tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-67267729620394879662024-03-05T11:03:12.547-08:00San Diego Writing WomenWe live therefore we writeCaitlin Rotherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12959199876686132855noreply@blogger.comBlogger126125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6726772962039487966.post-54194539005674604632013-05-08T08:37:00.000-07:002013-05-08T08:37:11.354-07:00Stopping to Kiss the Roses<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b>by Laurel Corona</b></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Life has a way, doesn’t it?</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">It’s been a little over a year since I lost my beloved Jim to cancer, and exactly a year since I moved into a shabby-chic little rental near the San Diego Zoo. I kept to my routine I established when I lived with him downtown near the bay, of walking to the college where I teach, passing every day by the rose garden that was one of Jim’s and my favorite stops on weekend afternoons. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I sprinkled some of his ashes under many of the rose bushes, and for several months I could still see signs of them under one yellow and one white rose bush. I have paused in front of those two bushes coming and going over this past year, just to say hello, catch Jim up on my life, and whisper my appreciation for him. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj38xRo4_lSXtbfMlKrz0eAbYWsldC7Y_GybBvjzwWoKpluvmndKE1_k4b1uOD9EKOLBxOhGtVzCqh9Uymgsmug0NzRTbxvmRuzmWSoFsr1QFdDeShtXHFtoxJ7CrCKyMKl6pB49hxmko51/s1600/IMG_0007.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj38xRo4_lSXtbfMlKrz0eAbYWsldC7Y_GybBvjzwWoKpluvmndKE1_k4b1uOD9EKOLBxOhGtVzCqh9Uymgsmug0NzRTbxvmRuzmWSoFsr1QFdDeShtXHFtoxJ7CrCKyMKl6pB49hxmko51/s320/IMG_0007.jpg" width="240" /></a><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"> I think there is something profound about the idea of mourning for twelve months and a day, because getting through the anniversary is such a big step. I have now done without him all holidays, birthdays, memories of special times, and have relived the pain of those last days and hours. Slowly, I have moved on, found my balance, retrieved the spring in my step. Little by little I have found there is less to say when I stop, though I always brush my lips against one of the roses which have taken in what I brought of him to that spot. Amazing how much rose petals feel like lips, and how truly I felt kissed back.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I don’t cry anymore when I talk to Jim. The vision of him in his sailor cap smelling a flower is dimmer now. That’s all right. It all still really happened. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Sometime this spring I learned that I would need to sign another year lease where I was living. Since I hadn’t planned to stay, but didn’t want to buy anything while I was unclear about my life, I decided the time was right to make the commitment of buying a place of my own. Last week I moved into a beautiful one-bedroom condo on the other side of Balboa Park, with a spectacular view of downtown, the bay, Point Loma, and the ocean beyond. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I won’t be passing by the rose garden anymore, though I will be making the occasional special trip. Instead, I bought a large armful of beautiful artificial yellow and white roses to put in my new home. No, they don’t kiss as well, but they are a way of saying that we never completely say goodbye. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Perhaps, though, it’s a good thing for both of us that my move created a natural end to my stops in the garden. Jim, you are free to take on the universe without worrying about me anymore. Now I am free to take on the other side of the park and the life that goes with it. </span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6726772962039487966.post-4917214446225428282013-04-27T09:18:00.003-07:002013-04-27T09:26:26.572-07:00Going to the Festival<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCFLlkjgeCSMhcKMK5wpx9xEb2Ypa8-1iKW2nQ_VMT3jorzAop32BWKNJ394dLHLLNq8QhqZaqpEFtDlfhylw8qDTZXwyf8Y7mBN9iPobi2kbZTSNkp2iDcF2w5G3sfPszvjMqyX1em9GD/s1600/LAT+Book+Festival+panel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="191" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCFLlkjgeCSMhcKMK5wpx9xEb2Ypa8-1iKW2nQ_VMT3jorzAop32BWKNJ394dLHLLNq8QhqZaqpEFtDlfhylw8qDTZXwyf8Y7mBN9iPobi2kbZTSNkp2iDcF2w5G3sfPszvjMqyX1em9GD/s320/LAT+Book+Festival+panel.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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By Caitlin Rother</div>
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Being invited to participate in the Los Angeles Times
Festival of Books this past weekend to discuss my latest book, LOST GIRLS, was a great honor for me, a personal and
professional milestone as well as an opportunity to see and hear some of my
favorite authors speak on various panels.</div>
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Books have always been a part of my life. Ever since I was a
little girl I have been a voracious reader, riding my bike home from the
library with the straps of my little canvas backpack digging into my shoulders
from the weight of a stack of hardcovers. I kept a checklist too, so that when
I finished each one I could check it off. <st1:place w:st="on">Mission</st1:place>
accomplished. </div>
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Growing up, I read stories about magic gardens, fantasy and all
those classics about times gone past. Later, I went into the darkness: neurotic
women, dangerous men, medical mysteries, forensics and murder. I spent many late
nights turning pages, with characters taking me on trips into the beyond and
detectives solving puzzles. Escaping.</div>
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Sometimes it was about the writing, or studying the craft,
or learning the formula or searching for inspiration. But for as long as I can
remember, it was a goal and a dream of mine to have a book published. The
authors I chose – sometimes reading most every book they wrote – were my role models.
They represented what I wanted to be. And that hasn’t changed.</div>
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Last week, I was thrilled and humbled to join them on those
stages, and yet I was also at the festival as a fan, listening and learning.
Watching and taking it all in. Overwhelmed by all the information they imparted
and seeing that they were real people too, eating soup and salad at the next table in the Green
Room. </div>
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Many of them still are who and where I want to be someday,
so I took notes on things they said, things I could do to emulate them, and to
pass on to you folks here on the blog. Here are a few tips I want to share, some of which I already
do and some I aspire to myself:</div>
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<li class="MsoNormal">Some
of these authors said they write every day, whether it’s 500 or 1,000
words, or more if they are on a roll. Sometimes they just do what they
can, or when they are in <i>the zone</i>,
they simply go until they run out of steam.</li>
<li class="MsoNormal">Sit
your butt in the chair or at your desk and don’t get up until you do get
those words down, even if it’s just a writing exercise you give yourself to
break through the blocks.</li>
<li class="MsoNormal">If you
run into a block or feel yourself fading or stuck, switch gears, pick up
another project or task. Just. Keep. Going.</li>
<li class="MsoNormal">Keep
in mind that even the best authors experience rejection (with the
exception of one of my favorites -- Ann Patchett, who I’ve heard say had her very first short
story AND first novel both accepted on first try by a reputable literary
journal and publisher, respectively.)</li>
<li class="MsoNormal">To
keep your name out there and to maintain and expand your platform, write
short stories, essays and op-ed pieces in addition to a continuous stream of books. (This is
where I started wondering, when do these people sleep?) </li>
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focus on the book that’s about to come out. You’ve already finished that
one. Always be thinking about and working on the next one. Keep the
momentum going. (I do recommend taking a break in between, though, because
too many books written too fast can drain your creative juices.)</li>
<li class="MsoNormal">Stay up
to date on changes in the publishing industry. It is changing faster than
you can say “New York Times bestseller.” Start thinking “singles,” i.e.
30,000 word pieces published online.</li>
<li class="MsoNormal">When
you get rejected, get the hell up and back at it. (I’m well acquainted
with that one.) To me, persistence and rebounding are the two keys to
getting published and staying published.</li>
<li class="MsoNormal">Don’t
expect that once you write your book that your job is finished, that it
will sell itself. If you aren’t big enough for your publisher to send you
on a book tour (most of us aren’t), then get to work months in advance to
come up with a promotions plan of your own.</li>
<li class="MsoNormal">Seriously,
and above all, don’t expect to get rich. Books, for the most part, don’t
pay much, so you’d better really love the journey, the writing and the
writing life. And feel like you couldn’t live without it. And be sure to
enjoy the occasional highs and joyous surprises, as I just did, of getting
your panel discussion televised live on C-SPAN. Sometimes they come when you least expect it.</li>
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<o:p> </o:p>Write on.</div>
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<o:p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>New York Times</i> bestselling author </span><a href="http://www.caitlinrother.com/">Caitlin Rother</a>, a Pulitzer-nominee who worked as an investigative reporter for nearly 20 years, has written or co-authored eight books: <span style="text-decoration: underline;"><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Poisoned-Love-Caitlin-Rother/dp/0786022191/ref=tmm_pap_title_0?ie=UTF8&qid=1177299454&sr=8-1">Poisoned Love</a></span><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">, </span></span></span><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Where-Hope-Begins-Tragedy-Reporter/dp/1439131503/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1242272466&sr=1-1" style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Deadly Devotion/Where Hope Begins</a>, <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/My-Life-Deleted-Scott-Bolzan/dp/0062025473/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1300375989&sr=1-1">My Life, Deleted</a>,</span> <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Body-Parts-Caitlin-Rother/dp/0786019549/ref=sr_1_5?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1223050931&sr=1-5," style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Body Pa</a><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Body-Parts-Caitlin-Rother/dp/0786019549/ref=sr_1_5?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1223050931&sr=1-5," style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">rts, T</a><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Twisted-Triangle-Caitlin-Rother/dp/0470442514/ref=sr_1_5?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1224344816&sr=1-5" style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">wisted Triangle</a>, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Naked-Addiction-Caitlin-Rother/dp/1428516913/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1316378310&sr=1-1" style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Naked Addiction</a>, and <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Dead-Reckoning-Caitlin-Rother/dp/0786022175/ref=sr_1_8?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1284066672&sr=1-8" style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Dead Reckoning</a>. Her latest book is <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Lost-Girls-Caitlin-Rother/dp/0786022183/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1325862088&sr=1-1">Lost Girls</a>,</span> about the murder of innocents Chelsea King and Amber Dubois by sexual predator John Gardner. Next up is <i><b>I'll Take Care of You</b></i>. For more information, please check her website, <a href="http://caitlinrother.com/">http://caitlinrother.com.</a> </o:p></div>
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Caitlin Rotherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12959199876686132855noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6726772962039487966.post-47483457129629216802013-04-13T09:51:00.001-07:002013-04-13T09:51:57.194-07:00"Testing... Testing..."
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">by Elizabeth Cobbs Hoffman</b></div>
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It might be assumed that a “writer’s tricks” are about
fooling readers. For me, it’s about fooling myself.</div>
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New projects are intimidating, so I begin by telling myself
that I’m not a great writer, just a good one. I don’t have to be literary,
merely clear. I’m composing a new version of <u>Fun With Dick and Jane</u>
rather than the Great American Novel.</div>
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But I’m happy in retrospect, having just completed a new
work of American history, to find I can at least clear one bar.</div>
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Another blogger recently asked me to take the “Page 99” test
established by the great English poet, novelist, and literary critic Ford Madox
Ford. (His parents must have had that wacky British sense of humor.)</div>
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Ford famously said, "Open the book [any book] to page
ninety-nine and read, and the quality of the whole will be revealed to
you."</div>
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I fretted of course. What if page 99 of <u>American Umpire</u>
(released March 4 by Harvard University Press) was a blank sheet between
chapters, or worse, filled with the antlike footnotes that spell geek?</div>
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But I now feel I can look Ford in the eye at a
Bloomsbury soiree.</div>
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Turning to page 99 of <u>American Umpire</u>, I found the
dramatis personae all on stage in their customary poses. The year was 1823. The American president
(played in this scene by cleft-chinned James Monroe) worries that the United
States is unprepared for foreign threats. Craven Cabinet members echo and
amplify his fears. The Secretary of State (starring the prickly, gimlet-eyed
John Quincy Adams) suffers fools silently, if not gladly, and bides his time
before introducing the solution he knows will take others by surprise. Off
stage, British Foreign Minister George Canning is overheard in soliloquy,
plotting the grand strategy of the <u>Pax Britannica</u>.</div>
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On page 99 and throughout, <u>American Umpire</u>
re-examines the familiar terrain of U.S. foreign relations between 1776 and the
present, discovering new overlooks and hidden trails that reveal the nation’s
place on the terrain of world history. </div>
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The first thing it finds is that—contrary to many scholarly
and even casual critics—the United States is not an empire. Instead, because of
its unusual federal structure, the government has always functioned as a kind
of umpire, compelling states’ adherence to rules that gradually earned
collective approval.</div>
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<span style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">My book traces
America’s role in the world from the days of George Washington, Abraham
Lincoln, and Franklin D. Roosevelt to the present. It argues that the United
States has been the pivot of a transformation that began outside its borders,
in which nation-states replaced the empires that had dominated history. The
“Western” values that America is often accused of imposing were the result of
this global shift. <u><span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">American Umpire</span></u>
finds that the United States has been distinctive not in its embrace of these new
values but in its willingness to persuade and even coerce others to comply. Yet
there are costs, some quite terrible. Taking sides in explosive disputes
imposes significant financial and psychic burdens. By definition, umpires
cannot win.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">On page 99, my umpire looks outside the
domestic ballpark for the first time, and onto the international playing field.
Uncle Sam must decide whether to join with Great Britain in defending the right
of Spain’s colonies to declare independence. The larger
question on Page 99 is whether America should guarantee “international security”
to ensure its own–or not?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Here, friends, is Page 99. Tell me. Did I
pass the test, or am I fooling myself again?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">*****</span><br />
<u><span style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">American Umpire</span></u><span style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">, by Elizabeth Cobbs Hoffman (Harvard
University Press)...</span><br />
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #141413; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">The offer was an
extraordinary compliment coming from the victor of Waterloo. For the first time
in its brief history, the United States was being asked to sign on to a
high-level international diktat. George Canning, foreign secretary of the
United Kingdom and America’s former adversary, courted Washington’s opinion.</span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #141413; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">Only the U.S.
secretary of state, John Quincy Adams, disagreed. He shrewdly waited until
others had vented their enthusiasm and then appealed to every politician’s soft
spot: vanity. Britain wanted to deter France and Spain from forcibly
re-imposing imperial control over the breakaway Latin republics. This was
splendid. Adams himself had acerbically lectured Britain’s minister in
Washington that “the whole system of modern colonization is an abuse of
government and it is time that it should come to an end.” But America ought to
proudly issue its own preemptive declaration, he said, rather than rowing
behind the Royal Navy. “It would be more candid, as well as more dignified,”
Adams observed, “to avow our principles explicitly to Russia and France than to
come in as a cock-boat in the wake of a British man-of-war.” Actually, it would
have been more candid for the United States to acknowledge that the whole idea
of a public protest had been England’s from the start.</span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #141413; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">By the end of the long
afternoon, Monroe was nearly persuaded. The president certainly did not wish to
be seen as deferring to the United Kingdom, not after the United States had
just lost 2,200 men defending its honor on land and sea in the War of 1812. Not
after the carpenters and painters had just finished restoring the burned-out
shell of the White House, torched by British troops in 1814. But with the
weight of the country on his shoulders, Monroe remained anxious that Spain,
France, and Russia might send as many as 10,000 troops to quell republicanism
in the Americas. He could not quite bring himself to adopt Adams’s breezy
self-confidence. Britain was the only country equipped to stop the menacing
European powers. Prudence counseled acceptance of its offer.</span></i></div>
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<br /></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #141413; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">http://www.hup.harvard.edu/catalog.php?isbn=9780674055476</span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #141413; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;"> </span></i></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00221659675173727078noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6726772962039487966.post-44943740697312479332013-04-05T16:09:00.001-07:002013-04-05T16:09:30.641-07:00Dealing with Bad Reviewsby Margaret Dilloway<br />
<br />
Today, I read J.A. Konrath's <a href="http://jakonrath.blogspot.com/2013/04/dealing-with-bad-reviews.html" target="_blank">tongue-in-cheek blog </a>about how to deal with bad reviews. Which got me to thinking how I deal with reading my own bad reviews.<br />
<br />
It used to be a lot more difficult, when I was newer and my skin was as thin and pink as a naked molerat's. I'd read all the Amazon and Goodreads posts and fret.<br />
<br />
But I never responded, <i>no matter how much I wanted to</i>. It's counterproductive-- it makes people feel defensive and it makes you, the author, look too sensitive and egomaniacal. If I get a bad review on a blog, sometimes I'll thank them for reading it anyway, because I am happy that the blogger at least looked at it.<br />
<br />
These days, I hardly ever read my reviews. If I see a five or four star, and thus know it's completely brilliant critique, I read it. It's just so easy for everybody in the world these days to have a big old fat opinion about everything.<br />
<br />
It's like when I watch the news. Every station in the world does this Twitter thing now. They discuss a story, and then the anchor says, "Let's see what people are saying on TWITTER!" and then they broadcast a bunch of Tweets with whatever their hashtag is. As if a bunch of random people have valid, newsworthy opinions about complicated subjects that they can express in 140 characters or less.<br />
<br />
I guess allowing everybody to voice their opinions is very egalitarian. But what if they're not basing their opinions on a reasonable critique, but something like, "I wish Dilloway wrote about outerspace instead and left Japan out of it. Or had more recipes. I only like sci-fi and cookbooks. One star"? It's even worse when people who didn't bother reading the book give you reviews. Those should be deleted. If you did not read the book, at least <i>lie </i>about having read it.<br />
<br />
Still, I don't say anything. You will never win. People like to argue. It's not just on the Internet. People argue with me during bookclub discussions all the time. They challenge me over imaginary characters-- characters that I wrote. And readers say shocking things to my face all the time-- things you would think they'd only be comfortable with saying on an anonymous Internet forum.<br />
<br />
Which brings me to this revelation I've recently had. Once you write a book and put it out into the world, it is no longer yours. I feel this way when I speak at book clubs-- like I'm engaging in a literature class discussion about the book, like I'm no more knowledgeable about the book than anyone else in the world.<br />
<br />
So these days, I just take reviews less personally. It's an individual reader experience. I can't force someone else to like anything.<br />
<br />
And please, if you read my book and wished it was a different book, then feel free to go ahead and write the book in your head. But don't judge the actual book against the imaginary one.Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18075195123555381434noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6726772962039487966.post-25438077062193063692013-03-31T22:51:00.001-07:002013-04-05T14:08:29.083-07:00<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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San Diego Writing Women: a Tribute</div>
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by Susan McBeth</div>
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March 31, 2013 </div>
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<br /></div>
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Easter Sunday seems like the perfect time for this token
non-published member of the San Diego Writing Women to count my blessings and
honor each of<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>the eleven talented
authors that comprise this <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>elite group.</div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Kathi Diamant</b> is
the dynamo who invited me to attend my first SDWW meeting, and I will forever
be grateful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I first met Kathi at a book
signing event and was impressed with her energy, intelligence, enthusiasm, and
vivacious personality.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Fast forward a
few months later when I encountered a situation which drew remarkably similar
parallels to Kathi ‘s search for Kafka’s “Last Love,” Dora Diamant.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I invited Kathi to lunch for advice on how to
proceed with my situation, and not only did she offer impeccable advice, but
that meeting changed my life when she demonstrated through word and deed the
power of a supportive woman.</div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Marjorie Hart</b>
will always hold a special place in my heart and ranks as the dearest author I
have ever had the privilege to meet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
words “sweet,” “authentic,” “charming,” and “humble” don’t even begin to
describe this talented octogenarian whom I am proud to call a friend.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Like everyone who meets her, I fell in love
with Marjorie the first time I met her, so much so that I have made it my
personal mission to ensure that everybody I know has read her <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Summer at Tiffany</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I founded Adventures by the Book a
little over two years ago, Marjorie honored me by being the first author I ever
hosted an event for, and it will forever remain my favorite event.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Laurel Corona</b> is
talented and accomplished, of course, but it wasn’t until I really got to know
her that I learned about the positive, supportive, and happy woman behind the
beauty and brains.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I will never forget
the moment she was seared into my heart forever.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At one of my first SDWW meetings when I was
just starting Adventures by the Book, Laurel immediately shared her trust and
faith in my new endeavor and asked if I would host an event for her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I expressed concern that I might not yet
be in a position to offer her the event she deserved, without hesitation, her
reply “I still choose you!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>forever seared
her into my heart.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Zohreh Ghahremani</b>
stormed onto the book scene in an enormous manner as a One Book One San Diego
winner, which is kind of ironic considering she comes in such a petite
package.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But anyone who knows Zoe quickly
learns that her size is the only thing small about her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I marvel how such a tiny package can be filled
with such an enormously caring, generous, and thoughtful spirit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have had the privilege of attending many of
Zoe’s events, and it is evident that she has an enormous effect on everybody,
and is able to connect with people in a big manner.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Caitlin Rother</b> is
the brilliant force behind SDWW and works tirelessly to ensure that this
talented group of women remain a united, supportive force.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With a successful investigative journalist
background, Caitlin often comes under fire for the controversial and difficult
stories she writes, but it takes a special person to forge ahead with the passion
and energy she possesses in spite of those challenges.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For that, I admire her immensely, and hope
that I can forge ahead with her courage whenever I have to face my own
professional challenges.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I immediately connected with <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Judy Liu</b> because of our common bond in telling our mother’s
stories, but I remain connected with Judy because she really has it all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Brilliant? Check. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Successful? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Check.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Caring?
Check. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Compassion? Check. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Honored daughter? Check. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She is a valued daughter, writer, educator,
and<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>friend, yet she possesses a special
gift that makes you feel the valued one when you are in her presence.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Margaret Dilloway</b>
is a wife, a mother, and a
bestselling author, and it is clear that her subtle sense of humor is one of
the resources she draws upon to succeed in all three roles.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I look forward to every interaction with
Margaret, whether it is in person, via book, or via social media, because I can
be sure that in each instance, I will come away smiling and appreciative of her
talents and her humor.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
To say that <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Georgeanne
Irvine</b> is the most passionate author I know is a huge statement, because
every author I know is passionate about what they do, but I stand by my
statement, and I am always recharged by her enthusiasm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Case in point:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>on a recent San Diego Zoo trip to India,
George achieved a lifelong goal to spot a python in the wild, and to hear her
tell the story is a treat, so make sure to ask her about it so that you, too,
can become ignited by her fire.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Divina Infusino</b>, <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Elizabeth Cobbs Hoffman</b>, and <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Caitlin O’Connell</b> are the three members
of SDWW whom I haven’t gotten to know very well yet, but how exciting is it
that I have that to look forward to?!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
San Diego Writing Women – I thank you for your gift of the
written word and for your gift of support and friendship.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6726772962039487966.post-21036455729779424812013-03-23T13:40:00.000-07:002013-03-23T13:40:03.039-07:00The Writing Workshop<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">By: Marjorie Hart</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">"Belong to a writing workshop," the pamphlet read.
"Write your story." When Cuyamaca College advertised this
program of Creative Writing in 1999 it caught my attention. Writing
workshops are nothing new, but for me it was a surprise--if you can still be
surprised at age seventy-five. As soon as I found Cuyamaca College on the map,
I signed up with a little trepidation. Going back to school at my age? Hadn't I
had enough of classrooms? For thirty years I taught Music History and related
courses at the University of San Diego and typed the nights away writing
academic papers. My husband couldn't believe I was signing up, but I knew
creative writing was a far different craft and foreign to me. .<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">On a Tuesday morning in September, I carried my briefcase with
sharpened pencils and a yellow legal pad ready to take notes. How nice, I
thought, to hear someone else lecture and make the preparations; it would be
fun to be a student again. However, instead of a lecture, we were given an
assignment. "Bring your writing with copies for the class next week."
We would read and critique each other's writings. What kind of a class was
this? Not even books to buy? Looking around, I found the room filled with
Seniors--<i>old</i> Seniors. Good Heavens!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">I was ready the next Tuesday, but embarrassed to pass out my
copies.The high quality of writing from the class was stunning. Before my turn,
a former high school principal read a hilarious story of when he was in first
grade, capturing the dialogue like a pro, then a woman, the editor of the
Audubon newsletter, read an exquisite piece about a bird sanctuary. When a
tall, lean man read a touching poem about his wife who had Alzheimer's, his
kind blue eyes misted. Mine did also. Later, I learned he attracted a wide
audience in poetry circles. There would be no critique from me that day, only
high praise. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">That afternoon was unforgettable. What better way to learn
how to write? How could I attain the high bar they had raised? At the end of
the semester the instructor collected submissions for a book called <i>Gray
Matters. </i>"You're published!!" she cried and we laughed.
Those "old" seniors became my teacher, my unrelenting support
and more important, my endearing friends.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Caitlin Rotherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12959199876686132855noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6726772962039487966.post-10210453247915959532013-03-18T21:14:00.000-07:002013-03-18T21:14:24.631-07:00Right Brain feels oh, so right!
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-size: 19.0pt;">By: Zoe Ghahremani</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: 25px; line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-size: 19.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: 25px; line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-size: 19.0pt;">When asked what is music, Victor Hugo said, " Music expresses
something that cannot be said and on which it is impossible to be
silent." Art is the same as it expresses what there are no words for. When you love a
painting, it speaks volumes to you. The right side of the brain is so right! In
defies separation of words from color, sound, or light. It's an umbrella
for all that and the possibilities have no end.</span><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: 25px; line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: 25px; line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-size: 19.0pt;">Sometimes I think I must have known this as a child as I recall a time
when nothing could stop me from discovering new artistic projects. I gave
hand-made gifts on birthdays, wrote lyrics to my favorite tunes, cut pictured
off magazines to make a collage. I sewed dresses, knitted sweaters, and learned
to weave my own straw hats. While being pushed into science , and in the absence of formal training, I became a child poet,
wrote short stories, and painted what I was unable to write. To this day, the interchange
continues to fascinate me and that alone may be the reason I’ve never
experienced what we call “a writer’s block."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: 25px; line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-size: 19.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: 25px; line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-size: 19.0pt;">With the ongoing events in Iran, the last chapters of <b><i>Sky of Red
Poppies</i></b> kept on changing. Over the years, while writing and rewriting this story, from time to time I let my poppies rest on a canvas. The present cover of this novel comes
from one such painting. To me, they are but volumes of the same book, whose
words can only be understood by those who know art. Why did I use turquoise instead of a sky blue? You may be familiar with the Persian Turquoise, but did you know that in Persian poetry, “the turquoise dome” is a metaphor for sky? When I describe a
scene, my mind paints, and in creating characters, words become my fine brush.
In short, where the pen fails, “right brain” is so free, it has no trouble finding a suitable
substitute.</span><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: 25px; line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: 25px; line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-size: 19.0pt;">This year, after I finished my final touches on <b><i>The Moon Daughter</i></b>,
I left the computer and hid myself in a room with a big “Do not disturb”
sign on its door. The result is my little “Moon Daughter”, who now sits
on the cover of the newly released novel. Maybe there will never be a border
between my outlets of expression. Then again, why should there be?</span><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: 25px; line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: 25px; line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-size: 19.0pt;">Yes, I am indeed a right brainer and I thank God for it every emotional
day of my life! </span><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<!--EndFragment--><br />
<!--EndFragment--><br />
<!--EndFragment-->Zoe Ghahremanihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03526459179374153101noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6726772962039487966.post-63379064764565400132013-03-10T17:23:00.001-07:002013-03-10T17:23:57.892-07:00The Birth of the Mini Book Proposal<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<b><br /></b>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>By Divina Infusino</b><br />
<br />
Of all the questions would-be non-fiction authors ask me
about the publishing process, the most difficult to answer is: Should I write a
book proposal?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If you intend to submit your book to a major publisher, or
even a mid-level or small one, the answer is unequivocally yes. Just the
slightest bit of research on the publishing world indicates that unless you are
Rihanna or George Clooney with a tell-all in your hip pocket, you cannot sell a
book on an idea. Even Tina Fey had to write a six page proposal for <i>Bossypants</i>. <o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But non-fiction publishers also aren’t looking for a full
book submission either. They want a proposal that nails the concept in the
overview, thoroughly summarizes the chapters, positions the book and analyzes
it for the marketplace, provides a practical promotional strategy and offers one or two sample
chapters. (The one non-fiction area where
publishers often do ask for the entire book is memoir.)<o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The book proposal question is getting harder for me to
answer because so many new authors are increasingly becoming self-publishers by
default. They begin with dreams of Random House waving a six figure contract in
front of them. But once writers get the news via agents or other professionals
on what it takes to get a book deal these days (Hint: Are you already famous in
another field, with at least 15,000 Facebook followers?), they start checking
out the myriad of self-publishing platforms. <o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So if you think you may self-publish, should you just skip
the time-consuming book proposal process?<br />
My response is a qualified no.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The book proposal is a sales tool, but it is also a plan
that can only make any publishing endeavor better. The questions that large
publishers raise are the same questions you should be answering if you are self-
publishing.<br />
<br />
*What does your book offer that other books do not? <br />
<br />
*What makes you an expert on the topic?<br />
<br />
*Do you
have a solid outline in place before you start writing the book?<br />
<br />
*How do you expect
to market it anyway? Magical thinking does not work in book publishing. You
must have a realistic plan for letting people know it exists.<br />
<o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So if you are contemplating the self-publishing route, my
suggestion is to write a mini-proposal. Include all the elements but without
the formality that a full book proposal requires. Use your mini-proposal as a strategy for publishing a book that you will not only write, but people might
actually read. <o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You will save yourself a lot of time and frustration. And
if, in the end, you decide to look for a publisher instead, you are already on
your way.<o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
Divina Infusinohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10049852575313959451noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6726772962039487966.post-68745363737935338612013-03-01T15:32:00.000-08:002013-03-01T15:32:21.753-08:00<br />
<h2>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">How <span style="color: red;">Not</span> to Write a Memoir: Ten Easy Steps </span></h2>
<h4>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">by Kathi Diamant</span></h4>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Dear Writers and Readers, </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Perhaps you’ve tried some these methods yourself. If not, trust me. These ten steps work. And although I
didn’t mention procrastination, or beating around the bush, or not figuring how
what it is you really want to say, circuiting the point as long as possible,
with no further clamor, here it is. My best advice on how NOT write a memoir:</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></div>
<ol>
<li><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Take lots of writing
classes, memoir classes, even master workshops on memoir. And then don’t follow
up with actual writing. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Make your memoir the most important accomplishment of your
life. Believe that unless you write your memoir, your life will be spent in
shallows and in miseries. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Start your memoir. Finish Chapter One. Rewrite Chapter One.
Rewrite it again. Keep rewriting Chapter One. Never start Chapter Two. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Be afraid, very afraid, of hurting someone’s feelings with
your memoir.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Refuse to show your memoir to anyone, or open it up for
critique, because “it’s not ready yet.”</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Apply for a grant or residency to write your memoir, and
when you don’t get it, use that as an excuse not to write it.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Teach memoir classes. And then ignore your own advice.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Reserve your memoir’s title with a domain name on the World
Wide Web. Leave the site blank. Don’t do anything at all with it, except pay
for it every two years. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Decide your memoir really is not that important, no one will
be interested in reading it anyway. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Give it up. </span></li>
</ol>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJP3fKwBE2XG0oV_ko3hQJuGQY6ly9iNZniIfNC6BYoYrskWaO9dw41AGg5gwQkOuHqwL-Q60vt4faOcjqBEgnD_IrD3EMloMEIRlm7wRqyTj_b3Dw5OUZujwhqUb3cawUe-3pIDML5sU/s1600/Kathi+Diamant,+since+1895.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJP3fKwBE2XG0oV_ko3hQJuGQY6ly9iNZniIfNC6BYoYrskWaO9dw41AGg5gwQkOuHqwL-Q60vt4faOcjqBEgnD_IrD3EMloMEIRlm7wRqyTj_b3Dw5OUZujwhqUb3cawUe-3pIDML5sU/s320/Kathi+Diamant,+since+1895.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kathi Diamant, in stores since 1895 (Berlin, 2012)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">***</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Okay. I tried, but I can’t do it. I can’t end this piece
there. That last step is from the title of a short story by Franz Kafka. But
that’s the one thing I can’t do. I’ve done all the others, but I can’t give up.
And as Kafka said, “As long as you keep climbing there will be steps. They will
magically appear under your climbing feet.” </span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Kathi Diamant has been
working, or not working, on her memoir “108 Coincidences: Adventures with Kafka
and Dora” or “Finding Dora, Getting Kafka” for at least two decades. In the
meanwhile she wrote a biography, “Kafka’s Last Love”, which received the Geisel
Award “Best of the Best” at the 2003 San Diego Book Awards, and is published in
translation in Spain, France, Russia, China, Brazil and finally this year in
Germany. An Adjunct Professor at SDSU, Kathi is currently teaching Memoir
Writing classes this quarter at SDSU Osher Institute. <a href="http://kathidiamant.com/">http://kathidiamant.com</a></span><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<br /></div>
Kathi Diamanthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17609084243555783435noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6726772962039487966.post-27337916307440402592013-02-22T10:40:00.001-08:002013-02-22T10:40:22.671-08:00Writing: Paving the Way to Emotional Healing<br />
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<i><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 12pt;">Note: After writing this column, Georgeanne left for a three-week journey to </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 16px;">India</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 12pt;">, to lead a tour for the San Diego Zoo. Two days later, on </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 16px;">February 19, 2013</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 12pt;">, Dorothy Irvine passed away. We at San Diego Writing Women offer our sincerest condolences to Georgeanne and her family. </span></i></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
By Georgeanne Irvine</div>
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<br /></div>
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It’s always rewarding when people are touched by something
I’ve written. I’m truly amazed by the unexpected
responses I received from a short story I wrote late last year about appreciating
and cherishing who my 94-year-old mother is now, even though Alzheimer’s has
ravaged her mind and her vocabulary. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Initially, I wrote and posted it as my Writing Women blog on
December 7, 2012: <i>Mom’s Limited World of Words: Priceless. </i>But then, in light of the
Sandy Hook Elementary School tragedy, I decided I didn’t want to send out my
usual Christmas letter featuring funny animal stories and tales of my travels.
Instead, I sent out a version of my mother’s story with the preface: “’Tis the
season to reflect on the people we love in our lives and truly appreciate them
for who they are.”</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The notes and emails poured in, and I also received phone
calls and exchanged many in-person conversations about my mom and her
situation. I heard from friends in faraway places such as India, Australia, and
Europe. Many people confided that they were dealing with the same situation
with a spouse or parent. Others said they shared the story with their friends
and family. Some, who had no personal experience with an Alzheimer’s patient were
thankful for information about this debilitating brain disease. A friend, who is a columnist for a major
publication, was moved by the story and hopes to use excerpts in a future
column. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For me, the overall experience of writing the story and
hearing back from so many people has been incredibly healing to me
emotionally. It has also made me even
more aware of everything Mom says—so much so that now I take a notepad with me
every time I visit her just in case she says something special. I now have both an email file and a hard file
labeled “Mom Said” for my notes.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Since I wrote the story in early December, Mom has provided
me with several more “gift moments” to treasure. She rarely speaks at all anymore but a few of
my favorite gems are below.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
At the dinner table, Mom hiccupped. I was surprised when she piped up with
“Excuse me.” Another evening at dinner
she coughed, pointed at her chest, and said, “There’s something bad in there”
followed by “I think it’s getting better.”
My favorite dinner conversation was when the dining room emptied out and
I asked Mom where everybody went. Her
response was, “Did they die?” </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A few other brief conservations just plain tickled me! This
first one didn’t make much sense, but at least it was an exchange between us:</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I said, “Hi Mom. I’m
Georgeanne.” She paused for a moment and said, "And I'm Mrs.
Smith." I'm not sure who Mrs. Smith
is but at least she comprehended what I was saying. Her comment made me giggle, which made her
smile. Then I asked, “What did
you do today?” Mom replied, “Well, we
cut the cashews,” which resulted in another giggle from me and another smile
from Mom. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This next conversation happened in early January when Mom
was particularly alert and surprisingly very perky—I’d have to rate it as the
best one of this year. She kept talking and
making incomprehensible comments while we were listening to live music after
dinner. Then she said something that
sounded like “Is it going to rain this week?”
I wasn’t sure that’s what she said so I asked, “Is it going to rain this
week?” meaning, is that what you asked?
Her response was priceless: “I
don’t know. I’m asking you.”</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
However much time Mom has left on earth is anyone’s guess. She
could live to be 100 or she could be gone tomorrow. What I do know is that treasuring every moment
I spend with her, keeping track of her words, writing about her, and sharing
her story with others is helping me in more ways that I ever imagined. </div>
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<o:p> </o:p> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<em><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">San Diego native
Georgeanne Irvine has devoted more than three decades of her career to raising
awareness about animals and wildlife conservation. By day, she is associate
director of development communications for the San Diego Zoo, where she has
worked for 35 years. George is also the author of more than 20 children’s books,
plus numerous magazine, newspaper, and Web articles. George’s most recent work
is the coffee table book,</span></em><span style="color: #333333;"> The Katrina
Dolphins: One-Way Ticket to Paradise<em><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">, which is a true story about 8
dolphins from an oceanarium that were washed out to sea during Hurricane
Katrina in 2005 and dramatically rescued a few weeks later.</span></em></span></div>
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<br /></div>
Caitlin Rotherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12959199876686132855noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6726772962039487966.post-1789727313790070552013-02-15T13:51:00.000-08:002013-02-15T13:51:10.465-08:00Vacation or Bust<br />
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">By Caitlin Rother </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnQ97AIwOqZ0K6QAk2r-5KrNECwUJTUfNyGgJ-sKhiKMzfIaxl65AtbNPoF1x9gVx5y_nvcTaPPhQUTb24rufU9xKa6h6yvyyBHBMGw8SZxKNfNgVW3N1W5WQKJPgNL_PJYfYE4wgMv_U_/s1600/Sunset+in+LJ+2012.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="191" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnQ97AIwOqZ0K6QAk2r-5KrNECwUJTUfNyGgJ-sKhiKMzfIaxl65AtbNPoF1x9gVx5y_nvcTaPPhQUTb24rufU9xKa6h6yvyyBHBMGw8SZxKNfNgVW3N1W5WQKJPgNL_PJYfYE4wgMv_U_/s320/Sunset+in+LJ+2012.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">I was going to write about the
importance of taking a vacation from writing. How good it was to go to a
spa in Calistoga and relax in hot spring pools of varying temperatures and let my mind go blank. I’d never done it before and, I have to admit, it was
delightful to revitalize my creative juices by clearing out my brain and letting
it rest after weeks of tireless editing the manuscript I just turned in to my
editor. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Taking a break was effective, because I got an idea for a new novel as
I was taking a walk in the crisp air of <st1:place w:st="on">Northern
California</st1:place>, many miles from home. I felt that old optimism
creeping back in.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">But then I got a bad news
email this morning about a non-fiction book project that I’d been working up
for the past year and was planning to pursue for publication this year. So,
instead, I’m going to write today about persistence, rebounding from rejection
and the determination I have to perpetually call into play as I keep plugging away as a
full-time author. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">For now, it looks like the
project is dead, and if I am unable to revive it, I have no other income lined
up for the year. I didn’t have a contract for the book yet, so there was no
guarantee anyway, but I had already spent a good deal of time and energy
researching and interviewing and thinking as I was putting the book proposal
together. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Yes, that is the glorious,
glamorous life of a full-time author, a career that I have often likened to
professional poker player, due to the high degree of risk and speculation involved.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Because I generally write
about true-life tragedies – crimes and memoirs – the people I write about and
work with often have experienced significant levels of trauma, and talking to
me brings up all kinds of painful memories. It can make them physically and
emotionally sick and cost them sleep. Most of them suck it up and share
their stories, but sometimes, they just can’t face going there, or say they
can, but find they can’t. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">I have had many people cancel
interviews, stop returning phone calls and emails, and disappear on me without
explanation. Some are victims or their family members, others are police
detectives or attorneys who are just overwhelmingly busy dealing with cases
involving the traumatized. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">I know it’s not personal so I
don’t take it that way. Still, all of that is very stressful for me as well, as
you might imagine, because I have deadlines to meet and bills to pay. But this
is the kind of story that I’m drawn to or finds me, and it’s what I’m good at,
so I have to be compassionate, understanding, flexible and, most important, I need to stay level-headed and refrain from panicking. When a source gets cold feet, I
do a <st1:place w:st="on">LOT</st1:place> of soothing and trying to ease fears,
apprehension and pain; I have to be sincere and genuine or it doesn’t work.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Curiously, I also have to do this
for myself, to perpetually put my own feelings into perspective. I have to temper the hope that
people will buy the book that I’ve poured my guts into for the past however
many months or years. For me, maintaining where I am is not really good enough -- I am always trying to reach new levels of achievement. I always try to set the bar as high or higher than my last book, which, if you have a <i>New York Times </i>bestseller, or a
publicity-drawing title, both of which I’ve had in the past couple of years, is
not an easy feat. It means that I place that much more pressure on myself
to match my own past accomplishments. As a close friend of mine likes to
say, if you’re competing against yourself, you will always lose. But I'm stubborn that way.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Sometimes I get tired and
want to quit, go get a day job working for a guaranteed salary and health
benefits. But that so far hasn’t worked out or the urge has dissipated as I sit
in the sun at 11 a.m. and realize I've worked too hard and sacrificed too
much to give up the freedom I’ve earned since I quit the newspaper business in
2006. Writing books is addictive, but to survive and <i>thrive</i>, I have to live my life one project at a time, one year at a
time, and constantly re-evaluate.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">So that’s what I do on a day
like today. I look back at how long it’s taken and how hard I’ve worked to get
where I am. I remind myself of how grateful I am for the successes I’ve had, despite bumps in the road like this one.
And I refocus on the goals I’ve set for myself for the year. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">I’d purposely left
myself an open window so I could explore some new things this year, stretch
myself by trying to pursue some different types of writing, work on building my
platform, and line up more speaking engagements. I just didn’t realize how big
and open that window was going to be. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">So I will open my mind
and let the creative breezes blow on through. I’m fortunate in that several of
my projects seem to have come out of nowhere, with an unexpected phone call, right
through that open window. I will just keep telling myself that somehow, some way,
I will find that next perfect project, the one that will help me get where I
want to be. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">As you might imagine, I
already have a few ideas rolling around. I just got back from vacation.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>New York Times</i> bestselling author </span><a href="http://www.caitlinrother.com/">Caitlin Rother</a>, a Pulitzer-nominee who worked as an investigative reporter for nearly 20 years, has written or co-authored eight books: <span style="text-decoration: underline;"><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Poisoned-Love-Caitlin-Rother/dp/0786022191/ref=tmm_pap_title_0?ie=UTF8&qid=1177299454&sr=8-1">Poisoned Love</a></span><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">, </span></span></span><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Where-Hope-Begins-Tragedy-Reporter/dp/1439131503/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1242272466&sr=1-1" style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Deadly Devotion/Where Hope Begins</a>, <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/My-Life-Deleted-Scott-Bolzan/dp/0062025473/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1300375989&sr=1-1">My Life, Deleted</a>,</span> <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Body-Parts-Caitlin-Rother/dp/0786019549/ref=sr_1_5?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1223050931&sr=1-5," style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Body Pa</a><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Body-Parts-Caitlin-Rother/dp/0786019549/ref=sr_1_5?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1223050931&sr=1-5," style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">rts, T</a><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Twisted-Triangle-Caitlin-Rother/dp/0470442514/ref=sr_1_5?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1224344816&sr=1-5" style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">wisted Triangle</a>, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Naked-Addiction-Caitlin-Rother/dp/1428516913/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1316378310&sr=1-1" style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Naked Addiction</a>, and <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Dead-Reckoning-Caitlin-Rother/dp/0786022175/ref=sr_1_8?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1284066672&sr=1-8" style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Dead Reckoning</a>. Her latest book is <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Lost-Girls-Caitlin-Rother/dp/0786022183/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1325862088&sr=1-1">Lost Girls</a>,</span> about the murder of innocents Chelsea King and Amber Dubois by sexual predator John Gardner. For more information, please check her website, <a href="http://caitlinrother.com/">http://caitlinrother.com.</a></div>
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<br /></div>
Caitlin Rotherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12959199876686132855noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6726772962039487966.post-40506473364723609012013-02-08T09:50:00.000-08:002013-02-08T09:56:30.418-08:00Private Substance<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">
<br />
by Laurel Corona<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">And soon a branch, part of a hidden scene,</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">The leafy mind, that long was tightly furled,</span></span><br />
<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">Will turn its private substance into green,</span><br />
<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">And young shoots spread upon our inner world.</span></div>
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">These lines, the end of the poem “A Light Comes Brighter,” by one of my favorite poets, Theodore Roethke, was on my mind as I walked home from the college this week. It’s about the first signs of the end of winter, and indeed they can be found in San Diego already--despite the limited drama of changing seasons around here.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; min-height: 14px;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0VFlNV83oX4Tz-D7yd7q1yOlgPJXzFza2VEmkiVx68vG8PygG3Xx1SWQSesUUuLARRSom_wYV6DV-R5VzhOcWGho5AEM6FZFFfdYOp6qaHD5h-9uSQNEkr4oL8pbSLNGIr-OSHJRGEDQ-/s1600/pruning.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0VFlNV83oX4Tz-D7yd7q1yOlgPJXzFza2VEmkiVx68vG8PygG3Xx1SWQSesUUuLARRSom_wYV6DV-R5VzhOcWGho5AEM6FZFFfdYOp6qaHD5h-9uSQNEkr4oL8pbSLNGIr-OSHJRGEDQ-/s1600/pruning.jpg" /></a><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">The first time these lines etched themselves into my consciousness was almost thirty years ago, when my home on a canyon rim was scorched by wildfire, leaving the yard looking like a huge ashtray and the trees scorched to a russet brown.. “It’s a miracle how the fire went around this house,” the reporter from the local news chirped from my driveway. My heroic neighbors, who had spent the afternoon on my roof with garden hoses, greeted that comment in muttered disgust: “Yeah, some miracle.”</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I thought the trees were dead, but within a month, I saw a hint of something and went out to investigate. There, in clusters of perfect little emeralds, was life reasserting itself.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">When I see the first leaf buds or early blossoms every year, my heart lifts at the sheer doggedness of the will to live that had quietly been doing its work all winter. I often think of Roethke’s poem then, particularly the beautiful last line, where he reminds us of our own internal winters, and the green shoots that come up, often by surprise, to signal that perhaps it is time to put behind whatever has been dreary and cold, and regrow ourselves.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">My daily walk to and from the college where I teach takes me past the Rose Garden in Balboa Park, and there is something about the brutality with which rose bushes are cut back in late December that always wounds me. Today the nodes are swelling and the first leaves are breaking out, turning their private substance into green, just as the gardeners with their faith and pruning shears, knew they would.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Last February I lived not just in a different home in a different part of town, but in a different world. My beloved partner, Jim, was declining noticeably from the cancer that would steal his life in April. When June came, I cried because he was not there to see the jacarandas whose purple blooms he had always appreciated with the glee of a child. There was only winter for me last summer. There was even less for him.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">But sap does rise and the juices of this beautiful life do surge again. Somewhere between then and now, the sad, furled leaves of my grief and sorrow opened to reveal something lush and green and full of promise. It’s called life. It’s called understanding that we are still here, and rejoicing in that single, beautiful fact. It’s what our own internal green shoots are trying to tell us as every season, every stage of life beckons.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">As seems to be often the case with my blog posts for San Diego Writing Women, you are probably at this point thinking, “What does this have to do with the writing life?” Well, quite a bit to do with mine.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">A number of months ago, I wrote here that, “I can’t write about writing or the writing life today, because I am not doing any of the former, and as to the latter, I don’t have one.” I’d have to say that’s still true. I have been dormant. I haven’t written one word of fiction, or edited anything I had finished before Jim got sick. I’m perfectly okay with that, and have no sense of urgency and no plan to do anything different for now. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">In the poem, such a time is called winter, but for me, life is not cold and dreary, it’s simply not the season for the pen. In the last few months it’s been the right time for lecturing on a cruise line, seeing movies, taking up golf, making some new friends, palling around with old ones, and starting to think about loving again. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I don’t speculate about my writing future, although my friends seem certain I have one. Blessings on you for your confidence and support. Maybe you are right, but unlike the roses in Balboa Park that shared their wisdom with me this week, I am not stuck with being able to produce only one kind of flower.</span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6726772962039487966.post-27431952173305030962013-02-03T17:27:00.001-08:002013-02-03T17:27:43.522-08:00On the Nature of Truth in Nonfiction Writing<br />
By Caitlin O’Connell<br />
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I’m sitting in rural Georgia right now looking out over a small finger of the twenty-four square mile Lake Sinclair, with a niggling feeling at the back of my mind relating to the nature of truth in nonfiction storytelling. This issue is so irksome that I can barely enjoy watching to two Great Blue Herons fumble past on the best wings they can muster, something having startled them from the trees, sending their all-legs-and-wings stature scrambling aloft the glassy pink water at sunset.<br />
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I keep asking myself (and other writers) how it could be considered OK to call a work “nonfiction” when an author uses some true event or person as a construct to structure their fictionalized story around. If the line between truth and fiction is arbitrary—left up to the writer’s discretion—then what? Buyer beware? I work really hard to keep the truth in place in my nonfiction writing, while still trying to tell a rich story. I had always taken the word “creative” in the term “creative nonfiction” to mean using the tools of fiction to create an engaging (and true) narrative.<br />
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I won a national award for one of my nonfiction books last year and at the award ceremony this discussion came up and I left the conversation very conflicted. And I’ve been conflicted over differing perspectives on the nature of truth ever since. Because I’m teaching a writing course at Georgia College called It’s All In The Telling (as a Newel Visiting Distinguished Scholar), I’m trying to formulate my angst into a lecture on the topic. Hence, why I can’t enjoy the blue herons until the matter is settled in my mind.<br />
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There is talk of the idea of compressed time in creative nonfiction, where elements of the story are best served by combining time elements or even characters. Sure, one can compress certain time elements for effect, whether something happened just yesterday or some days ago, but when you combine different characters for effect or compress time to the point of no longer representing the truth of a situation, but serving as a convenient dramatization, in my humble opinion, that’s a whole different story—a fictional story. In my personal handbook for truth-telling in nonfiction, any minor tweaking of time cannot alter the underlying facts. But this is a bone of contention in the nonfiction world.<br />
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For example, although I loved the book, THE PERFECT STORM, it was a fictionalized account of what may have happened on the Andrea Gail as no one lived to tell about it. But the book was billed as nonfiction and did extremely well (as a disclaimer, I thought the book was genius—just couldn’t possibly be the “truth” entirely and thus I would call it historical fiction, or perhaps what the tv programmers are calling factual drama??).<br />
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This brings me to my thought experiment. My husband and I have been having some fun involving “time-compression photography” and I’m using the result here to illustrate my point. Take this example of real events. Consider this unaltered photograph of my brother just before New Year’s while jumping in the water for a cool down between the island of Maui and Lanai.<br />
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Next, let’s focus our attention on the photograph of the visitor that swam by just minutes later, only my brother was not in the shot with this beautiful humpback whale.<br />
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Now what happens if we compress time? My brother was under water in this very geo-location some ways off of Lahaina at a good depth, while turning around to give me the local Hawaiian hello (shaka) with both hands. And this whale was also almost in this very spot less than five minutes later. If we compile two truths, overlay them on top of one another—then voila, my brother is a whale rider! Amazing, right? Do we care that he did or didn’t ride the whale just as long we were entertained?<br />
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Is this next time compressed image a more acceptable shade of grey?<br />
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At what point do legitimate realities get compressed such that they are no longer true? Do we care? Does the audience have the right to a truth-suspension disclaimer? Sure, this time-compressed image is definitely entertaining….but can’t the truth also be entertaining? If one can’t find a way to make the truth entertaining, then why not just call it fiction?<br />
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This is also a hotly debated topic in nonfiction tv programming these days and some don’t see my complaints as problematic or an attack on the integrity of nonfiction programming—just a reality of a changing industry.<br />
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Check out this panel on the wildly successful Hatfield & McCoy series on the History Channel that took place last Monday at ReelScreen for more details on the controversy:<br />
http://summit.realscreen.com/2013/sessions/65472/factualdramafusingfact/#.UQnVtPLKe34<br />
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Caitlin Rotherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12959199876686132855noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6726772962039487966.post-12331422285241373242013-01-27T08:43:00.002-08:002013-01-27T08:43:39.468-08:00Infatuated Me<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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by Elizabeth Cobbs Hoffman<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Have you ever had a crush—the type that sends poetry bubbling to the lips? Who hasn’t? </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">One minute you’re sitting on your mat in the kindergarten sharing circle, peaceably noshing graham crackers and milk, and the next, that boy with short blond hair and flinty grey eyes—Marty Fishburn!—rocks the planet. Not that he knows it. He’s too busy unraveling his paper straw, and shows more interest in the fly that lands on the teacher’s head than in you.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Later, when you’re mature, words are required to get a crush rolling. You’ve acquired some confidence in your powers of attraction. A cute cashier in the college bookstore crooks an eyebrow and asks about your day, and you respond with a direct look and sunny smile. Experience leads you to expect a fair fight—or at least an </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px; text-decoration: underline;">entente cordiale</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"> in which both parties attend the negotiations. It might take weeks before you realize you’re not the only customer in the checkout line being checked out. But it’s too late and now you’re besotted. Only careful consideration of the dirt under his nails gives you any hope of recovery.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">The most complicated crush of all—and now you know you’re getting older—is one on an institution. It starts insidiously, when you head to the old alma mater for reunion day. Here is the ivy-covered bell tower and the scruffy classrooms where you spent many a day in mild contemplation of the trees outside the window. There is the corner behind the chapel where night-blooming jasmine caresses the walls and you gave up a kiss twenty years earlier. What was that boy’s name?</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">The soft pump of sprinklers is the only sound when you take an early walk along brilliant lawns while shiny undergraduates set out scones in the alumni center. You pause under a shady oak tree, inspired to scribble a few lines that might turn into a new story. It’s always peaceful on a college campus in the morning, and the woodsy perfume of wet mulch wafts up from pansies that have been planted just in time for your arrival. You—and a thousand others.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Is it your imagination or are students smarter than they were twenty years ago? Logarithms sprawl across blackboards glanced through open doorways. Colorful posters announce lectures by famous writers of whom you’ve never heard, while laughter flashes from the window of a seminar room. What would it be like to be inside that glorious building once more?</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Professors with bulging foreheads stroll the quad with far away expressions that suggests E=MC</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><sup>2</sup></span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"> in the hopper. You look critically at the lines you’ve written and close the notepad. They wouldn’t fetch a gentleman’s “B,” you fear.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">You’ve entered snowball phase. You now love your old school more than when you were a student. Fortunately, the reunion ends before you can get into too much trouble. Monday finds you back in the real world.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Unless, as happened to me, you are suddenly given—voila!—the gift of a year’s residency at the old college. I’m a professor at San Diego State, and last year I won a writing fellowship at my alma mater, Stanford, which has an endowment rivaling the treasury of a European principality.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">So I arrive with my research notes and sturdy rolling backpack. A pencil protector isn’t far behind.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">The visit starts innocently enough. I’m issued keys, including one to the building next to the iconic bell tower. Roses grace the foyer. My new office is large, with freshly washed windows overlooking the old stone library. At State, the maintenance staff doesn’t do windows. Ever.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">A new computer arrives. I log onto the precious university website with its endless collection of e-books and journals available only to subscribers. Bingo! My new ID number and I’m in the castle. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I can just feel brain cells multiplying. Words crowd onto the page, jostling to get there first. I kick out second drafts with the speed of a laser printer. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Crumpled pages that miss the wastebasket are gone the next day, as if Aladdin’s genii worked for Facilities Management. At a public school, trashcans are emptied once a week. Communal bins placed in crowded hallways help out when an unfinished cheese sandwich turns ugly on day three or a redolent banana peel becomes embarrassing.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Every week the elite alma mater seems a little more posh until, at the end of the second month, it hits me. I have a hopeless case of unrequited love. This university may enjoy flirting, but it will never be my steady. My heart is swelling and breaking at the same time.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Until the morning when I pass the bell tower as the gardeners are sprucing the campus for graduation weekend. A protective mask over his nose and mouth, the friendly worker gives me a nod and turns back to his task, spray-painting the lawn a bright emerald. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">So that’s how they keep the grass greener at a private college.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">It took a few months, but I finally got over my crush. Thankfully. My overheated writing pace steadied into a routine that I could maintain when I returned to State. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">The best moment in an infatuation is when it ends. But please don’t tell Marty Fishburn that I still like him.</span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6726772962039487966.post-43267481343437345702013-01-18T14:59:00.002-08:002013-01-18T15:02:13.157-08:00Pulpwood Queens Weekend<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">By Margaret Dilloway</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">I’m getting ready to head to Pulpwood
Queens in Jefferson, Texas, again. Jefferson is known for two things: a raucous
book convention, and ghosts. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The Pulpwood Queens is an
international book club with more than 500 chapters. It’s run by Kathy Patrick,
whose salon, Beauty and the Book, is the only hair salon/bookstore that I know
of (and really, what a good concept. Buy a book and read it while your hair
sets). Every January, around 400 Pulpwood Queen members congregate in Jefferson
to eat, drink, and listen to authors talk about their books. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">I first heard about PQ through Jamie
Ford. He’d posted a bunch of photos of himself…in a White Rabbit
costume…surrounded by the Red Queen and Alice and all these other characters. <i>What the what?</i> I thought to myself. Obviously,
this was not your typical book festival, and I wanted to go!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">So, last year I went for the first
time, dressing as a clown, a circus showgirl, and in an '80s prom dress (each
night has a theme). I met Caroline Leavitt, Sarah Jio, Eleanor Brown, Robert
Hicks, Carolyn Turgeon, Lisa Wingate, Kathryn Casey, <a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6726772962039487966" name="_GoBack"></a>River
Jordan, Bill Torgerson, Karen Harrington, Michael Morris, Robert Leleux, Rebecca
Rasmussen, Stephanie McAfee, Marybeth Whalen (who looked sooo familiar and then
I realized that she’s the image you see when you log into Author Central), and
many others. As an extra special bonus, I also get to hang out with my Texan
friend Julie Kibler (whose marvelous novel, <i>Calling
Me Home,</i> debuts early next month).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">This year, I’m going with extra-special
purpose. The Pulpwood Queen clubs voted my newest novel, <i>The Care and Handling of Roses with Thorns, </i>Bonus Book of the Year,
an honor previously won by Jamie Ford, Jeannette Walls, and Jennie Helderman.
I’m so honored and pleased.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">And like I said, Jefferson’s known
for its ghosts. This year, after I booked our B&B, I thought, “Hmm, I
wonder if this place is haunted?” Lo and behold, a Google search told me, “It’s
the most haunted place you could hope to
stay.” Gulp. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Don’t worry, my husband’s going with me, and he won’t mind if I
wake him up every time I have to use the facilities. I’ll have to see if
there’s an app to translate ghost voices.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Caitlin Rotherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12959199876686132855noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6726772962039487966.post-32808656177453199042013-01-11T16:45:00.000-08:002013-01-11T16:57:27.065-08:00Give a Book on Behalf of Sandy Hookby Susan McBeth<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">“A tribe is
a group of people connected to one another, connected to a leader, and
connected to an idea. For millions of years, human beings have been part of one
tribe or another. A group needs only two things to be a tribe: a shared
interest and a way to communicate.”</span></i><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"> <br />
― <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1791.Seth_Godin"><span style="color: blue;">Seth Godin</span></a>,
<i><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/3873014"><span style="color: blue;">Tribes: We Need You
to Lead Us</span></a><o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<br />
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<span class="readable"><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">What do <a href="http://www.sethgodin.com/sg/">Seth Godin</a>, international bestselling
author and entrepreneur extraordinaire, Sandy Hook Elementary School, and ten
of Southern California’s most talented and beloved children’s authors and illustrators
have in common?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The answer is that they
have all inspired this individual, for one brief moment in time, to take on a
leadership role to move a tribe connected to an idea.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What does that mean precisely, you may ask?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
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<span class="readable"><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Like everyone else, I was stunned and horrified
by the senseless shooting at Sandy Hook Elementary School last month.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As I sat glued to the television set, trying
to make sense out of something that is frankly beyond my powers of
comprehension, I remember feeling an overwhelming despair and fear that, as
moved and shocked as we all were by this tragedy, gun control laws would likely
not change and mentally ill individuals would still not receive the resources
they so desperately need.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span class="readable"><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">I was waiting for our leaders to act – to do
something – to change something – to lead us out of this dark hole so that we
could rest assured that a tragedy like this would not occur again. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was then that I remembered Seth Godin’s
words and realized that any one of us could be a leader, could enact
change.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could not bear the thought
that the loss of those beautiful and innocent lives would change nothing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I could not wait for anyone else to do
something.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So I chose to act.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span class="readable"><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Godin assured me that all I needed to form a
tribe was a shared interest and a way to communicate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was
clear there existed a shared interest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Everyone wanted to help, as evidenced by the international outpouring of
donations rained on the Sandy Hook community immediately following the
shooting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When those donations exceeded
the capacity of their community to distribute, Sandy Hook representatives
advised that the best way we could honor their memory was to make a difference
in our own communities.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
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<span class="readable"><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">How then to move our tribe to make such a
difference?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Enter ten of the most
talented and beloved children’s authors and illustrators in Southern California
who, through their books, illustrations, and appearances inspire, delight, and
teach on a daily basis.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They could
communicate our message, and so I enlisted their support and created a “Give a
Book on Behalf of Sandy Hook” book drive and fundraising campaign to take place
on Saturday, February 2, 2013, from 2:00-5:00pm at <a href="https://www.facebook.com/login.php?login_attempt=1#!/pages/The-Yellow-Book-Road/135198728682?fref=ts">Yellow Book Road</a> children’s
bookstore in San Diego.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
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<span class="readable"><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">On this one afternoon, we ask all San Diegans
to join our tribe to communicate to the Sandy Hook community, and to the world,
that we can make a difference, that we send a message of compassion, hope, and
change.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On that one afternoon, join our
tribe, come out and meet <a href="http://www.scholastic.com/titles/nodavid/davidshannon.htm">David Shannon</a>, <a href="http://www.robinpreissglasser.com/">Robin Preiss Glasser</a>, <a href="http://www.pammunozryan.com/">Pam <span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">Muñoz</span> Ryan</a></span></span><span class="readable"><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">, <a href="http://www.marlafrazee.com/">Marla Frazee</a>, <a href="http://boygirlparty.com/splash/welcome.html">Susie Ghahremani</a>,
<a href="http://www.candaceryanbooks.com/">Candace Ryan</a>, <a href="http://www.annikamnelson.com/">Annika Nelson</a>, <a href="http://www.edithfine.com/">Edith Hope Fine</a>, <a href="http://www.salinayoon.com/Home.html">Salina Yoon</a>, and <a href="http://www.kathleenkrull.com/">KathleenKrull</a>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our goal is to sell 450 books,
representing the student body at Sandy Hook Elementary School.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The authors will autograph books, and then
you, too, can include a personal message as well.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span class="readable"><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">The books, as well as the proceeds from the
sales thereof, will be donated to the <a href="http://www.centerforchildren.org/">San Diego Center for Children</a>, a
non-profit organization that for 125 years, has cared for San Diego’s must
vulnerable children by providing expert therapeutic care and counseling for
children and teens suffering from mental health challenges.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The donated books will support their highly
successful Intensive Reading Improvement Program, and the donated funds will
support their treatment programs to equip these special children with tools to
make them successful, self-confident, and contributing members of society.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span class="readable"><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">For more information, visit <a href="http://www.adventuresbythebook.com/upcoming-events/meet-the-author-events/sandy-hook-elementary-school-benefit-book-drive-fundraiser/">Adventures by the Book</a>. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I believe in our tribe!<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6726772962039487966.post-78123822720446998842013-01-04T09:11:00.002-08:002013-01-04T09:11:33.372-08:00What is Talent?<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
By Marjorie Hart </div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Happy New Year! 2012 was a year to remember, but I'm looking
forward to the next best thing in 2013. For new ideas I turn to my
sister, Katherine, who is 91 and author of six books. I find she's already
in the middle of projects, waiting for the reprint of her WWII story
about her husband<i>, Bail Our Over the Balkans</i> and finishing two more
books. Katherine is never idle.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Neither are writers or readers. When readers tell their remarkable
stories, I insist that they write it before it's forgotten. Some have,
others will, but too often I hear, "I don't have that kind
of talent." </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">What is talent? Can it be developed?</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Webster's definition
doesn't satisfy, though several bestsellers have been intriguing. My
mother's favorite quote was:Talent is 90% perspiration and 10% inspiration. In
a recent splurge of emails, Katherine and I reminisced on the subject going
back to the Thirties. This was one of them.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Winter came one early morning in Iowa--</span></span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">so cold our bedroom
wallpaper was covered in a layer of frost. I couldn't bear to dip my toe from
the covers. At the last moment, I dashed downstairs to the kitchen which was
heated by an enormous black coal stove. Katherine, standing by the oven door,
was practicing Kreutzer violin exercises, the music rack too hot to touch. By
the time I warmed my hands with a cup of cocoa she had finished an hour of
practice "because my teacher said so."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">In our small town, music contests became the most captivating
event of the year. A win at the district meant advancing to the state contest at
the University of Iowa, and then to the national in Cleveland. Our Story City
High School superintendent was so enthusiastic, he excused Katherine from study
hall to "go home and practice." As a sophomore, she became
a contestant at the state level and I was thrilled to be in the
crowded auditorium. Excited for her, though anxious, I noted the heavy
competition of contestants from much larger cities and the intimidating sight
of judges so close to the stage. Katherine, the last one to compete--our
mother was the accompanist--entered the stage confidently to perform
the dazzling Bruch violin concerto. Every so often--though not often
enough--there are unforgetable moments when I can still feel
goosebumps at the memory. . <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"Oh my," a lady said when she finished, "how lucky
to have that God given talent!"<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Katherine's response: "Marjorie — I didn't have much talent —
mostly practice and a good teacher."<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Caitlin Rotherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12959199876686132855noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6726772962039487966.post-86206982443145707882012-12-29T19:22:00.002-08:002012-12-29T19:22:35.045-08:00Zohreh (Zoe) GhahremaniZoe Ghahremanihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03526459179374153101noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6726772962039487966.post-31797525347711021042012-12-28T14:52:00.000-08:002012-12-28T14:53:13.025-08:00The True Stars<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<!--StartFragment-->
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
And the award
for best supporting role goes to… The Readers! </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
Writing may be
the easiest part of a writer’s job. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Once your book is born the real work begins because now you
need to raise, nourish and educate this child and even if you succeed to marry
it into a good publishing family, your worries will never end. We seldom
hesitate to consider what or who is behind our sweet taste of success. Forever
the youngest in the family, I never believe anything I do is worthy of
appreciation. I’m always looking for ways to find the reason behind what others
may perceive as my success. Sometimes it’s hard to give credit where it’s due,
but when it comes to writing I can see it clearly. We are writers because of
all the readers out there. These are the people who make the dream become a
reality, who support us when we lose faith and who give us hope. Little do they
know how they help us to exhale the breath that for years we’ve been holding
in.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
I can’t begin to
imagine what would become of us if there were no readers. True that the world would
still have as much to say and there would be countless stories to tell, but in
the absence of readers, how many of those stories would be written down? Would
there be any books? Any libraries?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
This line of
thought fascinates me. We think we write because we have something that needs
to come out, but how many of us would continue our work if there was absolutely
no one to read our story? Would we suffice to make notes in our diaries? And if
stories were only communicated verbally, would we still “show not tell?” Would
there be any punctuation?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
As I continue to
make my rounds through local book clubs and book discussion groups, it gives me
a chance to study readers with a whole new pair of eyes. Not only are most of
them smarter than the writer, the mere fact that they read my work is a huge
success. At my best, I write one book every few years, but they have thousands to
choose from. So what makes them choose mine? </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
My observations
brought me to the conclusion that most readers look for a piece of themselves
in what they read and the books they like are often the ones where they find
such a piece. The genre doesn’t seem to matter, nor does the length of the book,
and the publicity surrounding it has a much smaller role than we think. When a
reader curls up with a book, he or she is in search of a connection, something
that “hooks” them. And that “thing” is often a part of who they are. That’s why
you hear them say, “I was there, I became one with the main character, couldn’t
put it down!”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
So how do we
know who these readers are and what they look for? To try and second-guess
readers is the biggest mistake a writer can make. Writing “for the market” may
work for a short time, but after a while the truth comes out because readers
know more than you think. Regardless of genre, a writer must remain true to the
word. A well-researched documentary can be as gripping as a real mystery and as
profound as an emotional drama. You can’t “tell” a reader what to think, but
rather, you portray an interesting character, create the scene, tell the story,
and let them do their own thinking. And if you are lucky, someone out there
will connect, which will ultimately bring you another reader, and then another.
Before you know it, the number of readers has grown geometrically and you have
met your success. Oh, but it’s as much the reader’s success as it is yours!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
So the next time
you want to give yourself a good pat in the back for having written that great
American novel, find a reader and praise him or her for having made it possible
and never forget, you’ll maintain the success only if you sustain the honesty
that initially hooked them and that alone will “keep them hooked!” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Zoe Ghahremanihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03526459179374153101noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6726772962039487966.post-85909362337799859712012-12-19T00:39:00.001-08:002012-12-19T00:39:05.852-08:00Writing Amid Crosscurrents<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>by Divina Infusino</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Recently, I confronted
the dilemma that many authors and writers eventually face. I wrote text for a website.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Writing for
your website is a quandary, if, that is, you want to put the site to its full
use. It is not required, of course. You
can just conceive of the website as a digital brochure, describing what you do,
your work, who you are, as well as providing contact information and links to
outlets where people can buy your books.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">However, taking
full advantage of your website means getting your site to show up in Google
searches outside of your name and book title. So when someone types in “historical
fiction, California” and you’ve written a novel set during the gold rush of
1849, people unfamiliar with you or your work can discover you. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">There’s only
one problem: To appear in the Google search results related to specific keywords
will probably require you to write a search-optimized website. The prose for
these types of sites are not governed by the same dictates demanded by books,
articles, essays, or any other written form that require traditional
writing expertise. Search engine optimized writing is ad copy. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Just the way
television and radio advertising reaches for earworm-like words or turns of
phrases, website copy is manipulated. It should reference the keywords that
most suit you and your work. In fact, it should reference those keywords a lot.
That’s the rub, if you are an author.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Most writers
fight redundancy in their word choices. (Unless, of course, they are using
repetition for effect).</span><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Website
writing is just the opposite. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">A tool like Wordtracker or Google Trends will
tell you the most popular keywords and phrases related to your topic. It is now
your job, as website writer, to pepper those keywords throughout the website
and do so as often as possible. The more you repeat, the more Google algorithms
will associate your site with those keywords and therefore rank it higher in
the search results.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">So how do
you promote yourself as a writer and author when you are forced to violate one
of the basics tenets of good writing? Very carefully.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Think of
your website text not as writing but as a game of strategy. You can "play" the same keywords again and again
without drawing attention to the repetition by parceling them out.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">For
instance, place your identified keywords in your global navigation or in a tagline
under your name. Or refer to them when flagging your next speaking engagement
or workshop, and in your bio. Collect your most important keywords in the site
description that accompanies your site submission to Google. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">There are
many tricks in the search engine optimization trade. Try to use the ones that
your website designer/developer can finagle into the code. If you have the
budget, you can hire someone who specializes in search optimization for advice.
Or you can take a short workshop. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">You can have
an optimized site without jeopardizing your reputation as a writer. It just takes
a different mindset.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Divina Infusinohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10049852575313959451noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6726772962039487966.post-47519200606915745882012-12-07T10:16:00.001-08:002012-12-07T15:05:30.486-08:00Mom’s Limited World of Words: Priceless!<br />
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">By Georgeanne Irvine</span></i></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></i> </div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqB4yBgcFMFrugBSaPAOCOI8KWj4oBsBN-HLwlAkHjtremt1hE8j0wYyevCzmJUcGbhMHvaI_801QxeASSz8lHk_zja-cOJw3RSplEDU55uFteX-rz35-RPs40T9TdVa4neYlCTu35NYeT/s1600/4050077Easter2012cropLR.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="228" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqB4yBgcFMFrugBSaPAOCOI8KWj4oBsBN-HLwlAkHjtremt1hE8j0wYyevCzmJUcGbhMHvaI_801QxeASSz8lHk_zja-cOJw3RSplEDU55uFteX-rz35-RPs40T9TdVa4neYlCTu35NYeT/s320/4050077Easter2012cropLR.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mom and me: Easter 2012<br />
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<o:p><span style="font-family: Arial;">For most of my writing life, my beloved mom, Dorothy, has
been one of my greatest supporters and fans.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>When I wrote my first children’s book, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Sydney the Koala</i>, I read the manuscript to Mom over the phone and she
loved it!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Whenever any new writing
project came my way, Mom always shared in my excitement.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She also helped dissipate any self doubts I
may have had about my writing ability.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mom
was my mentor and editor—until about 15 years ago when her memory started to fail
her and her vocabulary dwindled. </span></o:p><span style="font-family: Arial;">Now Mom is 94 ½ years old and is in the late stages of
Alzheimer’s.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She lives near one of my
siblings and me in an assisted living home, where she is wheelchair bound and
needs help in every aspect of her existence.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>One of us (and usually both) visits her daily and works with the staff to
make her life as enriching as possible.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Arial;"> </span></o:p><span style="font-family: Arial;">When Mom speaks—which isn’t often--her vocabulary is
extremely limited and much of what she says in unintelligible.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her journey through this debilitating disease
has been long and challenging for our entire family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Instead of grieving for who she was, though, I
decided to appreciate and cherish who she is now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Anything she says that I remotely understand
is a true gift to me. Simple words, phrases, and sentences that I took for
granted for so many years are now precious and meaningful.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Mom has her good days and her bad days.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I mentioned that by phone to my brother,
with Mom sitting nearby, she piped up, “Well, I think everyone is like
that.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That same day she also told me, “I’ll
stay up ‘til it’s dark.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What a gem of a
day!</span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">She often mixes up words:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>hot means cold, all animals are dogs but roses are chickens.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you ask Mom her age, it could be anywhere
from 183 to 23 years old.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Once when I
explained she was 94 years old, she said “How can anyone stay that long?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was elated to hear that response.</span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">This week during one of my visits, she had several moments
of clarity, which made the evening incredibly special.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was feeding her and had paused, with food
in spoon, to greet one of her caretakers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>When I turned my attention back to Mom, she looked at the spoonful of food
and said, “Will you hand it to me now?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>After dinner we watched a video about the San Diego Zoo’s giant panda
cub.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I pointed at the panda and asked,
“What is that?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her response:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“It’s a story,” and indeed it was a story—a
video story.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As I kissed her goodbye at
7:45 p.m. and told her it was time to go “night night,” she looked at the clock
and proclaimed, “Oh, it isn’t even 8 o’clock!”</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">We usually end our visits with a duet of “Happy Birthday to
You.” As long as I sing it with her, Mom remembers the words and the tune!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We always sing it three times, although on
her 94th birthday, it was an even dozen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">My most memorable day by far, though, happened in early
fall.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mom looked at me and without
prompting said, “You’re Georgeanne.” I was taken aback as well as touched deep within
my heart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She hadn’t called me by name
in years!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Seconds later, her
recollection of my name was gone but that fleeting moment of lucidity was
priceless.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You’re Georgeanne”—such
simple words from anyone else but words from Mom that l will treasure forever. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<em><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"></span></em><br />
<em><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">San Diego native Georgeanne Irvine has devoted more than three
decades of her career to raising awareness about animals and wildlife
conservation. By day, she is associate director of development communications
for the San Diego Zoo, where she has worked for 34 years. George is also the
author of more than 20 children’s books, plus numerous magazine, newspaper, and
Web articles. George’s most recent work is the coffee table book,</span></em><span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"> The Katrina Dolphins: One-Way Ticket to Paradise<em><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">, which is a true story about 8
dolphins from an oceanarium that were washed out to sea during Hurricane
Katrina in 2005 and dramatically rescued a few weeks later.</span></em></span></span><br />
<br />
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<o:p><span style="font-family: Arial;"> </span></o:p></div>
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<o:p><span style="font-family: Arial;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Arial;"> </span></o:p></div>
Georgeanne Irvinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17603887783404593076noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6726772962039487966.post-27344155274955523482012-12-01T10:18:00.004-08:002012-12-01T12:26:51.459-08:00Grants, Residencies and New Possibilities<br />
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by Kathi Diamant</div>
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There are myriad ways to create a meaningful life as a
writer, on a writer’s meager income, besides writing. Some of us teach. Others edit.
And still others, like me, apply for grants, fellowships and residencies, which
provide for rich and rewarding adventures, opportunities that we never dreamed of,
creating new stories to tell. </div>
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Writing grants isn’t easy, but neither is it quantum
physics. Basically, it’s a matter of following the always-provided guidelines. A few
hours research at the San Diego Foundation can yield intriguing prospects or
spark new possibilities for your own life. Did you know that there are grants
for international travel, for research in libraries and national institutions,
funds to attend conferences that will help you meet and engage with other professionals
and potential colleagues? There are. Hundreds, if not thousands, of foundations
and institutions have resources to help you write and research your story. </div>
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If you live in <st1:city w:st="on">San
Diego</st1:city>, visit the San Diego Foundation at Liberty
Station, where you can find the Nonprofit Resource Center (NRC), offering research
services, publications, and workshops to the public. Free and open Monday through Friday, the NRC
offers information on grants to individuals (like you and me) with an online
database of over 6,000 funding sources in education, research, arts and
culture, and special needs. Staff is on
hand to help, and you don’t need an appointment. More information is available at <a href="http://www.sandiegofoundation.org/">www.sandiegofoundation.org</a></div>
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Last year, through the NRC database, I learned about a grant
opportunity I had never considered before, but thought, why not? I applied and a few months later, received an
Eastern European research residency as a Scholar at the <st1:placename w:st="on">Woodrow</st1:placename>
<st1:placename w:st="on">Wilson</st1:placename> <st1:placename w:st="on">International</st1:placename>
<st1:placetype w:st="on">Center</st1:placetype> in <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Washington</st1:city>, <st1:state w:st="on">DC</st1:state></st1:place>.
I spent the month of February 2012 in DC, where I had a tiny carrel and huge
computer, in the hushed library of the <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placename w:st="on">Wilson</st1:placename> <st1:placename w:st="on">Center</st1:placename></st1:place>.
I could write undisturbed, with instant access to specialists at the Library of
Congress and National Archives. The grant was enough to pay for my little room
on <st1:street w:st="on">A Street</st1:street>
and all expenses, plus a little on the side. I was blissfully happy. </div>
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Writers have long enjoyed the creative comradery of writers colonies
and retreats. My favorite is Hedgebrook. Since 1988, the six Amish-style
individual Cottages at Hedgebrook have provided a Heaven on Earth for thousands
of women writers across the country, including, incidentally, a handful of San
Diegans. Located on Whidbey Island in <st1:state w:st="on">Washington</st1:state>’s
<st1:place w:st="on">Puget Sound</st1:place>, Hedgebrook is a retreat for woman
writers, published or not, offering solitude in a extraordinarily creative
environment. And it’s all free. In exchange for room and board, Hedgebrook only
asks that each woman be the best writer she can be while she is there.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMhlevN10cZf6ZvfyfRPN_GsKqjA-zjYUuNoPnehMK8FsInU_Dt6eaNOVNBRGO0s_APifvSMptyC7Z02uRjylLXUdJPGRDxVVDzCU7Q_x9GMHBW6JnmId7Y-4zuKjLh2GcnGCqCy4c2OU/s1600/Fir+Cottage+at+Hedgebrook.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="222" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMhlevN10cZf6ZvfyfRPN_GsKqjA-zjYUuNoPnehMK8FsInU_Dt6eaNOVNBRGO0s_APifvSMptyC7Z02uRjylLXUdJPGRDxVVDzCU7Q_x9GMHBW6JnmId7Y-4zuKjLh2GcnGCqCy4c2OU/s320/Fir+Cottage+at+Hedgebrook.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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I first applied to Hedgebrook in 1992, and was accepted for
a five-week-long residency the following year. Surrounded by nature, by fir and
cedar, ponds and meadows, eagles and deer, I was in heaven. There was no
telephone, no television, nothing to interrupt the chain reaction of my
thoughts. My handcrafted little cottage opened onto a fern-filled meadow with
view of <st1:place w:st="on">Puget Sound</st1:place>. On clear days I could see
the <st1:city w:st="on">Seattle</st1:city> skyline in the distance, across the
sound, and beyond that, looming large more than 70 miles away, the ethereal
outline of <st1:place w:st="on">Mount Rainier</st1:place>.<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Hedgebrook’s cottages offer everything a writer could need
or want: an expansive desk, lots of light, a wood-burning stove, kitchenette,
bathroom, window seat. Upstairs, in the loft lighted by the stained-glass
windows, is a comfy bed with feather pillows and down comforter. A local chef
cooks all the meals for the six writers in residence, and dinners are served
nightly in the farmhouse by homemade-candlelight. </div>
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I’ve been back to Hedgebrook three times since, once for
another residency, and twice for week-long master classes. Now, my fingers are crossed
once again. A couple of months ago I applied for another residency to work on
my memoir. While I certainly can write,
sitting here, as I usually do, at my computer, Hedgebrook offers me a break
from usual, to a land of dreams and chance. I should hear in the next week or
so. In the meanwhile, you might want to check out Hedgebrook for yourself: <i><a href="http://www.hedgebrook.org/">www.hedgebrook.org</a>.
<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<br /></div>
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Why not? </div>
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****</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Kathi Diamant is the
award-winning author </i>of Kafka’s Last Love<i> and an adjunct professor at SDSU, where she directs the Kafka Project,
the official search for Franz Kafka’s lost literary treasure. Kathi has
lectured internationally, and taught classes on writing, acting and on literary
genius Franz Kafka. Earlier this year, she received a month-long residency at
the <st1:placename w:st="on">Woodrow</st1:placename> <st1:placename w:st="on">Wilson</st1:placename>
<st1:placename w:st="on">International</st1:placename> <st1:placetype w:st="on">Center</st1:placetype>
for Scholars in <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Washington</st1:city>,
<st1:state w:st="on">DC</st1:state></st1:place> to continue her Kafka Project
research. </i></div>
Kathi Diamanthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17609084243555783435noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6726772962039487966.post-40774017594963737362012-11-23T08:04:00.001-08:002012-11-23T08:04:18.467-08:00Mitzvah Magic<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">by Laurel Corona</span><br />
<div style="min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">I never understood that bumper sticker a few years back that admonished us to “practice random acts of kindness.” Kindness is not whimsical. It is not an arbitrary virtue that we can choose or discard based on our mood at the time. If we are to practice kindness, should we not do it continuously?</span></span><br />
<div style="min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">In Hebrew the word “mitzvah” means both “commandment” and “good deed.” This makes far more sense, because whether one believes in God or not, there is something about any good deed that feels commanded. Thou shalt not fail to do it, because it is right, and kind, and necessary. Thou shalt do it, because thou art a human being.</span></span><br />
<div style="min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Sometimes when Jews are thanked for doing someone a favor they shrug and say, “it’s a mitzvah.” The shrug says it all. It was just that obvious what needed to be done.</span></span><br />
<div style="min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">On this day after Thanksgiving, I write in honor of those who have been shrugging all year at my paltry attempts to express my gratitude during this difficult year. I have so many friends in so many places, from so many networks I have developed over the years, but I especially want to single out the members of San Diego Writing Women who have played such a role in my healing after the illness and death of my beloved husband, Jim.</span></span><br />
<div style="min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">On this website, the members of San Diego Writing Women are supposed to blog about the writing life, and I am going to take the liberty that a post about life and the writers in mine is close enough. </span></span><br />
<div style="min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">I simply cannot imagine the last year without you. You aren’t the only ones who supported me, of course, but in the time we have been working together some of my closest friends have come from this group. You know who you are!</span></span><br />
<div style="min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Thank you for checking in to make sure I was okay as Jim got sicker.</span></span><br />
<div style="min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Thank you for dropping everything to come over to my house the day he died to have dinner with me and affirm that I was still going to have a wonderful, although changed life.</span></span><br />
<div style="min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Thank you for inviting me out when I was in the early stages of grieving.</span></span><br />
<div style="min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Thank you for not hovering too much.</span></span><br />
<div style="min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Thank you for cheering me on when I won San Diego “Book of the Year” for a second time, for <u>Finding Emilie</u>, and my number one cheerleader wasn’t there to see it. (The photo is of me and a tearful Jim when I won for the first time, for <u>The Four Seasons</u> in June 2009.)</span></span><br />
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Thank you for coming over to my new place and letting me practice being successfully on my own again.</span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Thank you for being joyous when I started to date after "only" six months. Thank you for knowing that life is a story, and it’s important to live the whole thing fully. Who would know that better than you? Who would be less likely to judge than those who inhabit other people’s stories as writers do?</span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Thank you for helping me return to normal. It’s a new normal, but a good one.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">One mitzvah never exists in a vacuum, but is part of a web that in time forms a real community. I’ll leave the random acts of kindness to people who don’t get that. As bathed in love as I feel, I intend to pay it back, forward, sideways--any way at all, as Roy Orbison sang. You got it!</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">I hope every reader’s Thanksgiving was a wonderful one, and that the year ahead continues to bless us so mightily. Laurel</span></span><br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6726772962039487966.post-90532329833991431932012-11-16T12:06:00.001-08:002012-11-16T12:19:19.753-08:00The Gestation of a Very Personal Essay<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipKde_KAbD2IP5JtOT8DBF6e2POUa6j0x-nryPjDQw1meIowoNDjPaO8ENvk8cHd7IbZxqE00Sw2tDRRm9Idbh8A_pJ6OBwM1Vf1x1p8wBcHz_tVnjaiy1JRBy-_PhMxTZebJSnV27Qgio/s1600/Lily+pad.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipKde_KAbD2IP5JtOT8DBF6e2POUa6j0x-nryPjDQw1meIowoNDjPaO8ENvk8cHd7IbZxqE00Sw2tDRRm9Idbh8A_pJ6OBwM1Vf1x1p8wBcHz_tVnjaiy1JRBy-_PhMxTZebJSnV27Qgio/s320/Lily+pad.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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By Caitlin Rother</div>
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It’s only taken me fourteen years, but
I’m proud -- and relieved -- to say that I’ve finally finished a very personal essay.
Frankly, it feels like I’ve completed an intellectual and emotional marathon. </div>
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It’s no coincidence that it took me
fourteen years. That’s how long it’s been since my husband committed suicide,
and it’s taken me that long to process and balance the emotions about my
marriage and its tragic end to a healthy enough place that I could write about
this sensitive and inflammatory topic for people other than myself to read.</div>
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Until very recently, I didn’t fully
realize that the trauma and the aftermath of these experiences were still
affecting me after all this time. I guess I should have known, because I’d
stopped and started this essay multiple times, feeling like I still didn’t know
how to finish it, or even what it was really about.</div>
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It needed to be about more than our
relationship and his death. As I tell my students, you need to know what your
story is about, but you also need to know what it’s <i>really</i> about – in other words, what you, as the writer, discovered
while writing it, which gets incorporated into the piece, the underlying
themes, and also what message you want to leave with the reader. I knew the
answer to none of these underlying questions until just a couple of weeks ago.</div>
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I wasn’t always planning to write
about this topic, but as a journalist who has made a name for herself writing
about heavy topics such as bizarre deaths, murder, mental illness and
addiction, it seemed fitting to others that I tell this story.</div>
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“You should write about it,” an
editor from <i>Cosmopolitan</i> told me back
in 2001, as we were editing a piece for the magazine about the Kristin Rossum
case, which was the topic of my first book, <i>Poisoned
Love</i>.</div>
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“Well, I guess I could,” I said.</div>
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It did seem like a good idea at the
time -- what better way to heal myself than to write about the medical and
psychological issues involved in my own story, to try to help and educate
others in the process. But I wasn’t ready. I wasn’t sure why, I just knew that
I wasn’t. I didn’t know where to start.</div>
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Some years later, I thought it was
time. So I sat down for several hours and wrote in longhand about the various
memories that I used to relate to people – the worst things, the most shocking
things, because there were many. There were several 911 calls, a call from
jail, a trip to the county mental hospital in the back of a police car, his numerous
trips to rehab. There was fighting, lying, fear and anger. But it all seemed
like a rant, so negative, and so one-sided. </div>
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As I discussed the idea with an
editor I was working with on one of the memoirs I was helping someone else
write about his own traumatic and emotional journey, I knew I needed to find
some positive things to say about my own, but I still found that very
difficult.</div>
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My husband was a talented and well
respected investment executive who ran the <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placename w:st="on">San Diego</st1:placename> <st1:placetype w:st="on">County</st1:placetype></st1:place>
pension fund, and he probably loved me more than anyone ever has or ever will.
But he was also a severe alcoholic with borderline personality disorder who was
in a blackout when he took items from the gift shop at a resort in <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Phoenix</st1:city>, <st1:state w:st="on">Arizona</st1:state></st1:place>,
where he was attending a conference. The sad thing was that he was so ashamed of
being seen as an alcoholic that he decided to let people think he was a thief
instead, and resigned from his job rather than go through the public
humiliation of admitting to his addiction during the civil service process. There
were so many sad, scary and awful moments during our four years together that
the end was more of a relief than anything else.</div>
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Recently, I went through some
things in my personal life that brought a lot of these emotions back up again,
and somehow, I managed to break through the paralysis that had
prevented me from finishing this story.</div>
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These events finally helped me figure
out what my essay was <i>really</i> about. It
was about me finally reaching the point where I realized I was still hanging on
to emotions I thought I’d already processed, and by writing about this, I was
able to deal with them, find those positive things, and balance myself to a
point where I could let go and move on. </div>
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I made some changes to the essay
and added a new ending, then showed the piece to a trusted friend, asking him
if he felt I’d truly finished this time, and resolved the issues for the reader
that I’d felt were hidden or left hanging.<br />
As much as I didn’t want to hear
this, he told me that I still wasn’t finished. That it still read like “I had
my bra and panties on.” He said I needed to go deeper, reveal even more. Ugh. </div>
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He suggested that I sit down again
with pen and paper and write longhand, starting with, “I remember…” </div>
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I wasn’t sure I could face that,
but I did that the next day, and by golly, the day after that I added 1,500
words to my essay. In the following day or two, I remembered more, and added nearly
1,500 more words. The essay ended up being twice as long, far more balanced and
far more comprehensive than it was before. </div>
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I read the new portions I’d just
written aloud to another friend, and when I started to cry, unable to say those
new positive thoughts, those healing thoughts, out loud, I knew I was really
done. I had healed myself, and in the process, my essay as well.</div>
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So now that that journey is over, I
am faced with the next step, which is trying to find the right place to publish
6,000 words of this new form of writing, the literary essay, which is a whole
new challenge in and of itself for me. </div>
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But that’s never stopped me before.
</div>
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Onward.</div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; text-indent: 0px;"><i>New York Times</i> bestselling author </span><a href="http://www.caitlinrother.com/" style="text-indent: 0px;">Caitlin Rother</a><span style="text-indent: 0px;">, a Pulitzer-nominee who worked as an investigative reporter for nearly 20 years, has written or co-authored eight books: </span><span style="text-decoration: underline; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Poisoned-Love-Caitlin-Rother/dp/0786022191/ref=tmm_pap_title_0?ie=UTF8&qid=1177299454&sr=8-1">Poisoned Love</a></span><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">, </span></span></span><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Where-Hope-Begins-Tragedy-Reporter/dp/1439131503/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1242272466&sr=1-1" style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; text-indent: 0px;">Deadly Devotion/Where Hope Begins</a><span style="text-indent: 0px;">, </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; text-indent: 0px;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/My-Life-Deleted-Scott-Bolzan/dp/0062025473/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1300375989&sr=1-1">My Life, Deleted</a>,</span><span style="text-indent: 0px;"> </span><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Body-Parts-Caitlin-Rother/dp/0786019549/ref=sr_1_5?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1223050931&sr=1-5," style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; text-indent: 0px;">Body Pa</a><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Body-Parts-Caitlin-Rother/dp/0786019549/ref=sr_1_5?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1223050931&sr=1-5," style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; text-indent: 0px;">rts, T</a><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Twisted-Triangle-Caitlin-Rother/dp/0470442514/ref=sr_1_5?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1224344816&sr=1-5" style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; text-indent: 0px;">wisted Triangle</a><span style="text-indent: 0px;">, </span><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Naked-Addiction-Caitlin-Rother/dp/1428516913/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1316378310&sr=1-1" style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; text-indent: 0px;">Naked Addiction</a><span style="text-indent: 0px;">, and </span><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Dead-Reckoning-Caitlin-Rother/dp/0786022175/ref=sr_1_8?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1284066672&sr=1-8" style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; text-indent: 0px;">Dead Reckoning</a><span style="text-indent: 0px;">. Her latest book is </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; text-indent: 0px;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Lost-Girls-Caitlin-Rother/dp/0786022183/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1325862088&sr=1-1">Lost Girls</a>,</span><span style="text-indent: 0px;"> about the murder of innocents Chelsea King and Amber Dubois by sexual predator John Gardner. For more information, please check her website, </span><a href="http://caitlinrother.com/" style="text-indent: 0px;">http://caitlinrother.com.</a></div>
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Caitlin Rotherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12959199876686132855noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6726772962039487966.post-33682375144670313742012-11-08T16:05:00.000-08:002012-11-16T11:56:46.557-08:00A Path Paved By Doing<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
By Caitlin O'Connell</div>
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<br /></div>
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I woke up this morning with Carol
King’s lyrics in my head: “I feel the earth move under my feet”, before
learning that there had been a strong enough earthquake at 1 a.m. to shake the
bed, causing my dog’s sudden outburst of barking. It wasn’t the moon shadows
cast in an unfamiliar back yard this time. Poor little Frodo spooks easily—but
this time with good reason. There was indeed a quake caused by a shifting of
plates out here in the middle of the pacific where I am ensconced on the most
isolated island chain in the world for another month, partly for paid work as a
scientist and partly fishing for a new perspective for a creative idea that I
hope will bear fruit eventually. Perhaps the margarita or two that I had to
celebrate my first royalty check from the UK (barely enough to finance the
first round, but for me, still worth the celebration) dampened my senses to the
quake because I had no memory of it. But clearly I was shaken enough to allow
King to enter my psyche.</div>
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As a writer, I often place myself
in unfamiliar surroundings to facilitate what I view as a “lens” effect to help
focus my writing and energize my senses with a new environment. This physical
and psychological novelty helps to breathe new life into an idea that has
become tired or has languished in writer’s block for too long—or in some cases
gives birth to a whole new and fresh idea much better than the one that I
couldn’t seem to let go of until the new one appeared. Of course dropping
everything and going on a trip this isn’t always a convenient thing to do, but
sometimes there’s only so much rearranging of one’s desk, or massaging of
talismans, headstands, hyperventilation, or whatever it is that a writer finds
helpful to elicit inspiration, before picking up and experimenting with an
entirely new place as a path to inspired writing.</div>
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<span style="mso-no-proof: yes;"></span></div>
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The road to success as a writer for
me started out with a six-figure offer and a deal with one of the top six
houses (the Simon & Schuster imprint Free Press). I was flying high at the
time (as depicted by my horribly naïve enthusiasm captured in this photo taken
on top of Haleakela, Maui when I heard the news) but it didn’t take long to realize
that sustained success was only going to come with incredibly hard work (and
ditching the optimistic photographs). Fortunately, I didn’t quit my day job as
a scientist as the honeymoon quickly turned into the same mountain that I
thought I’d never have to climb again. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>My agent at the time told me that it wasn’t enough
to write a first book. A second book was not going to be guaranteed. In fact, a
first book that didn’t sell well was almost worse than not having written a
book at all. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Really</i>? <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">A tried and true author was not as valuable
as the new new untested thing?</i> That’s what I was told.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsBmDu8c8OKpNg_wP38J5NJ7wsf3o-MIiiXQldiMTUUSbjlKOqVTHh9GABxunDEK0iUuZ3LGy176JypeNP2-2Cw1rNcqK0ZKxIqUYPRm8Vl4Wc3v9cCKXbg2c2336yy2r_8uhfhgig0Xkg/s1600/my+first+book+deal+on+top+Haleakala.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsBmDu8c8OKpNg_wP38J5NJ7wsf3o-MIiiXQldiMTUUSbjlKOqVTHh9GABxunDEK0iUuZ3LGy176JypeNP2-2Cw1rNcqK0ZKxIqUYPRm8Vl4Wc3v9cCKXbg2c2336yy2r_8uhfhgig0Xkg/s320/my+first+book+deal+on+top+Haleakala.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Three books later and a new
contract with Houghton Mifflin Harcourt for a fourth and another one pending, I’ve
learned that my path is my own to make and maintain, but not always the desired
one. I’ve had to make sacrifices and write what others have wanted me to write
in order to position myself closer to my vision of where I want to be. I have
written creative nonfiction as a way of developing a writing portfolio, but the
stories I really want to tell require fiction to convey the truth. And although
the nonfiction path is not what I would have chosen, it was a necessary one, one
from which I’ve learned a great deal about how to become a better storyteller—a
tool that I hope will allow me to carve my way into fiction more easily. My
first adult fiction manuscript (based on my first nonfiction book) is currently
being considered and the road hasn’t been smooth but I’m hoping for a new
beginning.</div>
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Over the course of my career as a
writer, I’ve had to create my own little earthquakes to shake up my perspective
and help envision the road ahead. I’ve had to be light on my feet, make my own
opportunities and shape my own destiny as a writer because it became abundantly
clear over time that no agent or editor was going to do that for me. I’m the
only one that’s going to move the earth under my feet. In a previous writing
trip to Paris, I latched on to an expression that I read in a Soulages exhibit
at the Pompidou. He said: “It is in doing that we realize what it is that we
are looking for.” These words have become an important mantra for my writing.
For the times that I’ve had the confidence to allow myself to write myself into
a new world with uncharted territory, the story has been much better for it.
And that’s how I hope to continue my writing journey: as a slow but steady path
paved by doing.</div>
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