The Creative Nonfiction Writing Conference In Pittsburgh

Dale Chihuly's art glass at the Phipps.

Dale Chihuly’s art glass at the Phipps.

I’m home from a great weekend in Pittsburgh, where I spent my days with other writers as we explored the genre of Creative Nonfiction, hosted by the magazine of the same name.  Held at the University Club at the University of Pittsburgh, the setting was perfect.  I stayed in a hotel in the neighborhood and enjoyed my morning and late afternoon walks back and forth.  Though I’m not one for sitting for long periods of time, my interest was held firmly by the presentations and the information I received.

Friday was all about the publishing process. Presentations about the role of literary magazines in a writer’s career, self-publishing, the benefits of going with a small press, and crowdfunding by experts in the their fields were helpful.

I especially enjoyed talks by Dinty W. Moore, writer and editor of Brevity, an online magazine that publishes creative nonfiction essays of  750 words or less.  Lee Gutkind, founder and editor of Creative Nonfiction magazine, imparted with great wisdom and enthusiasm, his love for the genre along with its history.  He is considered by Vanity Fair, to be the Godfather behind the nonfiction movement.

Editor and agent, Emily Loose, brought insight to the ever changing landscape of the publishing industry, helping us to explore the pros and cons of both traditional publishing and self publishing. For those interested in crowdfunding, CEO of Inkshares, Larry Levitsky, spoke about his company. Hattie Fletcher, of In Fact Books, and Michael Simms, of Autumn House Press, discussed working with a small press.

Saturday, was my favorite part of the conference.  “Style & Substance: The Craft of  Creative Nonfiction,” and it’s various aspects were discussed by Dinty W. Moore and Lee Gutkind. They were followed by novelist and memoir writer, Jane Bernstein and then memoirist and nonfiction writer, Peter Trachtenberg.  I was inspired by every word they had to say and felt I’d fallen into a delicious garden of wisdom.  As a result, I’m beginning the rewrite of my book all over again to hopefully include some of the ideas they passed on.  That same afternoon I had a private consultation with Emily Loose, who gave me some excellent advice about approaching an agent and the need to take one’s time in the editing process.

On Sunday morning I went a writing session where CNF’s Boot Camp style of writing prompts and motivational techniques were used.  I discovered that I have more difficulty writing with pen and paper than I do writing on my computer.  It used to be just the opposite.   In the afternoon, I met with Dinty Moore and six other writers for a critique of the work we had all brought to the conference.  It was extremely helpful and validated the thoughts I’d had the previous day about how to make my memoir even better than it already is :-).  I loved it.

In between all that, I was given a fantastic tour of the Phipps Conservatory and Botanical Garden, by a fellow writer and new friend.  I loved seeing the glasswork of Dale Chihuly, tucked into the lushness of the gardens.  I also helped my husband, scout out St. Anne Cemetery for the graves sites of several of his ancestors.  He spent his weekend exploring graveyards and old houses, getting ready to do some writing about his family of origin.

We also enjoyed fabulous food. Legume, a farm to table restaurant, and Paris 66, a French bistro, were Bill’s and my favorites. I even managed to stay with my gluten and sugar-free way of eating without missing the sweetness of outragious desserts or the tang of freshly baked sourdough bread right from the oven.

I would highly recommend this conference to anyone who is in the throws of starting or is in the midst of a nonfiction writing project.  I learned a lot and enjoyed my time surrounded by other writers, all of whom had their own wisdom to share. I enjoyed the laid back atmosphere without sales hype, just the passing along of valuable information. Maybe I’ll go again next year!

How To Write A Synopsis

IMG_1117I’m getting a lot of exercise these days. I don’t mean working out at the gym or hiking in the gorgeous Blue Ridge Mountains just thirty minutes from my doorstep. It’s my brain and fingers that are getting the exercise. After having sent the first draft of my memoir, ME, MYSELF, AND MOM, A Journey Through Love, Hate, and Healing, to a number of beta readers, I’m now in the midst of a rewrite before I send it off to a developmental editor.

A month or so ago I started reading Brooke Warner’s, How To Sell Your Memoir.  I put the book down just after reading the section about writing a synopsis.  I thought I was getting ahead of myself and figured I’d  go back to it later, after I’d finished my rewrite. But life has a way of doing its own thing. While I waited for two of my readers to get their comments and recommendations to me, I put my rewrite on hold. I wanted to see all the comments together before I jumped in.

Not wanting to waste time, I contacted a developmental editor who had been highly recommended to me by a writing friend. Yes, he was interested in working with me.  He liked my website and said it sounded like I had a powerful story to tell.  He then asked me to write a synopsis of my book … a page and a half in length … so that he could see where I was going.  Having recently finished reading that section  in Brooke Warner’s book, I said, “I can do that. I’ll get it off to you in a few days.”  I figured it would be easy. It took me a good week and a half to finally get it together. I’ve never sweated so much in my life. It seemed an impossible task.

When I showed it to my writing coach, Kevin, he said it would suffice for my editor, but that it  had to be rewritten if I was going to use it to sell my book; as in sending it to an agent or publisher, or anyone else for that matter.  “You’ve left out some of the most important details,” he said. “You need to sell yourself and your story in order to get attention.” For me, an introvert, that’s easier said than done. I’m not good at self praise and don’t like to sound like I have a big head.

I began to rewrite it, figuring it would be a great thing to take along to the Creative Nonfiction Writing Conference I’m planning to attend this coming weekend in Pittsburgh.  I added some key elements, and then got caught up in rewriting my book after those two readers finally sent me their comments.

As I started gathering  materials to take with me, I remembered I’d signed up to be in a small critique group.  They asked a piece under 3,000 words. If it is to be part of a book, it was suggested I send a one paragraph synopsis along with it. I thought, “Okay, maybe a one paragraph synopsis will be easier than the two page job.“ 

But how do you tell a long story in one paragraph? It took me three days to do it. It was so hard. I think I need to get involved in writing flash memoir, something that other writers have been talking about lately.  Anyway, I sent it in with a chapter from my book.

Then a few days ago, I got an email saying that Amy Loose, an independent editor and agent  who would present a talk on, “Publishing In The Digital Age,’’ was also available for one-on-one meetings with conference attendees.  Still not knowing whether I want to self-publish or go with a small press, I figured meeting with her could only add to of my knowledge.  So I signed up and got started on …  Yes, another synopsis.  This time the requirements were for one page, double spaced. Yikes!

I’m working on it … Pulling apart the longer version and taking a look at the single paragraph to see how I can come up with something in-between.  It’s making me a bit looney.  I’d rather work on the  Sunday New York Times crossword puzzle. But damn, I am learning how to do this.

Still at work on the original synopsis, along with my book rewrite, I’m finding the more hours I put in the easier it gets.  I plan on taking all three synopses with me this weekend.  The book will wait until I get home.

Do you find writing synopses hard?

My Mom Lives On

DSC02486In October of 2012, I took a trip up to Long Island to scatter my mother’s ashes in the places she loved and had spent most of her life.  She had died in 2007.  Unable to deal with the anger and rage she caused me during her last seven years of life, I tucked her ashes away on the top shelf of a dark closet. It took me until just a few months before that trip to understand what had happened between us and why. I found forgiveness for her in a journey of memory I took through our history together. I found out things I hadn’t known about my mom or me.

As I scattered the last of her ashes in places where she’d spent time as an adult and a child, I felt lighter and happier than I’d been in a long time.  My rage was gone and I was able to pick up the pieces of my life and put it back together.

A month or so after returning home from that “letting-go” trip, I began reorganizing my studio. I found a small tin tucked away in a corner and upon opening it I discovered another tiny plastic bag filled with her ashes.  I took those remains and placed them on the  ground around a tree peony that grows just outside my  studio door.  It had been transplanted a few years earlier and hadn’t adjusted well to its new location.  At the time I asked Mom to help that beautiful plant to grow strong and tall.

This is what she did!IMG_1109IMG_1112

Around The World In Fifteen Days With Only One Stop

IMG_0787I’ve been home for just over two weeks since we returned from London.  The first week was great.  The second week I had a nasty cold. I’m over it and the jet lag, though last Saturday’s time change is setting me back a bit. I’m very happy to be home. It’s no fun being sick when you’re away from your own space and without the usual comforts I keep stashed away for just such an occasion. Like my  “Sure-to-Cure” Elderberry syrup and sweat inducing chicken soup, filled with big chunks of carrots, parsnips, shredded chicken, and brown rice. I frequently clicked the heels of my ruby red slippers together while sniffling away, and repeated “There is no place like home.”  But I didn’t wake up like Dorothy did, to find myself in my own bed with Auntie Em and Toto welcoming me home.

But really, it wasn’t all that bad. The Organic Planet grocery shop right around the corner from the flat we rented was a huge help. They had dynamic smoothies and carrot/apple/ginger juice which I enjoyed several times a day at the peek of feeling aweful.  And I wasn’t alone.  Bill got it too. But it wasn’t like the time we both got the flu with severe body aches and fevers while visiting New York City.  We were staying in a not so great hotel in Chinatown, that didn’t have room service. It was in the middle of winter with snow on the ground and freezing cold winds whipping through the canyons between skyscrapers.

We arrived in England to temps in the 70’s with clear skies and sun, though it turned into typical London weather a few days later with on and off rain and a bit of a chill.  Our second day out, we walked four miles through Hyde Park and Kensington Gardens, enjoying the glorious day, the swans adrift on the pond, and lots of dogs running free, playing frisbee or ball with their people.  We ate a lovely lunch right in Hyde Park and in the evening went to St. Martin in the Fields to hear the music of Beethoven and a host of other composers. How sweet it was. The following night we met a friend and went to see the play, “The Curious Incident Of The Dog In The Night-time.”  It was a “WOW” show. Bill has written up a brief review of it and the other shows we saw, on his blog if you’re interested.

The first week ended perfectly with an overnight to Canterbury where we caught up with friends we haven’t seen in years, their gorgeous daughter, and amazing grandchildren. Back in the city we returned from dinner and a movie to find a terrorist arrest happening just around the block from our flat. There were dozens of police, guns, roads roped off, and gawkers standing about.

Then the “Cold” hit the fan. During “Much Ado About Nothing,” with Vanessa Redgrave and James Earl Jones, my throat was sore and my nose started running a marathon. I had no tissues with me. Despite the big names, we were both unimpressed with the show. At intermission we hightailed it out of there and went home to bed. I pushed myself to go out a few nights later for dinner and another show, (Ibsen’s, “Ghosts,”) with friends. The meal, the show, and seeing our friends were great, but I was feeling worse and by then Bill was sick as well.

We spent the next few days, like two caged birds, lying about and shlepping out to the Organic Planet for juice, lozenges, and vitamin C, while mountains of yucky tissues were building around us.  Happily I read a lot and finished up Part II of my memoir.

Bored and pretending he felt better, Bill took in two more plays while I languished at home. Stubborn as mules, we took to walking again, saw a few movies and made a visit to the fabulous, Chelsea Physic Gardens, where I was in seventh heaven.  It is a small (3 1/2 acre) garden with plants that are used for food, medicine, and cosmetics.  Before we went, I envisioned shelves of the gift shop filled with plant tinctures and bottles of elderberry syrup to help me get through our upcoming return journey across the Atlantic.  No such luck, but I did enjoy a delicious salad made from plants grown right there.  Then there was the arduous seven and three-quarter hour flight back to Washington which made things even worse. I was weak, impatient to get home and very grouchy.

IMG_0885Would I do it again? You betcha!

Getting out of town and our own country to see what is happening in the rest of world is one of the most valuable things you can do for yourself and your kids. It is a learning experience that brings new perspectives on how we view ourselves and the world around us. I haven’t been out the country for a long time and while I was busy here at home, I found out that we are becoming one big global village. In some ways it’s frightening, but it’s also very exciting.  If the creek don’t rise and I continue to have the stamina to spend all those miserable hours just getting there and back, I’ll go again and hopefully to other places on my bucket list as well.

The last time I was in London was well over ten years ago. Things have changed. This time, walking down the streets, I heard languages from every corner of the planet. I heard much less English.  While the U.S.A. is mostly attracting people from South and Central America, England and the rest of Europe are attracting people from the Middle-East, the Balkans, Asia, and North Africa. Food from all over the world is served in an amazing variety of restaurants. In some areas of the city, women with head covering or full face coverings are a common sight, as well men sitting at outside cafe’s smoking hooka pipes.  When I left on this journey I didn’t realize I was going to have a mind-bending cultural tour around the world.

I came to realize that we as human beings are doing what we have always done: migrating from our homelands to find a place where we imagine work is easier to find and we’ll feel safer. But we’re doing it on a much grander scale than ever. Many of us are uncomfortable and threatened by the many problems it brings. I see us needing to begin adapting to an era of change, in which the entire world becomes the melting pot. Hopefully we will tolerate and celebrate each other’s cultures with love, not war.

If anybody out there wants to know what is really happening beyond your back yard, buy a plane ticket. Go visiting instead of relying on American media to show and tell. In a country that is as close culturally as we can get to our own, I found the whole world just waiting for me to step into it.

IMG_0848Yes, at heart I’m a homebody. Yes, it was hard. Yes, I was sick. Yes, I came home exhausted and I was at times unnerved by the numbers of people I had to navigate through. But I had a look into what the future is perhaps going to look like. I came home a much more tolerant person and hopefully wiser. All in all, it was simply a lovely time.

October Adventure

IMG_0497October

Gusts hurry clouds
Large as icebergs across unlimited blue
Unclothed limbs thrash beneath shadows
Afraid the sky will burst

The gray squirrel
The one that limps  fusses at the cat
Seems thin like the light slipping
Over the edge

I fill the feeders
To overflowing  rake the path
Blanketed with summer’s remnants
Moldering through expectant afternoons

JZR
10/3/91

Though temperatures will be rising today to eighty  plus, and the humidity will soon make the air heavier, fall is here. At bedtime, I open a window in my room, leave the blanket in place and sleep more soundly than I do in summer. It is hibernation time.

Although I’m a morning person, it is difficult to get out of bed when it is so dark outside.  At this time of year I want a rise with the sun and go to sleep when it falls off in the west.  But that doesn’t leave enough time during the daylight hours to get enough done.  In another month the time will change and I’ll find it easier to get out of bed earlier. But night will encroach sooner than before and the evening chores in the garden will be done in strong afternoon light or wait until the days start lengthening again.

Though I haven’t finished the first draft of my book, it’s time for a change of scene.  Next week, I’m off on an adventure. I’m off to London, where a bridge has been falling down for centuries and a new born prince resides not too far away.  I’m very excited but at the same time having difficulty getting myself ready to go.  Packing has always been a chore for me.  I either pack too much or too little and then complain that my bags are either too heavy or I don’t have enough clothing to keep me from looking like an old, wrinkled wanderer.

After I leave the the house, the dogs and cat behind, I’ll become my traveling self, eager for something new and ready for change.  I’ll see some sights I haven’t checked out before, visit with old friends, see a few plays and listen to beautiful music at St. Martin’s in the Field.  I’ll check out Harrod’s and other stores that catch my interest and wander through the many outdoor markets looking for some small object that doesn’t cost much but  would be perfect for one of my works of art.

At this time of year, we usually go to the beach, just five hours away, where the tourists are mostly gone for the season. There I take in the sound of the ocean, walk barefoot in the sand, and simply rest.  But this year I decided on something different. I haven’t been to the other side of the pond in a number of years and decided it was time to return. And England is one my favorite places.  The years pass too quickly and though there are other places still on my bucket list, returning to special places is particularly comforting.  And having Frequent Flyer Miles to get me there certainly helps.

I may or may not show up here during the next couple of  weeks, depending on what I’m doing and how I’m feeling. Sometimes a body just needs a break from old routines. Other times life is so exciting I just may have to break my silence and fill you in on what’s happening.  In any case, I’ll be back in three weeks. Enjoy this wonderful season and the changes that lie before all of us.