New Essay Published at Literary Kitchen

Published at Literary Kitchen on 12/19/19

On the Verge

THINGS TO DO WHILE WAITING

FOR LIDIA YUKNAVITCH’S NEW SHORT STORY COLLECTION

A new essay by Dot Hearn

I sit on the convertible futon in its couch position, feet up on the hand carved teak wood box which doubles as a coffee table and storage space for the things which would otherwise clutter up the living room. I’ve already retrieved the binoculars from the box and they sit beside me in anticipation. My cup of sweet Earl Gray tea is within reach.

The ocean is dark blue today, no serious waves until the water .....

Click on through to read the full braided essay, "On the Verge."

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A Ripple in the Wave : Why I Didn't

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"how do we endure this (over and over again again again again)? we take turns until there are so many of us the wave cannot be stopped." - Lidia Yuknavitch

I am a part of the wave. I am treading water to keep afloat; and I will. I'm very good at the dog paddle, even if it means it takes me longer to arrive.

#WhyIDidntReport
   by Dot Hearn

[in no particular order]

{an incomplete list}

My skirt was above my knees.

It was almost dark.

He was my best friend's friend.

My mother said about girls in too tight clothes, "she was asking for it."

My father said when a woman was attacked at a bar, "she knew better than to go to that place."

My teachers said in the 5th grade girls secret class about periods and sex and appropriate behavior, "girls must keep their legs crossed."

He said he couldn't live without me and they would separate us if they knew.

He was going to be my husband.

He was my husband.

I thought he was cute so it was my fault.

I didn't want to wake the other people sleeping in the tent.

I didn't want to hurt his feelings because he said he loved me.

I was drunk.

He was drunk.

My mother was always suspicious of men, yet always blamed the women when something actually happened.

My mother didn't believe me when I cut my thumb on a razor and it was bleeding.

My mother didn't believe me when I rammed into the back of a parked car on a borrowed boys' bike and told her I was bleeding in my underwear.

He didn't actually get me into the car, though he tried; I should have ignored his question.

My parents would say I shouldn't have taken the shortcut through the trees from the low-rent apartments to the pizza parlor.

"I tried to warn you but you wouldn't listen," my mother would have said, and added, "Are you sure?"

Because I left my body and my mind locked away the details before someone found me tied to the tree in the middle of the elementary school track.

*

Writing Murmuration

I am in a sweet spot of writing. I get to be in workshops/classes with the writing mammals who give me breath and space and hold each other close and tell truths.

I just completed a twelve-week online manuscript writing workshop with Ariel Gore in The Literary Kitchen. This was my second time in that class and I am solid in my book now; moving it forward. I can feel in my body that this project is right and it will get done.

Then, just to make sure I keep on with the edits, I signed up for Camp NaNoWriMo. There are many differences between November NaNoWriMo and Camp NaNoWriMo (there is one in April and one in July), but one of the big ones is that in Camp, you set your own goal. This is only my second time in Camp N and this time I set my goal to editing 90 pages in the 30 days. I know that doesn't sound like much, but I am working with the printed manuscript and editing by hand. If I find the editing and rewriting goes faster, I can increase my goal.

Sunday started an online Short Story writing workshop/class with Ariel in the Literary Kitchen. It kicked off on Friday with signing up for the boards and a pre-assignment. This one is three weeks and I am already loving it.

Then, this recent weekend I spent Friday night through Sunday late afternoon at the Corporeal Writing Center with an in-person Spring Seasonal Revision workshop with Lidia Yuknavitch and Domi Shoemaker and is was also magic. I need the balance of online and in person - and I need to have time in person with my Corporeal Writing tribe. And the Lidia & Domi infusion.

I am swimming in the words of the writers I get to share time with online and in person. I feel sated and wanting more simultaneously and my writing is flowing for it.

Last night I watched a video of a starlings murmuration and I was mesmerized. I was not able to find the exact video to share, but this one is close. The murmuration looks like how I felt this weekend. the gathering, forming, reforming. spreading out and coming back together; in sync and yet many individuals of the whole. Rise and fall and dropping back quietly, efficiently, whole, into a place of rest before returning to the next part of the journey.

Swimming in Words

I'm still writing. Still in the online manuscript class with Ariel Gore and it is fantastic and progress is being made. I have had some major insights and rewrites and this project is getting done!

photo by Domi Shoemaker

I'm preparing to interpret some theatre. Which is awesome. The first is an incredible, new, vibrant musical of "Scarlet" - The Scarlet Letter from Hester's perspective.

The last two weekends I interpreted poetry competitions (high school student reciting published works of Poets from across the ages). That is always an inspirational and exciting event. And our amount of preparation is huge - but I love it.

And I'm writing. At the end of this month I have a Corporeal Writing workshop and boy, do I need that infusion, too. I've haven't been in a workshop with Lidia Yuknavitch since last summer and I am looking forward to this one (it's one of the seasonal series). I did have a workshop with Brigid Yuknavitch last fall and that was so, so good.

And. That's what I'm doing. Interpreting, writing, theater. I have written the bones of a couple of essays, but there is much to go before those are done. But it's a start so that I won't lose those thoughts.

And I'm wondering what to do with this blog. I'd like to revise it, but right now, I have plenty to do and not the same amount time. It's all good and the balance will come.

Right? Right.

Revision Is Hard (for me)

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I am in a 12-week manuscript class and we just passed the halfway mark.

It is an amazing experience with Ariel Gore at the helm, and a group of skilled writers with so many good stories to tell. There are writing exercises, prompts, feedback, reading other authors' words, resources Q&As, and more.

It is very helpful and my project is moving forward.

Moving forward and away from me and I chase it and I catch up and more comes along and I see many possibilities. Building that onto the revelations and experience at Writing by Writers Methow Valley retreat/workshop in May, which built onto Corporeal Writing workshops with Lidia Yuknavitch and Domi, which built on earlier workshops with Ariel in the Literary Kitchen.

Possibilities for strengthening my writing, making words clearer and the stories pop and sizzle and feel right.

And, still, I am not daunted by the new material. I am excited to work in lost or forgotten details. To take a couple of found threads of my stories to weave them together. To work with memory and storytelling and, well, you'll have to wait and see. I am excited to make changes.

Once in a while that little critical voice comes along which whispers (or yells, although its voice is losing power) that I can't/shouldn't/won't/don't dare write this thing into completion. It brings up doubts and fears and old confusion of responsibility and truth and wonder and forgetting.

The forgetting is the harder part. Forgetting is easy and it used to be that forgetting happened without notice, without any signal, and celebration or achievement slipped away, too. Not just the hard stuff but the good stuff, too. It all slipped away between a blink and a breath, shut in a room far away out of sight out of thought. Never happened in the consciousness.

But it did. But it didn't.

Now things don't slip away so easily. Now that critical voice is quieter and sometimes it gets lost in the successes and the stories and its stories have lost a lot of their power. It's good.

It's not easy. And when I go through these stories I've written and am writing. When I relive them and remember and the sensations run through me, through my corporeal being, the trick is to let them pass through and not get stuck.

But doubt doesn't go away that easily. It may never be totally gone for me. The goal is to quiet the doubt and the confusion, and let confidence and skillful means take the lead, the louder voice.

While I work on the stories of times when confidence and skillful means meant basic survival.

Revising the stories for flow and word choice and pacing and clarity. Revising heartbeats and breath, movement and stagnation, making room for readers. And me.

It may be hard, but I'm on it.

And I'm doubling down on the meatloaf and mashed potatoes. If you haven't read any of these stories, there is a ton of context missing. Just trust me - meat and mashed potatoes are in the revision.

This really was in my fortune cookie tonight!

I'm Excited to Jump into Editing

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Five days : writing and writers, in the middle of nature as far as your eye can see, fed and caffeinated and watered, extraordinary faculty.

With particular thanks to Pam Houston for starting Writing by Writers (and for making one of the sites at Methow Valley)

Huge thank yous to Lidia Yuknavitch for being, and for being present with our group of 12 and helping us find ways to make our work stronger, for your support. And thank you to my workshop writing partners, Sheila, Kristin, Chelsea, Taylor, Arielle, Ellie, Rochelle, Bridget, Marcie, Cindy, Chanel.

I know it was an especially good writing workshop when I come home excited to jump into revisions and rewrites, which includes not only the editing I knew I had to do, but two more threads/themes I need to go back and incorporate throughout the project and some questions I have to answer.

Next up isr Ariel Gore's Summer Manuscript online class, which begins in three weeks. Currently printing the full manuscript to begin final prep for that. So, more editing!

If you know me in my writing life, you know that "I'm excited to edit" is not usually in my vocabulary. Which is how i know this is the real deal - that the gems from Writing by Writers are true and that the timing for Ariel's manuscript workshop are spot on.
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Writing, Not So Solitary a Task

I'm at the Writing by Writers Methow Valley workshop again this year. The drive up was gorgeous. The lodge is expansive and feels like a great place to meet to workshop writing, the beds are heavenly, the location far from city lights & traffic & incidental noise & distraction; good food, friendly staff; the faculty and participants are delightful.

And I was sitting here on a free-time break, in my room, on my laptop (my roommate is out hiking; some people are writing; some are in the hot tub or doing other activities). And thinking.

Last night I skipped the Cowboy Dinner, which also meant missing the founder's reading. But I skipped last night's event because I was writing. During the day yesterday I knew I was going to stay and write, because I felt inspiration in me, waiting for me to sit down and listen. I didn't know exactly what it was but something was there.

And I was right. I wrote a small but very major piece of the story. A piece I've struggled with since stories morphed and became The Writing Project. And I also am 100% sure it is right because the other thing that happened is that this new -- okay, I'll say it -- new ending not only feels right, but there are other signals that it is the right thing to do. Because this new ending of this book means there are some things I have to go back and change, or back and add, through the entire project. And I am completely fine with that. This is what needs to happen and it feels right and I'm looking forward to my next tasks. Which are huge. And I do mean gigantic huge pieces of writing work. Wow.

Yesterday, the second full day of workshops and events, my creativity said "hello, oh it's you, yes, I know, but I've been waiting for you and now you're ready, so let's go." Yes, I get small bits here and there. But this is the real deal.

I don't know how it will balance out. Still or again and that question doesn't entirely matter right now.

This was another moment of noticing how having time held for the sole purpose of writing and writing related conversation/inspiration/sharing/exploration generated - surprise - writing.

And sitting here on my bed with my laptop, I was thinking about the last three mornings of workshopping other writers' pieces. Discussing creation and craft and opening and what's working and ideas for going deeper and richer and signature moves.

And that, even though I was alone in the room last night when I was writing. Even though I am often alone when I am writing, for me, at least, writing really is not a solitary task. And even the Tuesday times when I meet with another writer for two hours and we write, my writing is mine and hers is hers and we are together but doing the parallel task of writing independently. And I think - not for the first time - that writing is not a solitary task.

Not really. Or not always. There are solitary elements and times where we probably need to be alone to do what we're doing.

But writing, I don't think, is solitary. It can be at times. But it isn't really.

I'm sure someone can give me some names of writers who have done it without anyone else.

But these days here I see, again, how we need each other, too. How our writing can be strengthened by having other eyes and ears on our words. How other perspectives can help us see our work in new ways. And, as Lidia says, they can help us find our "signature moves." Which we don't always see because we are too close to the words or other reasons.

So the words are individual, yes; the stories come from our bodies. But we benefit from exposure and time with other writing beings, other creatives.

The myth of the lonely writer is another traditional trope I think we can let go of, too. Writing in community has many benefits.

Rearranging Letters to Make Words

So much happening - in my local world of words and theater. In this country with the - no, I'm trying to keep politics out of here, which is one reason why words have shown up here less frequently, I believe. 

I do not mean that personal and political are unrelated. Or that writing about the political situation and the crisis we are in are separate.

But I have been overwhelmed with many things that are happening. Overwhelmed and yet I call and/or send emails and/or send postcards and/or do the online forms with or without personalization other than my name. 

Facebook has become a daily near-ritual, which I vowed it would never be. But politics and having people I know in the 3-D world I trust and respect who are helping keep me informed. Finding links to research. Reaching out and being there for others. It is all important.

Here, writing, that side of me which creates because I can't not create. Who writes because there's a drive and words to say. The me here, "inside voice" is what burbles to the top of word lists right now. I don't have to shout about it, I can just be the quiet me, the reflective me, the going inward and bringing up stories and words and putting them together into something to share. Or not.

Not separate. 

But right now vulnerable. Not just because of politics. Because of writing. Because of my writing. And I keep going, will keep doing it. Will get it done.

Vulnerable. Yes. And sometimes that is hard to put down.

I just did.

I'm still here.

Next week I will be going to the Writing by Writers workshop/conference at Methow Valley and I'm excited. I will be in the Lidia Yuknavitch group again this year. What I submitted this year is not as strong as what I sent last year, which is okay, it's a workshop and there will be feedback, which can only help make the two chapters stronger. I am also working on revising a piece to submit; I haven't found the deadline yet, so I hope I don't miss it. I am also doing a different sort of daily writing, which is hard to get myself to do and I have, for six consecutive days; yay, me! 

And I've been writing a lot of correspondence related to a major section of my work - performance interpreting. There are some conversations happening related to some potentially exciting performance events, which I can't say right now and I'm sorry for being vague. I will be posting more over at Performing Arts Interpreting Alliance (PAIA) about three interpreted shows which have just been added ("Sordid Lives" as part of the OUTwright Festival on June 10; two short Kabuki plays being performed in English at PSU on May 30; "The Tempest, a Magical Steampunk Adventure" at Experience Theatre on July 2). 

Oh - and back to writing: I signed up for Ariel Gore's Summer Manuscript Workshop. Twelve weeks devoted to working on/finishing a book project. Yes, I did it. I signed up. I had secretly set a date to complete the revision of the manuscript in mid-October. When I saw a reminder about Ariel's workshop and I checked my calendar, the timing was almost perfect so, I took the leap. I am excited about that and. Wow!

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NaNoWriMo Day 25: keeping on

I am still trying to write to 60k before the end of November, since I passed the 50k mark so early.

I think I will actually get there. My writing has slowed, but that seems to make sense. Since we went out of town yesterday to spend it with our complicated and extended family. It was a good day, There was about one third or one half of the whole bunch there, I'd guess. Hard to track the numbers. It was a good day. The drive down, which is normally 90 minutes or a little less, was two and a half hours. There was a lot of traffic, more than anticipated and planned for, and it was raining heavily with standing water on some parts of the freeway.

So yesterday I wrote a very short bit after we got home. But I had to go to bed early (for me) for and early (for me) job out of town.

But circumstances happened and I ended up with some extra time today. Part of that bonus time was spent meeting one of S's _?_ cousin first removed? or something. I'm not good at mapping extended cousins and relatives in that way. But he and his wife came down from Seattle to visit family here in Portland, and had planned to come by here first to go out for lunch with S; and since I was home, I was able to join them, with my phone on because I was on call if the job site needed me to go back.

I enjoyed meeting them and we had great conversation. And agreed to get together, again. More like-minded people in my life is good. And they are planning to move to Maui in a  year or so, which means, boo hoo, that we might *have* to travel to Hawaii to visit them. I've never been there and it hasn't been on my list of places I had to see. But having friends there might make it more appealing.

Back to my writing. I have been able to get some writing on the project done today. I am taking a short break to check in here then will try to get more in before going to bed.
 Right now I am nearing 56k. Another confessed hope I will make public and maybe it will help me get it done: I hope to wrap this up before I go to rehearsal tomorrow night. Meaning that I hope to get another approximately 4400 words written before 5:00 tomorrow.

We'll see. If I can avoid checking in on my people in Facebook for a little while, that will help.

And I'm excited: I signed up for two online writing workshops in January. One is a class I've been wanting to do since it first appeared and now, due to the cancellation of another workshop, I'm able to take it - writing the personal essay; this version of it will be an intensive (every day for 12 days or so, rather than over several weeks). Ariel is also offering another online intensive workshop in writing Noir and Dystopian writing ("Fatalist Fiction" - love that name) I signed up for. These are not genres I have been writing, but I have wanted to explore them, so the timing is perfect and it looks really good.

Once again, doing NaNoWriMo has put writing and creating back at the top of my list - or at least parallel with the income producing work I do.  NaNoWriMo, along with the Corporeal Writing face to face workshops and the online Literary Kitchen workshops is keeping me writing, keeping me exploring, providing inspiration, place, and time for writing. And validation and support.

Look at me! I'm still writing. *grin*

Summer Heat Eros or What I Did Today

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EROS            THANATOS

survival           survival
instinct            instinct
physical          physical
love                anger
life                 death
creativity        violence
sexuality/
   passion         aggression
preservation    destruction
self
 -satisfaction   sadism

    NOT SO DIFFERENT
   each inside the other
   

{creation<>destruction}

Sometimes to create, do we not have to destroy? To destroy what has been placed over our Self and our Desire and what constricts us. And don't we, in our creative process, destroy something - make something different than it was before. And in destruction aren't we also creating something new, because taking something away leaves space and time for something new, a replacement, a creative opportunity.

Audre Lorde: "Erotic moves us toward personal and political change." and "Our erotic power becomes a lens to see the world."

Re-examining what "eros" means. Places where its power might exist and the knowledge. How we suppress the expression of "eros" and what if we didn't?

Lidia Yuknavitch: "Eros as activism."

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Corporeal Writing Summer Session

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heat words eros, breaking through timidity, first time second time many times returning to self to the body, speaking from the body breaking down personal limitations, being present in our messedupness not alone sharing space sharing wine whiskey beer soda water sharing breath and air and stories. standing swimming floating in pools of water cold hot. we. are. here. because words. 
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On the Cusp of August

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Where am I? Who am I?

Oh, me. Hello, again. Yes. Things have been busy. Good busy, but busy is busy. You know?

Yes, I know.

Hey - you know the coolest thing that happened to me today?

No, What?

The workshop I'm attending next week? They sent "this is the final email before the workshop ... important information ..." all relevant and all good. But. The coolest thing? They made a mix tape to listen to on the way to the workshop! How super awesome is that? I sampled a couple of the songs but am saving the full Listen for the drive next Friday.

Super cool.

Yeah. It is. They are. Super cool. Like that. Words and revolution. With its own mix tape.

August. The place to be.

Good night.

G'night.

*

workshop photos

More Corporeal Writing photos from the spring "Reinventing Revision" workshop with Lidia Yuknavitch and bunch of other wonderful beings. (photos by Domi J Shoemaker)

Corporeal Writing - Spring - Reinventing Revision

At this moment I cannot tell you why this workshop was so important.

Except that it was. It was face2face. Other writers breathing the same air, reading the same words, sharing, going into it together, speaking truths and insights and micro stories within the larger stories.

Words. My words their words our words.

Trust.

Exploration.

Explosion. Budding. Building.

More for which words have left me.

Working through the vision and re-vision and the revision of re-vision.

Facing ourselves and each other through writing.

Finding gems and tossing some out and getting to the pieces within, where the real stories lie.

And more. But now, sleep.

This starts .... not quite now ... soon

the face2face Corporeal Writing spring adventure begins in

well

not too long

first i have to get there -- i will

leaving soon

Writing

Revising

Going deeper and wider and, perhaps, in a new direction

or two or three or

diving

without a net

into the waters of stories within stories within

with trust

and excitement

NaPoWriMo Prompt Poses a Challenge

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I won't get to writing my poem today until later, since I'm waiting at the CoLab in Port Townsend waiting for the writing workshop to begin. Today I get to write with Lidia Yuknavitch; tomorrow it will be with Pam Houston. You will be able to read the poem over at The Writing Vein Playground.

But, courtesy of NaPoWriMo, here is a prompt for today's daily poem.

Today’s prompt is a little complicated, which is why I saved it for a Saturday, in the hopes that you might have a little more time today than during a weekday. I think this is a very rewarding form, though, so I hope you’ll enjoy it! Today I challenge you to write a “golden shovel.” This form was invented by Terrance Hayes in his poem, The Golden Shovel. The last word of each line of Hayes’ poem is a word from Gwendolyn Brooks’ poem We Real Cool. You can read Brooks’ poem by reading the last word of each line of Hayes’ poem! (In fact, you can do so twice, because Hayes, being ultra-ambitious, wrote a two-part golden shovel, repeating Brooks’ poem). Now, the golden shovel is a tricky form, but you can help keep it manageable by picking a short poem to shovel-ize. And there’s no need to double-up the poem you pick, like Hayes did.

She goes on to give a few examples on the webpage, so make sure to hop over there to take a look.

First Thoughts are Not Always the Best

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Being a writer means showing up even when it seems like the dumbest, most stupidest, biggest waste of time you could do with your precious, irreplaceable time. That was not my first thought this morning.

My first thought was, well, less kind and pulled me into a downward spiral from which I would only be able to drag myself out with the whip of "get your ass to work." I did my morning heart practice, but I still was being nagged from within about the worthlessness of the Tuesday morning writing time. 

First thought, supposedly the best thought. Sometimes, but not always. The list of advice about first thoughts ran through my head:

Follow your instincts.

Your first gut reaction is probably the best measure of ____________. (fill in the blank)

Ask yourself the question and then listen, paying close attention to your body's response - the first one.

Etcetera.

I believe in these approaches to life's big questions, small questions, curiosities. I often do try to at least notice that first impulse. Often there is a lot of energy around the first response. Many times that first reaction sneaks out past the internal editor/critic/naysayer. Often - but not always.

I finished up the protocol, changed to my exercise clothes and headed downstairs to do my Wii routine, the only thing I had time left to do - other than the series of 10 minute parking lot and hall walks on breaks at work. I passed my Blackberry and, of course, had to check messages before I went downstairs.

My writing partner had a migraine and was unable to make it today. 

First Thought (after 'stupid migraine, not fair') - "I can skip it, too." 

Second Thought - "You don't get out of it that easy."

See? First Thought was not entirely the best thought.

So I did my Wii routine and a little bit more to bring it to my minimum. And as I was getting into

the shower I realized that the grumpy, Lowly Worm, "woe is me," attitude might also be the very beginning edge of the cold that's going around - rather than a true fact or the edge of descent into depression.

Last weekend I went to Port Townsend for another amazing weekend intensive with Lidia Yuknavitch and fifteen other women writers. It was inspiring and I wrote a lot - including a piece that a couple of months ago I told Daphne Gottlieb in an online poetry class I couldn't write. A piece that is very personal and very raw and current - about taking on the voice of the "other" in this intense situation. I thought I couldn't because the pain of the situation is now, not the past, because of the content I wasn't ready to do it. But Lidia pushed us all to points of "not I can't go there look I just did!" And I shared the space with these wonderful people, a couple of whom had just gotten or were getting over the sickness going around and a couple in the midst of (they thought they were done with it, but it did a boomerang maneuver). 

So in that moment after I did my heart practice and my exercise and went through the nearly not showing up, as I stood in the hot water washing all of that down the drain, I realized that my body, perhaps, was starting its battle against the sick. I'd also had a little exposure from work last week, though it wasn't shared in such a small space for so many hours; perhaps the seed had already been planted.

For me, the mumble grumble worthless mumble why mumble oh life sucks grumble can be the very first sign that I'm in the "getting sick" zone. This felt like one of those times.

After I got out of the shower I wrapped up in a towel and went to my bag where I keep a vial of Oscilloccocinum and I put ten pellets under my tongue and returned to getting ready to go write. For me, Oscilloccocinum works wonders if I catch it at the very, very beginning; hopefully, I did. 

Here I am. At our writing place. Alone. Writing. I started by reading the rest of my feedback on the excerpt I'd taken to the writing workshop. And as I was ready to start writing, I decided to write this post. Which started with one idea and became this one.

Again, proving, that sometimes the First Thought isn't the best. It doesn't make them wrong - but they're not always right.

In my case, today, the first thought that me writing is dumb and pointless and no good was not the right thought. Perhaps I just needed to interpret the message to find it's true meaning. Because I feel better emotionally right now and I hope the Oscilloccocinum is doing its part to keep the sick away.

Now, back to my story writing.

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Writing Practice

*

I still have two weekly writing appointments in my schedule. It feels great.

I have been vacillating between "a writer should write every day" and "a writer doesn't have to write every day." Well, if I'm being honest, I also throw in a couple of other gems and time and priorities and money and and and.

Where is the "truth" and is there one approach for all writers? No, of course not. Are there some things which are a good idea if one wants to be a writer? Yes, of course.

Are there rules? Yes. Can the rules be broken? Yes. Should the rules be broken? Yes! Absolutely. But wouldn't it be a good idea to follow some of the rules? Probably.

Internal dialogue put on the screen-page. I'm sure there are writers who say they don't have these internal struggles; some of them will be telling the truth and some will be lying. That's okay. My bet is that most writers go through these thoughts - at varying degrees with varying answers.


I've been spending some time thinking about writing. Writing as creating a product and then writing as a practice.

It started with an excerpt from an article about interpreting. The quote I pulled from the article is:

"It takes more than having two hands to be a good pianist.
It takes more than knowing two languages to be a good translator or interpreter."

Those Incredible Interpreters

Interpreting is one of the most difficult linguistic skills

by Francois Grosjean, Ph.D.

I used to play the piano. And the violin. I also taught myself cello and viola and guitar. It took practice. Being on the swim team took practice. And the dance team, way back when, when I did those things. More recently on the dragonboat team; we practiced, a lot. We practiced not just paddling and tilling, but strengthening and stretching and walking and various parts of paddling and tilling and capturing the flag. When I participated in a half marathon, that was a lot of practice.

So why do I feel that every time I sit down to write I have to "produce" something? That statement is only a slight exaggeration, because sometimes, like when I'm in a workshop or an online class, I get to do quick writes and free writes and that's okay. But often, when I sit down to write, I feel like it has to be something big or important or meaningful.

What about practice?

Don't writers need practice, too?

I think they, do!

And funny thing, when I met with my Tuesday writing partner this week, she'd been having similar thoughts. She had posted something earlier in the week on Facebook about just this topic, which I'd missed because I haven't spent much time in there recently. She posted about something I'm very excited about but will wait to say more until, well, later. I almost didn't go to our meetup this week, since I had an appointment beforehand which made me late. I'm glad I kept the date in so many ways and this is one of them; we talked about writing practice. Like athletes and musicians and dancers have practice.

A second benefit of the Tuesday is that I successfully edited a piece for the writing workshop this weekend. This is another thing I sometimes hate to admit - that, sometimes, I do better with my writing when I have a target with a deadline. This was one of those times. I had a chapter scene which was around 1650 words. We are supposed to take an excerpt for the workshop this weekend which is a maximum of 600 words. Oh no! But I did it. I cut out the build up, a little backstory, some extraneous details to the point of the piece and I got it down to 586 words. Whew. I wanted something which was cohesive on its own, even though there are missing pieces; I feel I did that. And it was a great exercise in getting to the heart of the scene.

Tomorrow I head back up to Port Townsend for another Lidia Yuknavitch workshop at The Writers' Workshoppe. I'm looking forward to getting feedback on this piece, doing more writing, going deeper in this process. The weather looks good : meaning no freezing wetness on the roads up and back. A weekend away and centered on writing.
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Writing Sample from the Dorothy Allison Workshop

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Not.

We did write first thing in the morning with Dorothy Allison. Yep, we did. But I'm not going to put that piece of writing out there into the world. At least not now, not as written. I don't want to.

What did we write about in the morning? Masturbation. Yes, that's right. In a room with sixteen other writers we wrote about the first time. Then we read them out loud.

Perhaps that gives you an idea of the kind of day it was with Dorothy. Though not really. It gives you a sense that you know but if you've never been in a workshop with her, then you don't know. If you've read her books you might have a sense of the style of conversation, the open discussion about writing, the feedback, her style of telling you how it is from her perspective and experience. And you'd be correct.

Open.

That's what today was. Sharing our writing, giving and getting feedback, being open to the process of giving and receiving, talking and listening, asking, wondering. Honest.

Then both groups met up in one room, Anna the owner of Writers' Workshoppe - a bookstore and the sponsor of this and many other workshops - said a few words, then Dorothy, then Lidia. I recognized some faces who'd been in the other group from the Memorial Day Lidia Yuknavitch workshop I'd done up there in Port Townsend. Met a couple of other writers, too.

Promises to each other, to Lidia and Dorothy, to ourselves to keep that fire which was lit inside of us going. Knowing that returning home to the rest of our life challenges that. Knowing that I/we want to keep it going and that will take some attention and care. And we made a promise to Lidia and Dorothy to share the spark, the flame, the fire, with one other.

Writing may be a solitary act and it is for community, for sharing. Take one, pass it along. You can do it.

I'll have more to say about the workshop later. I will. But after two days of being in writing workshops, writing, thinking about writing, talking about writing, then the drive home which always takes longer than online maps say it will - I'm tired. And it's time for sleep.

And dreaming.
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Writing Sample from the LIdia Yuknavitch Workshop

This weekend I'm attending a workshop with both Lidia Yuknavitch and Dorothy Allison. The participants are divided into two groups and each group spends one day with Lidia and one day with Dorothy. Tonight we had the pleasure of listening to both Lidia and Dorothy read from their future novels. I'm excited to read them both and I could have listened to more tonight.

It was an incredible day with Lidia, with the other writers. Writing. Listening to their words, those who wanted to share. Strength, power, honesty. Brave.

This isn't something I normally do - but here I go. This is a raw piece of writing from the workshop today. I want to put it out there, as is. This was the third of a series of three related prompts. No, you don't get to see the earlier two and I'm not even giving you the prompt, which wouldn't make sense if you don't get parts one and two.

Here it is, untitled, from Port Townsend.

Flutter in the wind and the waves of knowledge passing through. Directing, redirecting and I know from where the wind comes though I’m not sure where it’s going. The going isn’t my concern, no it’s that you know. That we know that life is a river and you don’t have to stay here all the time you can change your mind and swim upstream or rest on the bank on a rock in the sun or under the shade of a tree if the light is too bright. You don’t have to brave it all at once it all leads to the same place and we will all get there. We will. I promise. I’m soft and downy and I carry the rhythm of not only your life but all life because life needs. Life is. Life. Live it. Stroke me, carry me, hear me if you can but I beat. Under the darkness inside, darkness outside. But I know and you can know if you’re willing, that darkness is just a different way of seeing. It is not absence of sight not absent of light, but a strengthening of the other senses. Strengthening of that inner knowing which I know and I will hold for you. Knowing. Holding. My wings flap and I flutter and I hold you in my gentleness and all my strength. Cry or don’t. Just be. With me.

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