. I have been doing a version of that frequently since our power quit on Monday. Living in New Jersey is challenging this week but fortunately we had no property damage and family members are all okay. 

Packing coolers with ice and thawed food, cooking and eating by flashlight, piling on warm clothing, and long gas lines are nothing compared to the devastation to our south, now a Jersey Shore no one would recognize. Right now I'm camped out at my mother-in-law's dining room table, where there's heat, lights, and a neighbor's wifi signal. Hoping my East Coast readers are faring well. 

And so, the links...

> What happens to your submission once it reaches the editorial offices of a literary journal? If The Missouri Review's process is any indication, it does NOT fall into a big black hole, as writers sometimes suspect.

> Jody Hedlund has some tips for Using the 5 Senses to Make Our Stories Jump Off the Page.

> Nick Flynn, poet and author of the memoir Another Bullshit Night in Suck City (now a film titled "Being Flynn"), answers Laurie Hertzel's 10 questions about writing.

> Over at Jane Friedman's blog, guest poster Gabriela Pereira has a three step plan (that includes rolling actual dice!) for "Using Prompts to Write Better & Get Published."

> I haven't poked around there that much yet, but Storylane looks like a promising new social-media-type way to find interesting essays and other nonfiction to read. Based on the people behind it, TechCrunch thinks the sharing platform and options could spell success.

> Two things I love: Ben Yagoda and the em dash.

> Finally, what a way to go. Flavorwire's slide show of "Famous Last Words: 15 Authors’ Epitaphs." 

Have a great weekend!