winter yard, 2009

Oh hi. Remember blogging? Maybe some of you never stopped. But I stopped. Obviously. And now I'm wondering if I should start back up again. I feel the pull to move away from social media sites and back to my own space. A reclamation and revival of sorts. 

I feel like I've been missing for awhile. Not just from blogging and updating my website and sending newsletters. Missing from my own life. And it's not just because of the weirdness of the past few years: politics, pandemic, etc. It's all of that plus more personal situations: loss, grief, health issues, family issues, deadlines, projects, exhaustion, general malaise and ennui. You know, much of the normal stuff of life that we all deal with in one way or another, all turned up to 11 in recent years.

Looking back through this blog, I realize that my last substantive post was on December 7, 2016, and was titled, appropriately enough, "Moved to Stillness."  I wrote: 

My attention span is shot. I find it hard to read a book -- or even a whole article or essay some days. Writing is no better. I write a few paragraphs and I'm bored, restless, distracted (or willing to be distracted). I need to reclaim my mind. My focus. My sustained attention. 

I've been daydreaming about churches, chapels, cathedrals. I have a complicated history with organized religion, but lately I feel the pull to hushed, holy spaces, the kind with wooden pews, stone floors, vaulted ceilings, and preferably candlelight. I don't want to attend a service. I want the silence. 

The author Pico Iyer wrote, "A chapel is where you can hear something beating beneath your heart." 

What beats beneath one's heart? Blood? Breath? Gravity?

Whatever beats beneath my heart -- this is what I crave. I'm seeking silence, solace. The solitude that is not loneliness. Some sort of solution for the way the world seems to be caving in on itself everywhere I look. I'm seeking a personal solstice. Solstice, from the Latin solstitium, meaning "standing." 

To stand. To be still. There is a stillness that beats below your heart. And beneath it all, some story, some song.

I crave a chapel because I'm heartworn and weary. Because I see no separation between the mundane and the holy. Because the world is so beautiful and so terrible. Aren't we all just seeking divine comfort? If I could sink deep enough into the solstice chapel of my own heart, perhaps I could sustain my attention, find sustenance there, be moved to stillness.

I didn't know then that I'd be moved to such stillness that I'd be silent here for more than four years. That the injustice and weariness of the world would deepen and crack and carve channels in so many of our hearts. That underneath all this silence and stillness would be raging wildfires, deafening floodwaters, howling rioters. 

God help us, it's been a few years, hasn't it? (And truth be told, for so many of our fellow humans, it's been this way for decades and centuries.)

It's been more than four years since I wrote anything meaningful here, more than five since I felt like I tumbled outside of time and lost my way. These past 5+ years have held the worst moments of my life. I've spent a lot of time writing about them privately, and I don't need to catalogue them here. But these same years have also held some of the best experiences of my life. In 2017 I spent a month traveling around Iceland and England, fulfilling a long-held dream. In 2019 I (co)wrote a book published by a major national publisher, an unexpected fulfillment of another long-held dream. In 2018 we added two new furry friends to our family who make us smile every day. And through it all, this little old lady has been my constant companion. (They all bring us so much joy, as does the memory of my best feline family member.)

I googled myself the other day and stumbled upon a post on someone else's blog in which they quoted one of my blog posts from about eight years ago. I read my own words and felt two things simultaneously: 1) I have no memory of writing this; and 2) I like this.

I'd written this blog post, titled "Life Isn't a Calendar,"  in the last few days of of 2012. I concluded with this: 

The calendar days are tidy squares lined up in orderly rows, everything numbered to provide a false sense of linearity. It tricks us into thinking life is this way. Choose a word, set an intention, make a goal. Move forward, declare accomplishment. Make another list and tick it off step-by-step. But life is not a calendar or a list or a ladder you can climb rung-by-rung. Life is the ebb and flow of ocean tides, the sunlight and dappled shadow of forest paths, the contrast of white snow on evergreen boughs. Life is the overcast sky of winter that blurs the line between day and night, and the long June days when golden light seeps well into the night. Life is now. It's the driveway that needs shoveling, the dishes that need washing. It's the candles you light, the books you read, the tea you drink, the people you kiss. It's the lists you make and the ones you forget. One step forward, two steps back, and three to the side for good measure.

In three days I'll turn the page to another year, but I'll know that this is just one way of keeping time. There are other ways to make sense of things, to pay attention to what matters.

She (I) was right: there are many ways to make sense of things, to pay attention to what matters. For me, writing is one of those things. And maybe I'll do some of it here. 

Flash Essays online class (July 1-Aug.4, 2019)

There are just a few seats left in my summer flash essays class. Join me for this five-week online class to learn how to write essays that are short and sweet (or short and hot/salty/sassy, etc.). 

Here's the overview of the class: 

Some experiences beg us to write about them, but we often feel overwhelmed when trying to capture the whole story at once. In this class, we'll explore the art of flash nonfiction and short essays—pieces that tell a complete story in a short space.

Life is made up of moments: big showy ones and small quiet ones—many of them infused with deeper meaning. Sometimes we can easily articulate a moment’s meaning, but often we can only make sense of it peripherally. In a flash essay, the moment and the meaning must be distilled to their purest essence.

Through a series of writing exercises, participants will generate a list of potential essay ideas and identify key details and imagery to help them dig into the heart of those stories. Students will also write several flash pieces of varying lengths.

This 5-week class starts with my popular One-Moment Memoirs curriculum and then expands into other aspects of flash essays. 

Full details and registration are available on Creative Nonfiction's website. Enrollment is $310 and includes the following: 

• Five weeks of lessons, writing exercises, and tons of resources;
• My editorial feedback on three of your essays;
• Peer feedback on up to four of your essays; and
• A live (and recorded) conference call with me and your classmates.

Leave a comment below or email me with any questions. 

If novels are fiction and poems are, well, poetry, then what are memoirs? What about essays, narrative journalism, and so many of the true stories that we love? From books to magazine articles to podcasts, creative nonfiction stories surround us.

This webinar will introduce you to the history of the genre and show you how to use the building blocks of creative nonfiction—including scene, character, dialogue, and reflection—to write your own true stories. No writing experience is necessary. During this session you will:

• LEARN about the history and scope of creative nonfiction;
• DISCOVER the genre through a variety of examples; and
• EXPLORE the building blocks of telling great true stories

This session is designed for writers from all backgrounds. Register online here.

Date: Saturday, June 22, 2019
Time: 1:00 - 2:15pm (EDT)
Cost: $15

Advance registration required. Space is limited.

(Want to attend the event live in Pittsburgh? There is an in-person option available as well.)

Schedule Overview:

Webinar: What is Creative Nonfiction?

The opening presentation will serve as an introduction to creative nonfiction. We'll start by exploring what the terms "creative" and "nonfiction" mean separately -- and what they mean together. You will learn about the history of the genre while exploring a variety of creative nonfiction excerpts to get a sense of the contemporary scope of the genre.

You will also learn about the different layers present in personal writing. We'll look at Vivian Gornick's terms "the situation" (what happened) and "the story" (what it means). Next we'll identify the building blocks of CNF: scene and reflection, applying Lee Gutkid's "yellow test" to an analysis of several passages to understand how scenes (and moments of reflection) work to build a world rich with detail and meaning on the page.

The presentation will end with a Q & A.

If you've ever been curious about how to write your own true stories, this is the seminar for you! If you're located near Pittsburgh, PA, join me on Saturday, January 19, for a 3-hour "crash course" that will introduce you to the genre of creative nonfiction and get you started as a CNF writer. No writing experience is necessary! 

Register by January 7 for just $25.

Crash Course Description: 

If novels are fiction and poems are, well, poetry, then what are memoirs? What about essays, narrative journalism, and so many of the true stories that we love?

From books to magazine articles to podcasts, creative nonfiction stories surround us. This seminar will introduce you to the history of the genre and show you how to use the building blocks of creative nonfiction—including scene, character, dialogue, and reflection—to write your own true stories. No writing experience is necessary.

book included with registrationDuring this workshop you will:

• LEARN about the history and scope of creative nonfiction;
• DISCOVER the genre through a variety of examples;
• EXPLORE the building blocks of telling great true stories;
• START writing using prompts; and
• DISCUSS resources for future learning, reading, and writing.

The workshop is open to writers of all levels. 

Registration includes a copy of True Stories, Well Told, edited by Lee Gutkind and Hattie Fletcher. 

Learn more and register here. 

Some experiences beg us to write about them, but we often feel overwhelmed when trying to capture the whole story at once. In this class, we'll explore the art of flash nonfiction and short essays—pieces that tell a complete story in a short space.

Life is made up of moments: big showy ones and small quiet ones—many of them infused with deeper meaning. Sometimes we can easily articulate a moment’s meaning, but often we can only make sense of it peripherally. In a flash essay, the moment and the meaning must be distilled to their purest essence.

Through a series of writing exercises, participants will generate a list of potential essay ideas and identify key details and imagery to help them dig into the heart of those stories. Students will also write several flash pieces of varying lengths.

This 5-week class starts with my popular One-Moment Memoirs curriculum and then expands into other aspects of flash essays. 

Full details and registration are available on Creative Nonfiction's website. Price: $260 if registered by August 20. (Price is $310 after August 20.) Plus, If you haven't taken one of Creative Nonfiction's online classes before, you can save an additional $50 with the code FIRST50. You can combine this coupon with the early bird pricing, which makes this a great deal. 

I'm excited to be teaching a three-hour pre-conference workshop at HippoCamp: A Conference for Creative Nonfiction Writers on August 24, 2018, in Lancaster, PA. Workshop details and registration are here.

This writing conference is one of the best I've attended. The sessions are interesting and useful, the people are smart and friendly, and the whole vibe is welcoming and inspiring. This will be my third time attending (and teaching at) HippoCamp, and I love it. If you write (or want to write creative nonfiction), I hope you'll check it out. 

About the Workshop: 

How do we write beyond what happened and into the beating heart of a story? How do we create literary art from everyday life while telling the truth — but without becoming smarmy? In this session, we’ll explore craft techniques to enliven your prose, deepen your stories, and create connection with readers.

Topics will include understanding the two essential building blocks of creative nonfiction; using imagery and metaphor to create meaning; and choosing and slanting details to create texture and depth. This session will benefit any writer seeking to move beyond "just the facts" without tipping over into a "sentimental journey."

We'll look at how newer writers often fall into one of two traps: only recording what happened, or only sharing what they thought and felt. But great essays, memoir, and even blog posts combine these two aspects to create art from life. Learning to do this in my own work drastically improved my writing, and I see other writers "level up' all the time when they learn these techniques.

Full workshop and conference details are here. 

Questions about HippoCamp or my workshop? Let me know in the comments below or contact me.

Writing true stories is about more than reporting the facts; it's about creating art from real life. In memoir and personal essays, you want to go beyond what happened and into what it means.

>UPDATE: July 2018 - I'll be teaching a live, 3-hour version of this workshop at HippoCamp: A Conference for Creative Nonfiction Writers, August 24-26, 2018, in Lancaster PA. See this post for details. 

Write Into the Heart of Your Story
March 5 - April 1, 2018
The Writer's Center online classes

 Writing stories from your life is about more than recording a series of events; it's about creating meaning and connection with readers. Whether you're writing personal essays, memoir, or blog posts, how do you write beyond what happened and into the heart of a true story? This course will give participants a treasure trove of techniques to improve their writing, deepen their stories, and connect with readers. Through close reading, writing prompts, and creative exercises, participants will learn how to use the building blocks of writing personal stories, how to create texture and depth in those stories, and how to deal with common challenges that hold us back in our writing.

This 4-week session is part of The Writer's Center online classes. Details and registration ($195) are available here.

Flash Essays 
April 2 - May 2, 2018
Creative Nonfiction online classes

Some experiences beg us to write about them, but we often feel overwhelmed when trying to capture the whole story at once. In this class, we'll explore the art of flash nonfiction and short essays—pieces that tell a complete story in no more than 1000 words. Life is made up of moments: big showy ones and small quiet ones—many of them infused with deeper meaning. Sometimes we can easily articulate a moment’s meaning, but often we can only make sense of it peripherally. In a flash essay, the moment and the meaning must be distilled to their purest essence. Through a series of writing exercises, participants will generate a list of potential essay ideas and identify key details and imagery to help them dig into the heart of those stories. Students will also write up to five flash pieces of varying lengths.

This 5-week class starts with my popular One-Moment Memoirs curriculum and then expands into other aspects of flash essays. Full details and registration are available on Creative Nonfiction's website. Price: $260 if registered by March 12; $310 after March 12.

Exciting news! We're offering a new free membership option in The Word Cellar Writers Guild, the online resource center and community for writers. 

You can sign up right here (no credit card required) and get instant access to resources such as writing prompts, author interviews, interactive podcasts, and community forums where you can connect with other writers. You'll also be able to participate in our virtual Book Club read-along/write-along. (Our current selection is poemcrazy by Susan Goldsmith Wooldridge, and it's such a fun and inspiring book, whether or not you're a poet.) 

I created The Word Cellar Writers Guild for writers who crave more creativity, more community, and a deeper understanding of the craft of writing. My hope is that it feels like your favorite café, bookstore, library, book club, workshop, online class, and writing retreat all wrapped up in a beautiful virtual home where you can learn, share, and be in community with fellow writers. 

We've offered monthly and annual memberships since 2015, and I'm happy to now offer free "guest memberships" so you can see what we're all about. Come on over and join us! 

My attention span is shot. I find it hard to read a book -- or even a whole article or essay some days. Writing is no better. I write a few paragraphs and I'm bored, restless, distracted (or willing to be distracted). I need to reclaim my mind. My focus. My sustained attention. 

I've been daydreaming about churches, chapels, cathedrals. I have a complicated history with organized religion, but lately I feel the pull to hushed, holy spaces, the kind with wooden pews, stone floors, vaulted ceilings, and preferably candlelight. I don't want to attend a service. I want the silence. 

The author Pico Iyer wrote, "A chapel is where you can hear something beating beneath your heart." 

What beats beneath one's heart? Blood? Breath? Gravity?

Whatever beats beneath my heart -- this is what I crave. I'm seeking silence, solace. The solitude that is not loneliness. Some sort of solution for the way the world seems to be caving in on itself everywhere I look. I'm seeking a personal solstice. Solstice, from the Latin solstitium, meaning "standing." 

To stand. To be still. There is a stillness that beats below your heart. And beneath it all, some story, some song.

I crave a chapel because I'm heartworn and weary. Because I see no separation between the mundane and the holy. Because the world is so beautiful and so terrible. Aren't we all just seeking divine comfort? If I could sink deep enough into the solstice chapel of my own heart, perhaps I could sustain my attention, find sustenance there, be moved to stillness.