Write-in

I woke up with a novel idea (no pun intended). I want to host a write-in. What do you think?

I'll have it at Church Street Retrerat, which is Ronnie's and my Victoian home, built in 1875 in Navasota, TX. It's only a 90-minute drive from Houston.

There's roomy spaces in rooms with high ceilings and slow moving fans, a porch looking out on a pecan and elm shaded lawn, a fenced backyard with three rowdy dogs to keep you company but not talk to you, and blocks of small town wonder for solitary meandering with the Muse as company.

Bring your writing tablet or laptop. I'll provide coffee and tea, maybe a little fruit and cheese. We'll write together, but in silence. We will be like children in parallel play--feeding off each other's creative energy, but not interrupting one another's thought process.

In silence but in community.

You see yourself as an artist but not a writer? No worries--bring your sketch book. Or your camera.

In the late afternoon we'll come together, reflect on the experience, and decide if we should do it again.

Sound like a plan?

April is flying by, and soon it will be May, so when? Sundays are preferred but I'm open.

2016 Bucket List

It's the first week of 2016 and I'm filled with excitement. I have a shiny new bucket list:

• Design, develop and deliver courses, workshops and retreats that help people make sense of their lives. 
• Practice what I preach by reflecting on my own life journey, releasing what no longer serves me and unleashing my passions at full throttle. 
• Explore the simplicity and complexity of the craft of writing to find my sweet spot - that creative, blissful place where I can let the words flow. Sometimes effortlessly, sometimes not.
• Reacquaint my body to mindful movement by exploring the residential streets of my small town neighborhood.
• Cook on a daily basis, creating meals that feed my soul and nourish my body.
• Love Ronnie and Matthew with the fullness and tenderness of my heart. 
• Enjoy the company of my women friends, feeling their support and giving them  mine.

I will live 2016 with intention and not be caught up in the mindless, objectifying prejudice flooding our communities. I will take care of my place in the world by turning away from the vicous hate being spewed by toxic tongues and practicing the gentleness of human kindness.

What's on your 2016 bucket list? 

The taming of a cat (and much more!)

Anne Kaier has written a lovely memoir about rescuing a stray cat, bringing him home to her new house, and building a relationship that helps make her house a home for the both of them. She has been on a blog tour with her book, and I invited her to Sunday TOAST so she can share her process with us.

JB: Anne, can you tell us what compelled you to write this delightful book, Home with Henry?

AK: Curiosity played  a large part. I had literally picked up a wounded feral cat after someone had hit him in a busy road. I had no idea what to do with him. After the vet checked him out, I brought him home to live with me. However, he hid under the bed and hissed every time I approached. Who, except for my dear vet, would give me advice about how to tame him? It was 1997. The internet was in its infancy, so I couldn't go online to get help. I kept a journal to record Henry's daily progress--or lack of it--so I would have a record of what happened. I thought it would be interesting to reread in later years. When I stopped keeping the journal, I realized I had a manuscript that people might enjoy reading. When a publisher approached me, I thought a cat memoir would reach a broad audience. Home with Henry is now my publisher's best selling book.

JB: What are the themes you explored in this memoir? Did they emerge organically in writing the draft, or did you purposely choose the themes before you began writing?

AK: Life as a single woman is a major theme. How do you construct a kind of "alternate family" when you are single and, as in my case, have no children? I purposely included my adventures with my friends and my nephew Tommy, a frisky ten-year-old, to show how I have brought people into my life. The human-animal bond, with all its joys, is obviously a major theme. The importance of work friends is also a biggie. I wanted to include scenes set at work because my work friends helped me as I was taming Henry. The city dweller's need for a natural world also figured in the book. Some of these themes appeared in my original journal entries, which became the first draft of the book. Others, such as the emphasis on the natural world, emerged organically in later drafts.

JB: You are a poet, an essayist, and a memoirist. How do you select a genre for a particular subject? In particular, why was Home with Henry told in journal entries rather than a series of essays or a poetry chapbook?

AK: When I wrote journal entries as I was trying to domesticate Henry, I didn't know how the story would end. Would Henry spend his life hiding under the bed? Would he run away? I wanted the reader to have the same feeling of suspense as I did. So I kept it in chronological journal format.

JB: What was hardest or most challenging about writing the book?

AK: One of the hardest things was to weave all the themes together. I wanted to keep the primary focus on the cat, but sub-themes entered the story. I rewrote several times to get a good balance between the cat scenes and the nephew scenes, for example.

JB: One of the reasons people write about their life is to make sense of it. You once said in an interview published in Wordgathering: "When I'm writing about my life, I feel that I can partially define how I am perceived--and perhaps, influence how I see myself." Can you expand on this statement?

AK: As a single woman and a person with a physical difference--I have a skin problem like psoriasis--I can easily be stereotyped. Especially in a cat story. I wanted to be perceived as the fairly complicated, intelligent woman I am. However, this is a pet memoir, so I saw it as lighter in tone than other essays and poems I've written. I worked to bring the nuance and humor into my self-portrait. 

JB: An editor once told me that you have to give up a piece of yourself for a story to be more than a nice, or funny, or sad, or horrific memory turned into a story. Do you think it takes courage to write from one's life? What parts of yourself did you give to the reader in Home with Henry?

AK: Your editor had a great insight. It does take courage to write an honest memoir. It's always hard to reveal your vulnerabilities. I wanted to be honest about my life as a single woman. I also wanted to celebrate the choices I've made. And I wanted to celebate Henry himself. That was the easy part--to write about his quirky ways and his innate sweetness.

JB: Thank you, Anne. Now... for my loyal readers, you can purchase Home with Henry: a memoir by Anne Kaier online at www.barnesandnoble.com or at www.amazon.com. It is a book you will want to share with your friends and your children, for it is a classic in the making.

And, if you are inspired to write your own cat story, Anne has authored "Tall Tails: How to Write about Your Cat." It's free and available on her website: www.annekaier.com/.
  

Struggle

I've been struggling lately.

Struggling with revising a novel. Struggling with building an online class. Struggling with being a better person.

Where has all this gotten me? To be honest, it's gotten me very tired. But yesterday I learned an important lesson from a very gifted teacher.

Charlotte Gullick is an author and creative writing teacher in Austin, TX, and I spent the day with her--along with 20 other writers who've been struggling with their revision process. Charlotte broke down the process for us and then she gave us time to play with different perspectives, suggestions, and strategies.

Aha! In six hours I discovered the process for unraveling the twisted parts of my manuscript and filling in where it is threadbare. But that's not all. I also discovered I could apply what I learned about revising to my creating an online course that is engaging and my developing into the woman I long to be.

The Aha moment came with the way Charlotte had us break down the process into one specific element at a time. Instead of attacking the mammoth manuscript all at once, she advised us to rate each craft element (plot, point of view, verb choices, etc.). Each revision draft focuses on one craft element only, so the writer can concentrate on what needs her attention.

I can do that with my manuscript now, and I am so excited and so ready.

Over the last six weeks, I have built an online class for English 1301 that, now that it is finished, I absolutely "hate" what I've done. There is no pacing, no rhythm, no enjoyment. But I have hope. I'm going to revise the course, one element at a time, and make it sizzle. I believe I can do that now, thanks to Charlotte's class.

Lately, I have been hard to get along with. My sweetie says I've lost my sense of humor--that I take everything wrong, that I'm so fast to pick a fight. As I think about Charlotte' class yesterday, I recall the title for her course was "Honing the Spark," because she thinks it is crucial for us to remember and embrace the spark that first led us to undertake a full-fledged novel. That spark is what sustains us as we revise and move from good to better to great. I think remembering the spark is important for relationships as well.

Ronnie felt an instant spark, he says, when he first met me. He says it was my smile that grabbed his heart that day almost four years ago when I walked in the restaurant. For me, the spark came later and took awhile to ignite. I'd been badly burned before and not so quick to be dazzled. But he is the love of my life, and I want to be the woman he deserves. So today, I will focus on the spark and let go of my petty-mindedness that leads only to regret. And tomorrow I will focus on another element of my love for him so I become more of the woman I want to be.

Thank you, Charlotte, for a map for revising my manuscript, and the other important things in my life!

Writing in Alpine

I spent last week in Alpine at a summer writing retreat, sponsored by the Writers League of Texas. Writers swooped down on the tiny town from all corners of Texas and parts of Louisiana and Oklahoma. They were writers of fiction, non-fiction, memoir, and poetry, and like me, they came to explore their craft--with each other and with the pros who make up the WLT faculty.

This is my third year at the retreat. My sweeties comes with me every year and hangs out while I'm in class. At night we go out and do fun things... for me anyway.

The first evening we gathered at a writing instructor's rented casita and watched the sky turn orange, red, purple, deepening to navy as the sun sunk behind the Davis Mountains while a version of King Ranch casserole cooked in the oven. We listened to the night birds, watched billy goats across the road, slapped at biting mosquitoes, and talked about the juicy alchemy of Alpine on the writer's soul.

The second evening a panel, comprised of the WLT faculty, fed our curiosity with details about their successful writer lives. Although these journalists, authors, and poets seemed to have fallen into their writing careers by accident or the intercession of a benevolent Fate, Joseph Campbell would be proud of their heroic quest to become noteworthy. We listened, infatuated by their stories, and yearned for our own benevolent Fate to favor us with the Holy Grail, a publishing contract.

The third evening three of us drove to nearby Marfa and sat on the patio of the Hotel Paisano where Rock Hudson, Elizabeth Taylor, James Dean, Natalie Wood and other cast members stayed while filming the movie Giant. We watched other tourists and a couple of ranchers and their families enjoy the cool desert evening and a fine meal. We had the restaurant's signature entrée: pistachio crusted fried steak, garlic mashed potatoes, and fresh string beans. If you want to know how to charge $16 for a chicken fried steak, I just told you. Alas, even though it was past eight o'clock when we headed back home, it was too early to see the Marfa lights.

The fourth evening we met up with 2008 Texas Poet Laureate Larry Thomas and his wife Lisa in the Holland Hotel bar. My sweetie and several writer friends are partial to the margaritas there. Larry, an Alpine resident transplanted from Houston, pumped us for city news while we envied his and Lisa's languid life in the Big Sky Country. Afterwards we went to the public library to hear fellow workshop participants read their work. Yes, I was the designated driver, and happy to be of service.

The fifth night we fretted over our approaching departure. This annual summer retreat is grueling work, but I am so viscerally affected, being among this tribe of writers who migrate to the desert every August, that I feel a deep sadness when it is time to leave.

When the well is dry

I love the clatter of the keyboard against the pads of my fingertips that sounds like rain on a tin roof. When I'm in the flow, the story gushes forth, like a torrential waterfall from a crevice in my imagination, pouring out almost effortlessly. I'm high on creative adrenaline.

But it isn't always that way. There are times when I begin to question myself, my artistic talent, my wordplay. That's when writing is hard. And the more I question myself as a writer, the more I allow doubt to rise in my chest and cripple my fingers. Everything I write sounds silted, forced, tired, and shallow. Fear opens wounds of unworthiness. Darkness gathers, and I feel I am a fraud.

In the old days, that is to say, in the days of my youth, when these feelings came over me, I'd shut down and sink into an abyss of depression. Now, however, I know these feelings aren't an indictment of my being an interloper. Instead, they are an indication that the well is dry.

The reality is, creativity needs nourishment just as the body needs food. When the well is dry, I need to take care of myself, nurture my creativity, let it drink from other streams of life.

Poetry feeds me. The way poets can turn a phrase helps unlock my mind to new possibilities. I delight in another's palate. Tasting, savoring Rumi, Emily Dickinson, Walt Whitman, Langston Hughes, the Psalmists.

Nature satisfies me. Summer is approaching and seeds have burst, forming into tomato plants, yellow squash, peaches, watermelon. A mother dove made a nest in the eaves of the roof over our back porch. I've watched the babies hatch and grow until they could fly on their own and leave the nest for the trees in the backyard. Along with the red birds, the mockingbirds, and martens, they greet me with song in the mornings. The squirrel, who lives among the pecan trees, shares with the birds the grain in a bowl that my sweetie fills every day. The birds sneak water from the dogs' bowls when they're dozing in the shade or chasing the neighbor's cats.

I am packing for a week-long retreat in Comfort, TX, to steep myself in the philosophy of the Quakers, as shared by Parker Palmer, and open my writer's soul to renewal and wholeness. As Palmer writes: "It's time to slow down, do more with less, and listen to the rhythm."

My well is being filled.


What do you do when the well is dry?

Writing true

I'm reading Elizabeth Berg's book Escaping into the Open: The Art of Writing True. (A book worthy of your bookshelf!) She encourages writers like me to be authentic and honest in our writing.

Writing true requires a writer to go deep beneath the surface feelings to the emotional core. It means using the senses to describe the details of the narrative, for it's in the details that our stories engage the reader and bring her into our minds so that she can see how we think, so she can get under our skin and feel what we feel, so she can touch our exposed vulnerability and become that vulnerability, if just for the time it takes to read our story.

To paraphrase another author, Red Smith, we only have to sit at the keyboard and open a vein.

Why would any writer want to do that? The answer is simple.  Writers like Elizabeth Berg, like Red Smith, like memoirists and storytellers like me--we are driven to write because we want to share in the collective human experience. By writing true, we yield pieces of ourselves in the pieces we write, and we connect with people we may never meet in the most profound and intimate way.

Not a bad deal, if you ask me.