Posts Tagged Under Writing Mamas
Micky Dolenz and Midnight Rides
Fresh material from a former Writing Mama, Cynthia Rovero.
My tumultuous years as a teenager attending Tamalpais High School in Mill Valley were full of secret experiences too shameful to share with family members. This includes remaining as tight lipped as my conscience allows with my children too. I sometimes find myself hinting at my past with tip-of-the-iceberg secret stories from that shady time of my life.
One such episode began like this: at the age of 14, while walking home from high school, a beautiful African American lady, about five years older than me, pulled up beside me in a blue mustang to offer me a ride. I hopped in and embarked on some wild adventures with Chantrelle, my randomly found new friend. Continue… »
By Cynthia RoveroA Parent’s Death
Two years ago today we got the call that you never want to receive. My dad had a heart attack and was being flown by helicopter to a hospital two hours away from his home. We didn’t know what was happening but my brothers and I immediately jumped on planes from our different corners of the country then drove a torturous five hours to his hospital in a remote part of Kansas. I remember that night, being forced to sit in the plane and then the car while wanting to do something, to see him, to help him.
Dad never liked doctors and trusted them even less when our mom died 10 years before. At 84, he was incredibly healthy for a man who smoked and liked to drink his beer and wine. A case of polio when he was a young man gave him weakness in his leg, but he still got out in the yard every day to work on his lawn and garden. When my son Ethan and I visited three months before, Dad happily participated in the Easter egg hunt albeit with a cane and we laughed together over the giant plate of ribs they served at the American Legion.
He seemed indestructible. Continue… »
By Paula ChapmanGirlfriend, You’ve Got Game
Part Two of my 2008 “Vacation Adventure” with Verna in Cabo San Lucas, where we relaxed and, um, drank the night away one special and wild evening.
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Next Johnny brought up the six or seven men who’d bet on the women and had them sit at tables in front of the ladies. Verna still had no sponsor and didn’t want one.
Johnny paired the final six women into three groups. Verna was in the first duo with a woman who had on a loose-fitting gray tank top, her breasts spilling out the sides.
Each woman had to dance and then the judges chose one from the pair. Verna went second and danced up a sultry, sexy storm. The crowd, led by a certain skinny-framed American, hooted and hollered. When she finished, her face flushed and sweaty, Johnny proudly exclaimed, “Girlfriend, you’ve got game. You can really move.”
Verna was clearly the oldest of the competitors, most of who were in their 20s. Her “partner” had muddled her way through her dance, slightly reminiscent of Elaine on Seinfeld. But the “judges” voted for only one contestant. In an extremely close vote, Verna was booted off the tequila-soaked island, but not before Johnny ordered a round of tequila for our group, because she was such an excellent dancer. Continue… »
By StevenFWriting Mamas Keep Each Other Grounded
I’m thrilled and so honored to have been accepted into the Community of Writers at Squaw Valley. And don’t tell anyone, but I’m also terrified and intimidated each day. I have to walk into a big room full of strangers a few times a day to hear speakers. I have to voice my critiques of work twice a day, advising wonderful writers what they need to do to improve their work. I have to insert myself at a table of strangers every night for dinner.
That’s the easy stuff. I also had to sit still and listen for 90 minutes while 11 other writers critiqued my novel. And I met one-on-one with one of the most well known editors in the business to get her comments on my nonfiction entry. Continue… »
By Marianne LonsdaleCracked Open
I had my piece “workshopped” today. That means that yesterday, the other 12 people in my group read the first two chapters of my book. (13, if you count the facilitator who, in our case was Leslie Daniels, an agent-turned-author). Then today they talked about it. I brought bagels for the group, which proved to be a nice distraction; I found I was so preoccupied about the presentation of the bagels, I forgot to be nervous about the group’s feedback.
Different moderators do different things. On Tuesday Dagoberto Gilb guided the discussion by introducing themes and asking questions. Yesterday Jason Roberts spent the first half hour talking about craft. Today we did a “whip,” as it is called, where we go around the room and each person discusses the piece. The moderator goes last. Usually the author gets a chance to speak at the end, but Leslie Daniels preferred that the author remain silent. Her rationale is that it is practically impossible for the author to respond without sounding like she is reacting. The author does not have to defend herself.
However, in the middle of the discussion for my piece, I had to interrupt. Because I was bawling and I wanted people to understand why. Continue… »
By Janine KovacBike helmet…check, bike shorts….oh-oh
Well, Janine has certainly set the tone about The Writing Mamas week at the Squaw Valley Writers’ Conference. Too soon to tell about key learnings, workshop glee and despair. We’re too rummy with information and emotion right now.
I so over-packed for the conference. Six pairs of shoes – flip flops, black semi-fancy sandals, sneakers, hiking boots, and two pairs of walking shoes, one blue pair, one brown. Five pairs of pants. Two sun hats. Three notebooks – one for the workshops, one for the speakers and panel discussions and one just in case, for whatever. A 20-can box of Diet Coke. One box of 12 of my favorite mechanical pencils. I’m too lazy to get up from this table and count how many tee shirts and blouses hang in the closet. Continue… »
By Marianne LonsdaleThe Mark of a Writer’s Nose
We begin this week with a series from our Writing Mamas members “in the field.” About a half dozen Writing Mamas are ensconced at the Community of Writers in Squaw Valley for the week. Squaw is a highly rated invite-only retreat. Our members have offered us a peek behind-the-scenes of an exclusive writer’s workshop.
Our first journal entry comes from member, Janine Kovac.
This week I am at Squaw, and I can’t help noticing how every writer here has a lot of cartilage between his nostril and the tip of his (or her) nose. I keep looking at the undersides of people’s noses and thinking, how large this nasal piece of real estate is. I mean, there’s so much skin, you gotta remember to put sunscreen there. It’s kind of wondrous, that cartilage. Continue… »
By Janine KovacThe Exciting World of Self Publishing
Writing Mama Dixie James shares the challenges and high points of self publishing her memoir.
Self publishing-What an interesting and exciting process for my daughter, Holly and me.
Having worked on our manuscript for several years, I made a goal to complete our book this year. Our ‘Memoir’ is finished after having chosen 12 friends to be draft readers, who then became our “editors.” Each one’s ideas and changes were carefully read and considered.
I commissioned an expert with computer skills in graphics and color/size resolution to assist with the 75 pictures in the book. A good artist friend helped design our book cover. I hired a professional editor for a final review, after what felt like a hundred revisions. Looking over many publishing companies, I selected several and then picked the one with the highest rating from the Better Business Bureau. Continue… »
By Dixie JamesThe Finer Points of Face Painting
For July 4th I took my preschooler and her friend to Jack London Square for some corn dogs and face painting.
The face-painting booth was manned by about five middle school girls. Paintbrushes, baby wipes and medallions of oily makeup were scattered around the table. In the middle was a box for gratuities.
“What would you like?” one of the tweens asked my daughter Chiara.
“I want a princess,” she answered. It’s an easy face to make― it’s sparkly pink eye shadow, sparkly pink cheeks and sparkly lips. All done!
“I don’t think I can paint a princess on your cheek,” the tween said, clearly not understanding the nuances of face-painting four-year-olds. “How about if I just paint some sparkly pink fireworks?” Continue… »
By Janine KovacWho Are You Today That You Couldn’t Be Yesterday
In freshman gym class, it took me 13 minutes to run a mile. Drenched, red-faced, and doubled over dry heaving, I declared, “I’m not a runner. Not now and never, ever will I be.”
Now I’m 38 years old and have a six-month old son named Jake. I had fiercely kept my vow never to run, but walking I didn’t mind. While pregnant, I waddled the streets of San Francisco every day with my beloved iPod shuffling my emotions. Once Jake arrived, I kept on walking – now navigating a big orange stroller.
While cruising around Stow Lake one day, my phone rang. I exchanged my iPod for my phone to interview a potential nanny. When I hung up half an hour later, I looked for my iPod and my heart began pounding when I realized it was gone. Not just an iPod – but the device that held my lullabies. Continue… »
By Kristin Slye
