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tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11218683844570020082016-05-24T06:55:17.137-04:00Women's Writing Circle A place to share our stories . . . Susan G. firstname.lastname@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-1121868384457002008.post-19480558796609599412016-05-23T07:29:00.001-04:002016-05-24T06:55:17.152-04:00Even A "Boring Childhood" Yields Nuggets of Gold

I didn't write much – if at all – about my childhood in my memoirs. My childhood seemed inconsequential and uneventful.

No Kill a Mockingbird or Adventures of Huckleberry Finn childhood for me. No abuse or divorce, or civil rights' quests . . . just rhubarb stew bubbling on the stovetop in summer, winters sledding on neighborhood hillsides and a dog named Lucky.

Writing about those growing up years as I have begun to do offers this insight: I became a writer because of that ordinary life, alone in my bedroom imagining a magical world waiting outside the solitude of suburbia.

Writing prompt: Write about your childhood starting with this line: "What I really want to say . . ."

What I really want to say is that loneliness has been with me as long as I can remember. My July birthday is a quiet affair. All the families are away at the New Jersey Shore or Pocono mountains. The plastic inflated swimming pool filled with icy water from the hose offered relief from the heat and humidity. I see myself in the pool wearing my blue and white checked bathing suit with strings that tie behind my neck.

Lucky, a mix of spaniel and terrier, is by my side. A vanilla cake, a few presents, one friend and the sound of humming cicadas set the scene. The purple and pink Rose of Sharon bush by the side of our house blooms on my birthday, July 11. Dad calls it "Susie's Rose of Sharon," as though this is celebration enough.

The sound of my childhood is a small glass wind chime bought on the boardwalk in Ocean City, New Jersey. I tie the wind chime to my bedroom window catch and the soft breezes of summer and the cooler winds of autumn lift the thin rectangular glass panes. The tinkle perfectly captures a sense of possibility that the world outside my window holds romance, a child's imagination spurred on by fairy tales of women who found happily-ever-after in a devoted Prince Charming. How was I to know that my prince would die long before I, leaving me with a tangle of thorns, bittersweet memories and an eye evermore scanning the horizon for storm clouds?

A sledding party.

On a bookshelf in my bedroom, I display my china horses: a palomino, a black horse and a little brown pony with a beaded saddle and a tuft of white furry mane purchased in a tacky boardwalk shop in Ocean City where everything is made in Japan.

Horses, wind chimes and the Nancy Drew mysteries fill my quiet child's world.

Those years remind me of a way of life long gone now, one I value the older I get for its utter simplicity, at least on the surface. Barbecues, kickball, hopscotch and sledding on neighborhood hillsides.

I walked to my elementary school along tree-lined sidewalks, past stone houses with big chimneys, tucked behind ancient arborvitae and oak trees. My pale brown hair pulled back in a barrette, I remember thinking I wasn't very pretty. "Pretty" was a word for the girls with the thick hair and upturned noses; not me, skinny and gangly, already the tallest girl in the class. Maybe then I began to build a shell to protect myself, not let other people see I cared. . . .

Pennsylvania is, if nothing else, a place where trees, flowers and plants flourish. Monkey vines in the woods behind our house, black snakes and turtles in the creek - before development stripped every acre for profit - formed the woodsy montage of my childhood in the 1950s.

I dug gobs of gray clay from the creek banks and molded them into little people with rounded balls for heads and torsos; squiggly, wormlike arms and legs. I dried my little people on newspaper in the sun, there in my own outdoor arts and crafts workshop until Mother called me in for lunch.

In second grade, our teacher Miss Stafford talked about leaves – a second grader's introduction to photosynthesis. A shy child, I heard myself tell the class we had a red sugar maple in our backyard and before I knew it, sixteen or so second graders followed our teacher's lead from Strafford Elementary, walking the sidewalks to my backyard where a perfect turquoise sky framed the tree. We gathered gold and crimson leaves, took them back to school and fashioned clay ashtrays in the shape of those leaves. Mine looked like a mitten. I stained it bright aquamarine before firing it up in the kiln. My father kept that ashtray in his den by his books for years. I wish I'd saved it. But even then I thought it ugly, not very good.

So you see? Even in a boring childhood, the "takeaways" exist, a map to the unknown, a memory here and there sparked by a thought or two. Who knows where it might lead?

What about you? Can you share a childhood memory or how it sparked your writing?

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Susan G. Weidenerhttps://firstname.lastname@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-1121868384457002008.post-26200163548798244172016-05-16T08:01:00.003-04:002016-05-16T08:56:14.895-04:00Viewing Life Through the Lens of Fantasy Fiction

In the Women's Writing Circle we explore many writing styles and share our stories through a variety of genres. If there's one thing we have in common, it's how writing offers an exploration of those things that most capture our imaginations, our pain, our joys, our self-discoveries and the human condition.

In this guest essay Women's Writing Circle member and fantasy fiction author Helen Hieble shares her love for the fantasy genre, explains what it is and how it offers the writer a unique melding of magical worlds with aspects of real life.  ~ Susan

I'm twenty-six years old and I've been writing for as long as I can remember. I've always loved fantasy stories. So, I guess it's no surprise that I write mostly fantasy fiction.

As a writer of fantasy, one thing I often hear is, "I don't usually read fantasy so I don't know much about it."

So, what is fantasy fiction? There are many types and sub-genres of fantasy, but the basic definition: Fiction that contains magic and supernatural elements as a main point of the story. Stories often take place in worlds created by the author. Magical beings and fantastic creatures such as unicorns, dragons, and many others, are not only possible, they are a part of life.

Fantasy novels offer a broad range of characters and settings and stories to tell. Characters can be men or women, they can be adults or teenagers or even children. There are fantasy novels written for people of all ages by people of all ages.

Characters can be any race from human beings like you and me, to vampires and werewolves, to fairies or mermaids, or even dragons. Or people who turn into dragons. Or dragons who turn into people!

It's just so much fun to think about what life would be like if I could actually go into one of these magical worlds. Wouldn't it be fun to be able to fly? Or see a unicorn? Or use magic?

I can imagine visiting another world and experiencing these things. I love writing fantasy because I can create another world and fill it with characters who, in my place, can experience these things for me.

Stories can take place in a fantasized version of the European Middle Ages, such as in the The Mists of Avalon by Marion Zimmer Bradley. Or a stylized version of the Oriental feudal era in Alison Goodman's Eon and Eona.

They might be set in a real town in the real world in the past, or modern day. One example of a fantasy series in this setting is the Twilight Saga by Stephenie Meyer.

They might also take place in a fictionalized town set in the modern day, real world like the town of Mystic Falls, Virginia in L.J. Smith's young adult series The Vampire Diaries . . . or in a world created by the author in J.R.R. Tolkien's Lord of the Rings trilogy or Terry Goodkind's The Sword of Truth series. And sometimes in multiple worlds as in the Harry Potter series by J.K. Rowling or in Frewin Jones', The Faerie Path.

Another question I'm asked, "Why do you like fantasy so much?" I haven't always had a clear understanding of why. As a child, I never put much (or any) thought into why I liked something. I just liked it. But as I grew older, I began to identify with the characters. And while I knew that many of the things my favorite characters went through were things that I would never have to deal with exactly - such as fighting and defeating monsters - I also knew I would deal with difficulties in my life.

The heroes and heroines of my favorite stories, despite the many hardships, trials and tribulations always find a way to persevere in the end, usually with the help of friends, family and teammates.

The characters in the books I read as a teenager and the books I still read today, inspire me and give me hope for the future. They help me to believe that things will always work out and that with hard work and the help of your allies, you can do anything.

Please join in the conversation and share your thoughts and questions with Helen about fantasy fiction or how stories spur imagination and offer insight into our own life journeys.

Helen Hieble lives in Wayne Pennsylvania. She has been writing short stories in the fantasy genre for over ten years and has self-published one fantasy-romance novella, The Wizard of Hirodenal. She has also written a journal, My Favorite Things: A Journal to Record Your Favorites, From Anime to Video Games. Helen runs a copyediting and writing service: www.writefromtheheartservices.com. Her author website is www.thewizardofhirodenal.com. In her free time when she is not writing, Helen enjoys listening to music, playing video games, and watching anime. She is currently working on her next novella.

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Susan G. Weidenerhttps://email@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-1121868384457002008.post-36886034998595749632016-05-08T07:58:00.001-04:002016-05-13T11:21:33.776-04:00With Time Comes Understanding My Mother's Life

My mother used to say, "A woman president? What a terrible idea!" My mother felt men held more sway, their opinions carried more weight. I suspect, although can't be certain, she would have applied the 'b' word to Hillary.

"I prefer the company of men to women," she often said.

My mother didn't choose the moment in history in which she had been born. And with time comes more understanding of my mother and her life.

With a cloud of dark hair cascading around her shoulders, large expressive brown eyes, and a slender figure that enhanced stylish dresses, Gertrude graduated at age sixteen from Germantown High School in Philadelphia. She met the boy next door – actually across the street. Dad courted her while he lived at home with his mother and attended the University of Pennsylvania. Following a two-year engagement, she became – at the age of twenty-three – his bride. Despite a fractious marriage punctuated by her husband's infidelity in midlife, she never took off the delicate silver wedding band my father slipped on her finger that June day in 1940.

At Christmas she sat down at the piano and played, "Oh Tannenbaum," warbling in a soprano voice that wavered on the high notes. "I am proud to be German," she announced afterwards, finishing off with a flourish of chords.

I remember the night Mother came home drunk from a party. My father looked at me. "I think your mother is out for the night." Then he went upstairs.

I watched her dance around the living room like Isadora Duncan, hands fluttering in time to a melody only she could hear. Finally, she flopped down on the living room sofa and passed out in turquoise silk high heels and long raccoon coat, a rhinestone bracelet glinting on her thin wrist.

An insecure and anxious girl - a confession she readily made - her innocence found a connection with animals. Her first dog, a black cocker spaniel my father bought her when they were newlyweds named Charkie (short for Charcoal), vanished one afternoon shortly after my brother, Andy, was born. Mother believed Charkie had been stolen for medical research. The disappearance of her dog broke her fragile heart. A photograph of her in tweed winter coat with huge padded shoulders, her "baby" dog snuggled in her arms remained on her bedroom dresser for years, a symbol to me of love, loyalty and incurable sentimentality.

Mother demanded being the center of attention, especially with men. Men were the currency of self-worth. One night when I was about sixteen, she sat on the lap of her best friend's husband and stroked his cheek, giggling, "Now Jack, what is that I feel pressing against my thigh. You bad boy!"

"Aw, Gerrude," Jack said slurring out the 't'. His stubby hand held a cigarette and a tumbler of whiskey. "Why don't you and I head upstairs?"

"Jack," Mother chided in mock horror. "Maryann would never talk to me again."

"Gertrude, you can have him. With pleasure," Maryann said, slurring her words a bit and lighting another cigarette, her black Standard poodle Monsieur sprawled at her feet.

I wanted to crawl under a table and disappear. While his wife shamelessly flirted with another man, Dad remained his usual refrained, unruffled self. Dad had married a diva, a drama queen and he made the best of it. I'm sure he also knew Mother would never carry through with Jack. Years later when I caught myself flirting with a man while my husband sat in the room, I caught my breath.

Maryann was Mother's best friend. The friendship revolved around a daily weekday morning phone conversation about hair appointments, cleaning house and gossip at the school where both their husbands worked.

"Maryann is so bored she's dusting and vacuuming again," Mother would tell my father after hanging up.

As she aged, the harder it got to manufacture dreams of happily-ever-after or foresee where it all went from here. Days revolved around bargain hunting at grocery stores, and Mother resorted to whatever means she could to be acknowledged.

The lovely brunette cut and dyed her hair a bright ash blond, flirted with the pharmacist who filled her prescription for anti-depressants and the butcher with the blood-stained apron who brought her the juiciest tenderloin steaks. A small, but meaningful triumph!

She adored my husband. "John is a doll," she often said, as if I didn't know this already. "And so talented," she enthused because, unlike Dad, John knew how to cut a sheet of drywall, fix a broken fence. John redid their small family room in light wood paneling, replacing the "dark dreary," paneling Mother hated.

Depression set in hard that even a small job at the local gift shop couldn't derail. The lunchtime port wines, long afternoon naps and two-hour cocktail hours took their toll . . . offered temporary escape from high anxiety.

When John danced with her on her 50th wedding anniversary and said, "Mom, you're beautiful, I love you," she literally bloomed in his arms.

My mother always had my lunches packed for school and fresh flowers on the table. The older I got, the more she said, "I love you, Susie. You're a good daughter."

And the older I get, the more I say, "Thank you, Mom. I love you. I understand."

How about you? Do you remember those moments . . . the ties that bind you and your mother?

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Susan G. Weidenerhttps://firstname.lastname@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-1121868384457002008.post-5134017664546104382016-05-02T07:41:00.001-04:002016-05-13T11:14:22.370-04:00Silencing the 'Whispers' That Hobble Women's Writing
I spend quite a bit of time editing women's memoirs. For the last two months I've critiqued and revised many short stories for our upcoming anthology Life Unexpected. In some of the pieces I'm struck by the timidity and tentativeness.

What do I hear 'whispered' between the lines that obscure the true narrative?

Who can I trust? What might I anticipate if someone recognizes themselves in my story? How much of myself should I reveal?

Silencing the whispers of doubt and judgment - whether our own or others - works its magic. I like to think that a positive attitude about myself and my work makes me eager in the morning to sip that first hot cup of coffee and take a risk with my writing.

I enjoy writing about the woman alone without a husband, boyfriend, a voyager of her own obstacles, journey and self-worth. A woman who sets her sights on the bigger picture and isn't dragged down by the footnotes of life.

In a recent article in the New York Times, "Jodie Foster Is Still Afraid of Failure," the two-time Oscar winner for The Accused and The Silence of the Lambs talks about her challenges and insecurities:

"If Mother Teresa is propelled to do good works because she believes in God, I am propelled to do good works because of how bad I feel about myself. It's the first place I go. 'Oh, what did I do wrong?'" Foster said.

Foster, whose trademark in the movies has been playing strong women, says she finds herself trapped between the quest for perfection coupled with the fear of failure.

Her mother told her that playing Clarice Starling in The Silence of the Lambs was the "boring" role. Why take it, she asked her daughter?

At one point in her career, Foster had to silence her mother's criticisms. She didn't speak to her mother for over four months in order to honor her own voice. (Clarice, as portrayed by Foster, was ranked the 6th greatest protagonist in film history by the American Film Institute.)

As feminist author Joanna Russ writes in  How to Suppress Women's Writing, women's memoir has always been denigrated as "confessionals" by "literati" of the male establishment. Cultural messages try to obliterate and undermine the female experience.

Women telling the "raw truth" are subjected to the stereotype of the female artist as "personally unlovable, precocious and unbecoming."

"Critics would have us believe that confessional literature is so personal in its content ... it has no value as literature," Russ writes.

As I write this blog post, sipping my first hot cup of coffee on a Monday morning, I am enjoying the process. I wonder how it will be received? I hope what I write strikes even a small chord of resonance. I know one thing . . . I want to keep writing and expressing myself. I want to keep reading your work, the poems, the memoirs . . . so many interesting and talented women who have a story to share. I want to silence those whispers.
.

Portions of this blog post excerpted from an earlier blog post titled "The Trust Factor"

How about you? What motivates you to write?

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Susan G. Weidenerhttps://email@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-1121868384457002008.post-81519517703493844852016-04-25T08:04:00.001-04:002016-04-25T08:04:25.515-04:00Mother Of an Addict Finds Her Voice

In this beautiful essay Kathy Pooler shares finding her voice as both a woman and mother as she confronts a deeply personal challenge - a son who is addicted to alcohol and drugs. Her journey will be chronicled in a new memoir she has been writing, tentatively titled The Edge of Hope. Please welcome Kathy, a well-known memoir author and expert on the genre, back to the Women's Writing Circle.

"Remember, your child doesn't need you to take them away from their journey towards discovering their light, they simply need to see your light shining as a reminder of their own along the way." ~ Changing Lives Foundation

When I looked into his dark brown eyes, I couldn't believe how blessed I was to have such a beautiful, healthy baby boy. In that moment when I fell in love with him, I envisioned the special part he would play in the world and the pride I would feel as his mom.

I held on to that vision through his childhood. My days were filled with picking caterpillars off his arm before he devoured them, helping him find his Match Box cars under the couch and cheering for him at T-ball, then Little League games. I loved being his mom.

Then when Brian turned fourteen our lives forever changed. I still remember that day I looked into his bloodshot eyes and realized I was looking into his father's eyes—the eyes of an alcoholic.

My son is an addict. Before that realization I was just a regular mom, going through my days, wiping noses, packing lunches, arranging play dates. The first time I saw him drunk, my bright-eyed boy became a stranger. Before that day, his escalating erratic behavior and sudden outbursts of anger-- punching walls and slamming doors-- were harbingers of problems ahead. In that moment, he took my hopes and dreams for a healthy, successful life with him into his world of marijuana and beer.

Not only did I have to figure out who he was, I had to figure out who I was in the face of this new, horrifying reality. I was still his mom but I knew deep down, even though it was so early on, that I was also the mother of an addict.

I had to find my voice all over again.

I stumbled through many years, trying on different roles –-strict disciplinarian, angry, no-nonsense mom, worried mom--searching for the right voice to combat the terror and confusion of watching Brian sink deeper into his addiction. I held this false belief that I, as his mom, could and should control his behavior. I had him sign a contract with consequences –he couldn't play on the baseball team if he kept drinking--which ended up a mere piece of paper. My lectures, tears and pleas fell on deaf ears. I dragged him to interventions, counseling, spent my savings on his treatment. (I would do it all over again despite his lack of readiness to acknowledge he had a problem.) I'm a mom. We do whatever it takes to help our children.

"Let go" is the cry of Alanon.

How do you let go of a child?

A mother's heart beats for her child.

I had to learn that helping Brian was often more about my need to control his
disease than it was about helping him. I had to let go of the driving need to control his choice to drink and use marijuana and save him from his own consequences by doing for him what he could and should be doing for himself-- like paying his own court fees--so that he could find his own way in life. In letting go of my need to control, I did let go of him as much as any mother can let go of her child, but I never stopped saying those three words "I love you" and assuring him that I believed in his ability to recover.

And something magical happened when I started focusing on myself rather than just on him. We both got better! He had the space to find recovery in his own way. I backed off on asking probing questions every time we talked on the phone and, instead, let him know that I trusted in his ability to make the right decision. It was his choice. I visualized him doing well and sent him positive vibes rather than messages filled with hand-wringing angst; I stopped trying to track him down and let him come to me. In doing so, I released myself from the shackles of expectation and negativity. We were free to meet on new ground and over time we reestablished a healthy mother–son bond.

It's because of him and the adversity we have both faced that I found my mother's voice. It was there all along. I just needed to find myself first then claim and honor all I tried to do in good faith to help my son . . . and to honor him for the man he has become through his struggles. As Brian had choices to make, so did I.

What I have discovered as I approach my seventieth birthday and reflect on these years of heartache and worry . . . I never stopped loving Brian. I can hate the disease but I can still love my son. I can hold on to that vision I had all those years ago when I first held him in my arms and looked into his eyes. I saw my son's future filled with hope and promise . . . my mother's heart overflowing with the miracle of him.

Kathleen Pooler is an author and a retired Family Nurse Practitioner whose memoir, Ever Faithful to His Lead: My Journey Away From Emotional Abuse, published on July 28, 2014 and work-in-progress sequel, The Edge of Hope (working title) are about how the power of hope through her faith in God helped her to transform, heal and transcend life's obstacles and disappointments: domestic abuse, divorce, single parenting, loving and letting go of an alcoholic son, cancer and heart failure to live a life of joy and contentment. She believes that hope matters and that we are all strengthened and enlightened when we share our stories. She lives with her husband Wayne in eastern New York.

She blogs weekly at her Memoir Writer's Journey blog: http://krpooler.com

Twitter @kathypooler

https://twitter.com/KathyPooler

LinkedIn: Kathleen Pooler: https://www.linkedin.com/pub/kathleen-pooler/16/a95/20a

Google+:Kathleen Pooler: https://plus.google.com/109860737182349547026/posts

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/4812560-kathleen-pooler

Facebook: Personal page

Kathy Pooler : https://www.facebook.com/kathleen.pooler

Author page:

Kathleen Pooler/Memoir Writer's Journey: https://www.facebook.com/memoirwritersjourney

Pinterest (http://www.pinterest.com/krpooler/)

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Susan G. Weidenerhttps://email@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-1121868384457002008.post-17443116368186881792016-04-18T09:35:00.002-04:002016-04-18T13:24:53.472-04:00My Dog Boosts My Writing and So Much More

Have you ever fallen in love with a dog? If so, no more needs be said. I know Lily is my best "girlfriend," my walking buddy, my bedtime snuggle bunny. With that special cock of her head and soulful stare, Lily understands my moods . . .our routines mesh into one.

Having a dog offers this writer a spark to her creative muse. It was because of Lily, I wrote this during my 2016 winter writing retreat in Tucson, Arizona.

As I began my solitary walk heading toward the Rillito riverbank, I saw a woman wearing white peasant blouse and peach pedal pushers. She waved at me.

"Do you want your cards read?" A card table beneath a mesquite tree and a deck of tarot cards beckoned.

"How much?"

"Ten dollars."

A bargain for a divination of sorts.

"I have to get my wallet out of the car. I'll be right back."

When I return to her little table, she gestures to a folding canvas chair. "Sit down. Relax."

"What do you want to know?" she asks. "It helps when reading the cards. I take reading the cards very seriously." She has huge, light blue eyes.

I think for a moment. "Will I write another book? "

"Ah, so you're a writer. I am too. I've been working on a screenplay for years," she confides. "I started out in LA, somehow ended up in Tucson, just me and my cat. Who would have thought?" she smiles.

I nod. Kindred spirits. This feels good. I shuffle the cards as instructed, split the deck into thirds and place each pile back into one. I draw the cards, hand them to her and she turns them face up on the table.

She studies them. "Yes, you are meant to write another book. It is a very important book. One that has a deeply spiritual connection."

Her certainty from random cards sets me aback. Seriously?

I tell her that I have already written that book – A Portrait of Love and Honor, a love story based on my late husband's memoir. Publishing his memoir twenty-one years after his death had been the spiritual book she meant, yes?

She shakes her head. "No. Another book. I sense grief about you. A concern."

It is true. I have been worried about Lily. I left her behind in Pennsylvania where that very weekend a blizzard raged.

As the warm dry wind off the Santa Catalina mountains blows wisps of mesquite branches across the Trader Joe's parking lot, I hear myself telling this woman how my winter writing retreat has turned into a nightmare of worry about my dog. My son has not been spending much time with her. Could he get to my house in the snowstorm and make sure Lily wasn't alone?

"Lily offers me great solace and companionship," I say.

"Animals are often our spirit guides. Perhaps she was sent to you as a way to say, all will be well."

I nod. I know instinctually what she means. "Maybe I need to write about that."

 ****

Lily and I share our days.
When the boyfriend comes over and she gets a little jealous and feisty and wants to play tug-of-war with her ratty old rope – it's as if to say, "Look at me, you two! Let's have fun together!"

And when he leaves, I'm delighted with our snuggle bunny time . . . Lily on the bed, me kissing ears, velvety soft snout, creamy white yellow lab paws, She adores me fawning all over her, "See? There's no way he can compare to me."

When I start dinner, I look at her. "I've gotta take off this bra." She smiles. Well of course isn't that our routine every night?

I unhook the damn thing, throw it on a dining room chair. Ah sweet comfort, sweet home. Just Lily and me.

Some might say I'm crazy talking to a dog all day . . . but there's a lot of us who do the same thing. Pure unadulterated, unconditional love offers a perfect little brew of creativity. My dog boosts my writing, my special "memoir moments" and more.

How about you? Has your dog or cat offered up some writing prompts, a jumpstart to your muse? Do you have a story to share how a pet has gotten you to write a story?

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Susan G. Weidenerhttps://email@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-1121868384457002008.post-30851604033769479442016-04-11T08:51:00.001-04:002016-04-11T08:51:42.464-04:00Writing As a Participatory Process Invites the Reader In
Writers like to think of themselves as loners. They often work in isolation, exploring a private and personal journey in the quiet of a favorite room with a view. Some even refer to themselves as "anti-social." They jokingly admit they're in their own head too much.

But isn't writing a participatory process? I believe it is which is why I love sharing work with others through small critique sessions, or beta reader groups, or in the read around that is the Women's Writing Circle.

As the facilitator of a writing group I've gotten an up close and personal look at much of what stymies the writer . . . that is, until she shares her work.

In our current project, Life Unexpected, an anthology of stories and poems with the title serving as our theme, we've broken into small online beta groups with an editor at the helm. The editor is primarily the organizer since the editor's own story for the book is also critiqued by the group. There's a nice egalitarian aspect to this; communicating realizations, breaking down boundaries, and sharing, not just with friends and family, but fellow writers we've never met.

At our April Women's Writing Circle critique session, we marveled at what transpires after we read aloud our work and the critiquer takes notes and offers suggestions to the author for improvement and clarity.

Here's what we learned: Sometimes, we're so close to our characters, (especially if it's ourselves, or someone who played an instrumental role in our lives) we forget the simplest details.

What does he look like?

How old is he or she?

What motivates him or her?

Is backstory necessary (usually, the answer is a resounding yes!) and how can this be accomplished in a way that doesn't unduly slow down the action or narrative?

And while we're talking about characters . . . It's amazing how much more we offer the reader if we understand psychology – our own and others. I've written a post about this: The Writer As Amateur Psychologist.

This is where the digging deep comes in . . . the soul-searching . . .

It is the part where we realize we have a covenant with the reader. We present life through a "participatory lens" – letting the reader into a world redolent with universal themes and populated by a "cast of characters."

We all know who they are.

The man who would rule a woman through force of will or religious dogma; the ungrateful son who always expected his mother to put a meal on the table but does little for her in her old age; the poor and humble man whose way of life forces an entire community to re-examine its ideals and values.

As we share our work in a participatory process, we value the reader.

What makes us love a person? How can we love if we don't understand ourselves? Why is a character angry? Who makes a difference and why?

At our Saturday Women's Writing Circle critique session, I felt the magic of the participatory process when I read my work. Comments I received . . ."I can identify with this . . . I, too, have felt this way" . . . makes the hard work of writing so very rewarding. A writer has brought the reader into the "circle" of her and her character's own life experience.

So this is a call to step out of the isolation of your head, read and share your work with others . . . even if it is in the fledgling or draft stages. Participating, sharing, breaking down the barriers through the written word is a gift.

What has your experience been when sharing your work?

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Susan G. Weidenerhttps://firstname.lastname@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-1121868384457002008.post-75149700630491653592016-03-28T07:56:00.001-04:002016-04-07T06:06:21.420-04:00Critique As a Positive - Not Painful - Experience

Writers and artists tend to have fragile egos. One poorly worded criticism can set the author back, erode her confidence, engender hurt or angry feelings.

So the question becomes - how best to go about the task of critiquing another writer's work, making it as painless and yet as instructive as possible?

As Benjamin Franklin once said: "Any fool can criticize, condemn and complain and most fools do."

The art of constructive criticism, therefore, is an art of thoughtful and valuable feedback.

As a developmental editor of fiction and nonfiction, I have come to realize critique is a delicate balancing act. Good editing involves patience, a keen eye, attention to detail and most of all – sensitivity to the writer and his or her unique voice and writing style, while keeping in mind that the goal is the best possible work.

A helpful critique doesn't attack the writer, it offers insight into how to plug the holes in a story and make it a worthy experience for the only audience that matters – the reader.

This past weekend a group of us who form our anthology core committee gathered to work on Life Unexpected, a compilation of stories and poems we're planning to publish with about twenty contributors early next year. Our task – ensuring that our contributing authors understand that critique can be a collaborative and collegial experience, as well as a way to better learn and hone the craft of writing.

When it comes to an anthology containing many different voices and writing styles, sharing the work of editing and critiquing through small groups of beta readers as we plan to do also helps lessen the workload that goes into producing a quality book on a limited budget.

One very positive way to offer criticism is provide a suggestion. Instead of saying, "You have to do this or that" . . . pose your criticism as a question "Have you thought of trying this?" It's incentive for the writer to take a second look and see how a change might enhance the work.

When you critique a piece, you'll probably see many things needing improvement. Our committee decided to put together a list to help beta readers provide thoughtful critique.

Things to keep in mind as you're reading the story (as they apply):

Does the story flow in a logical fashion that the reader can follow? (Chronology, timeline.)

Is a character's motivation clear, and, if not, why not? Is some backstory needed to explain why a person acts as he/she does?

Are details consistent? If a character is fifty years old at the beginning of the story and the flashback takes place twenty-five years ago, make sure she is twenty-five.

Does the reader know the year in which the action takes place?

Is the setting clear? (State, town, are just two examples.)

Are descriptions vivid? For example, a tree is not just a tree, but a red maple tree in October sunlight; a sweater is not just a sweater, but pale blue cashmere.

Can the reader picture the characters? Age? Physical characteristics? Body language? Idiosyncrasies?

Be alert to passive verbs like 'was', replacing with strong action verbs.

Is there a takeaway – a lesson learned that the author imparts to her readers by the end of the story?
Our next Women's Writing Circle critique is on April 9. Here's our guidelines with more tips on positive critiquing.

If we approach criticism in a positive light, we're lessening the "drag" on our creative energy. We're easing up on ourselves – and accepting, nothing is perfect. There's always room for improvement. We're giving ourselves permission to stay relaxed and open to new and, hopefully, better ways to tell a story.

How about you? Have you found critique painful or positive? What helps put a positive spin on criticism?

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Susan G. Weidenerhttps://email@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-1121868384457002008.post-79267666377136811022016-03-21T07:33:00.001-04:002016-03-21T08:08:06.022-04:00Searching For the Muse On Writing Retreat

Writing retreats are evocative for the writer, portending magic and alchemy. Diving into new story, honoring the creative muse . . . a retreat offers respite from the distractions and pressures of family and the outside world.

When memoirist Janet Givens invited me to her home on Chincoteague Island, Virginia for a writers' retreat, I couldn't resist. I felt the allure of spending six days with other writers.

So it began last Wednesday when I rendezvoused in Painters Crossing, Pennsylvania with memoirist Marian Beaman and Merril D. Smith, poet and scholar.

I hadn't met either woman before - nor our hostess. A retreat on an island I had never before visited evoked childhood memories of reading Misty of Chincoteague, about the wild pony who captures the love and imagination of two children.

Beginning in 2010, I published the trilogy of my memoirs – three memoirs in five years. Where to go from here? Perhaps a writing retreat offered a guidepost to exploration, a path back to the creative muse.

So much of my life has been built around deadlines and goals. Inspiration, however, is as intangible as the sea breezes . . . it can't be conjured or controlled.

As we wandered the woodland trails in search of the ever-elusive ponies of Assateague Island, I felt the sunshine work its magic. Two days into our retreat, we came by chance upon four ponies grazing near the beaches. As is so often the case in life, surprises and the extraordinary find us when we least expect it.

This retreat was open-ended and relaxed, adhering to little or no schedule, a fitting metaphor for many of our discussions about structure in memoir, in narratives and storytelling. We shared our search to find the best framework to tell our stories in an engaging and logical way. Third person or first? Memoir or fiction? Writing in an autobiographical fashion or crafting a memoir to read like a novel?

As our six-day retreat unfolded, I began feeling that maybe a lack of structure might be the best structure to discover new direction.

Although she couldn't be with us in person, friend and memoir author and blogger Kathy Pooler joined us Friday night via Skype in our "circle" in the retreat house living room, warmed by a wood burning stove. We lit the "sangria sunset" scented candle as Kathy read an excerpt from her work-in-progress memoir about her son's battle with alcoholism.

Waking up in the morning to the aroma of coffee, the peel of laughter and women's voices in the sunporch, I wandered downstairs determined not to check my cell phone for the news stories of the day.

Janet, Merril and Marian share a similar journey of excitement and curiosity about establishing author platform, building blog subscribers, creating books.

I began blogging in 2008 . . . my journey as an author and writing instructor is marked now by some fatigue. Although we're in different places, kindred spirits can never go unappreciated nor fail to inspire the other.

On Saturday evening, authors Carol Bodensteiner and Mary Gottschalk arrived from Des Moines. I had met Carol before, but not Mary. The easy conversation and sharing reinforced that no path is the right or "best" for the creative spirit and mind – like the breezes of Chincoteague, the creative life is often structureless, amorphous, magical.

So I continue to wait for the muse . . . hold out for the promise of an unfolding writing journey and cherish the moments of my retreat.

How about you? Have you been on a writers' retreat? What are some of your memories?

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Susan G. Weidenerhttps://email@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-1121868384457002008.post-49505684498394218672016-03-14T09:55:00.001-04:002016-03-14T10:40:17.627-04:00The Evolution of the Women's Writing Circle
This past weekend the Women's Writing Circle held its first read around in our new home. Together we shared the spirit of the Circle, which is camaraderie and support of our writing journeys through a unique format known as the read around where we read aloud our work to the group.

This is our third 'home' since I started the Circle. The evolution of the Circle began with three women in an independent bookstore, Wellington Square, in November 2009. Over the years we have had as many as seventeen women attend read around, moved from the bookstore when we outgrew that space, to St. Andrew's Episcopal Church reading room. Saturday marked our first gathering, attended by fifteen writers, including myself, in our new location, the conservancy meeting room at the Hilton Garden Inn in Exton, featuring lovely amenities and easy access to the turnpike and surrounding communities.

I have tried to provide a forum for women to find their voices as writers. Over the years that mission often coincided with a healing journey through writing, including my own with my memoirs Again in a Heartbeat and Morning at Wellington Square.

The longer I held read arounds, critique and workshop sessions, the more I learned – and believed – writers needed and wanted a group whose emphasis was on developing and honing the craft of writing in a supportive environment. This marked our evolution into a true writing group.

I am a wordsmith, not a psychotherapist. Separating the psychological dynamics, the cries of anguish and grief from the actual writing was always difficult, if not impossible due to the highly personal nature of many of the stories read in the Circle. The courage it takes for many to share those deeply personal stories in the Circle is both uplifting and inspiring.

Still, I felt my role had to become more focused on the craft of writing and how a listening group of intelligent and discerning people could enhance the writing and help the writer understand the answer to that crucial question "What is my story about?"

At that same time, writers wanted "tips" on characterizations, details, description, narration and point of view, all writerly techniques. We also discussed the challenges inherent in finding the time to write, the nature of fear in writing and of overcoming other obstacles and challenges that led to developing confidence in our voices as writers.

While focusing on the individual writer, I try to make sure the group dynamics remain professional and educational, and not veer into a therapy session. As my own writing has evolved and I have written three books in five years, so has my interest in helping other writers through instruction and editing, and keeping the Circle thriving.

Our upcoming anthology, a joint endeavor with another writing group, Just Write, called Life Unexpected is also a great way to dip a toe into publishing and get out into the community with our stories. We learned a lot from our first anthology, Slants of Light: Stories and Poems From the Women's Writing Circle.

Over the years, I have watched writers come and go from the Circle. Many have left due to moving out of the area, losing interest in – say, writing a memoir, or just couldn't find the time to devote a Saturday morning to themselves with the pressures of work and family.

Others have left because the group has in some measure disappointed them or no longer fills a need. With some of the writers who I developed a close relationship, their decision to leave the group, often without explanation, was especially sad, but I have to accept that our journeys take different paths.

This is really the evolution of any worthy endeavor or undertaking in life – the mission forms over time and, hopefully, for the better.

This year I began offering memberships to the Women's Writing Circle. It had gotten tiresome for everyone to pass around the envelope and collect the money to participate; money which goes toward paying for the venue, for the time spent in organizing an undertaking of this complexity, and of giving the writer a sense of having some "skin in the game."

It was good to hear on Saturday how many writers like the concept of the yearly membership fee – they pay in full, can mark their calendars and be done with it. This is another change in the Circle. Payment is to be made in advance. This is clear on the website. Drop-ins are discouraged because I cannot gauge the number of writers if people simply show up on a given Saturday.

Memberships are almost completely sold out for the year. This forms a group of writers with continuity, but also leaves enough slots open in our classes for a couple new writers each session of the Circle. I encourage everyone to read the membership information and contact me if they have questions.

Together we offer what I feel has always made the Women's Writing Circle special – a place for women who are interested in writing to share in the love of the written word, explore their own writing journeys and meet new friends and network.

It is a space where we can gather and extend respect and caring – as well as develop our writing skills.

 As one writer noted, "Despite the fact that we come with many different personalities, ability levels and emotional experiences, it has always felt to me like the space is big enough for all because of our agreement to support one another."

It has been an honor and a privilege to have created with you a space like the Women's Writing Circle, which embodies community in a very isolating world. None of this would be possible without each other and I look forward to our time together this year. ~ Susan

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Susan G. Weidenerhttps://email@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-1121868384457002008.post-58368306958580516992016-02-29T10:29:00.004-05:002016-02-29T13:09:17.132-05:00Writing About Secrets - Your Own or Your Character's

We often avoid revealing and writing our deepest secrets. Why? The simplest answer: "If people knew that about me, they wouldn't like me."

It can be easier to couch our secrets in fiction – writing the story in third person, even though it is our own story we're sharing. Whether told in first or third person, secrets are portals to great storytelling and compelling characters.

They offer readers universal experiences; an addict doesn't want to reveal her addiction; a woman can't confess she was raped. In that sense, too, a trust develops between the writer and her readers.

Of course we all have information about ourselves we don't reveal to others. Not all truths need to be shared to live a healthy and happy life.

Revealing secrets – especially as memoir writers – requires gut-wrenching honesty. I tried to do that in Again in a Heartbeat when I shout at my dying husband, "I wish I'd never met you!" Once I wrote that and accepted my pain . . . I began forgiving myself.

In a short story for our new anthology Life Unexpected, I write about a woman who ponders a secret she long held from everyone but her closest family. As she remembers the pain of that time and place – it opens insight into her life; an appreciation for her choices and life's mysterious journey.

Sometimes, a meditative walk helps. I would stroll the River Walk in Tucson during my winter retreat there, pondering whether to tell her story in first or third person. After much reflection, I finally decided on third person - because it afforded more creative leeway.

Think about when and how to reveal a character's secret. At the beginning of the story, the middle? As a flashback, as a conversation with another character? And by doing so, does it add dimension to your character? My guess . . . it does, immeasurably.

In a Writer's Digest article about creating compelling characters, one ingredient in doing so is revealing a character's secret.

For your character, a secret is that inclination or trait (such as a psychological disposition to dishonesty, violence, sexual excess, or the abuse of alcohol or drugs, to name a few) or an incident from the past that, if revealed, would change forever the character's standing in her world, among co-workers, neighbors, friends, family, lovers. Secrets inform us of what our characters have to lose, and why.

Drawing on the example of Blanche Dubois (Streetcar Named Desire), her secret is that through drink and illicit sexual liaisons, she has become so emotionally and physically dissipated she could not hold on to the family home.

We are our own best source for understanding secrets. We know our own, and if we're insightful, we understand how they affect our behavior—specifically, how they make us afraid.

A key to writing a compelling character is showing her vulnerability. One of the best ways to do this is by allowing the character's deepest secret to be revealed. In that same article: "When people are wounded or in need of help, we are instantly drawn to them – it's a basic human reflex."

The article also contains helpful writing prompts to get you started on crafting interesting characters.

What about you? Have you written about a secret either as fiction or memoir? How did that work out?

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Susan G. Weidenerhttps://email@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-1121868384457002008.post-28418323428967803352016-02-22T08:34:00.001-05:002016-02-22T08:34:14.560-05:00The Writer's Life: Politics and Activism

In this season of presidential politics, I got to thinking about politics in writing. While some writers avoid "politics" in their books and blog posts, Facebook postings, etc., how can we as writers not view the world through a political prism - and, more importantly, express that to our readers?

Whether it is addiction and its impact on the family, terminating a pregnancy, the ramifications racism and sexism play in the ordinary, everyday life, writing about this is political.

While some might disparage politics (especially in light of the ugly tone it has taken) as distractions from a meaningful life, none of us can - or should - avoid a "political take" in memoir or fiction.

Offering the reader some "political" edge or angle to our story is crucial. Whether taking on authority figures, questioning the status quo, attempting to address and shine a light on poverty, discrimination, injustice, child abuse . . . the list goes on and on . . .we must do this in order to consider ourselves serious writers.

Politics and voice are complementary, offering the reader a window into our story and us, the author. This is what we called a "slant" in the news business. A story without a slant is flavorless and tepid.

For example, in A Portrait of Love and Honor, Jay questions in a classroom of cadets the meaning behind the war in Vietnam. "Are you saying that we have to burn the village in order to save it?" he asks the instructor. Challenging the status quo, he immediately sets himself up to be scapegoated and treated as a pariah. This develops the conflict in his story and ultimate journey and realizations.

In Morning at Wellington Square, I leave The Philadelphia Inquirer in light of the apparent discrimination going on in the newsroom – seeking to find meaning and a better life without the strife and "politics" inherent in age and sex discrimination. It offers a window into the narrator as a person who cannot live with that and moves on.

And in Again in a Heartbeat, politics – believing in myself and a woman's empowerment becomes one of the defining messages of that memoir. Widowhood is not a death sentence and we don't have to settle.

While I was in Tucson I read Gloria Steinem's new memoir My Life on the Road. As Steinem writes, "Whether among female villagers in India or college-age activists, the talking circle offers a roadmap to listening, learning and telling stories."

The power of the circle was central, she says, to igniting the modern American feminist and civil rights movements. It influenced her view of life, her parents, and the struggles of women then and yet to come.

When I think of what it takes to be a competent writer, I think of these circles. We are inspired by our shared and unpredictable journeys that lead to putting pen to paper and capturing the universal themes that make stories interesting and imaginative, as well as edgy and informative. Together we find strength and courage to confront the truth.

That's why I'm excited about the Women's Writing Circle resuming after a short winter hiatus on March 12. Together we'll be sharing our stories, offering support in the isolating world that is writing and learning writing strategies that help us move forward with our craft.

The power of the circle also resides in giving voice to our healing journeys and putting pen to our political lives. Truly, every good writer is an activist in his or her own way.

What about you. Do you inject 'politics' in one form or another into your writing? Or do you shy away from it? What are the challenges in presenting a voice and political edge to your writing?

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Susan G. Weidenerhttps://firstname.lastname@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-1121868384457002008.post-48930591475725148322016-02-08T11:31:00.004-05:002016-02-08T11:45:43.677-05:00The 'Artist's Way': Reaching Out To the Public

When I self-published my memoir Again in a Heartbeat, I did so for a couple reasons. As an unknown author who wasn't a celebrity, writing a memoir without "mainstream" or sensationalized appeal would probably not attract an agent or a publishing company. This proved true when I floated the synopsis of my book to several publishing companies – notably one that featured women's stories – and was turned down without even a request to see the manuscript.

I also enjoyed having complete creative control over my work.

Again in a Heartbeat – trade paperback or ebook – has gone on to sell or reach over 16,000 readers.

Fast forward five years since that book came out and I am fairly well known within certain memoir and writing circles. Through my own writing imprint – Writing Circle Press – I've published three books, two memoirs and a novel.

A writer can't depend on mainstream appeal or acceptance by the gatekeepers. Just like talking heads and pundits in the news media, gatekeepers pull out the "long knives" of criticism and deem themselves worthy of what is considered "art" and what isn't, often with a subjective agenda.

The artist follows her own journey, believes in her work and keeps working and writing. Achieving fame and fortune is not the artist's way . . . reaching the public is no matter how accomplished.

That's why I love visiting DeGrazia Gallery in the Sun.

A mud adobe hut in the middle of the Sonoran Desert in Tucson, this gallery often attracts me during my winter writing retreats in Arizona.

 For years, Ted DeGrazia struggled to earn a living. Although his work was featured in galleries in Mexico, the public generally ignored him, galleries here rejected him and art critics had little good to say about him.

Whether you like his work or not, DeGrazia's dedication to his craft is legendary. His routine began by going to the studio at 4 a.m. and finishing at 11 p.m. In the end, "success" came when Hallmark and UNICEF reproduced his work as Christmas and greeting cards.

DeGrazia built his gallery to show work that hadn't sold. It brims with ceramics and paintings whose subjects are as diverse as Yaki deer headdresses and rattles, Native American children dancing in a circle, the passion and crucifixion of Christ, cactus blooms and road runners. Before he died, DeGrazia made sure the museum would remain free and open to the public, his legacy for future generations to enjoy his artistic vision.

From Wikipedia:

DeGrazia remembered well the criticism he received in those early days from people who thought his art wasn't any good. Individuals did not like how DeGrazia followed his own rules in regards to art. On one occasion, DeGrazia was sitting in Rosita's Mexican restaurant (located next to his gallery) and a man walked in and shouted to him from across the room. He said," Hey! You DeGrazia?!" DeGrazia did not reply, and kept talking with his friend. The man, who obviously did not like DeGrazia, strode over to DeGrazia's table and interrupted him. He said to DeGrazia, "You're that guy who thinks you can paint on whatever you want, right? No rules, you just do whatever you want!"

Risk-taking, breaking rules and challenging traditional stereotypes often produce hostility and outrage. The independent writer who believes in her work and has faith in her creative vision may identify with this.

As a writer, I am inspired by a gallery that showcases not just art, but the belief in ourselves; truly "a place in the sun."

What are challenges you've encountered creating and publishing your work? How do you hope to reach the public?

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Susan G. Weidenerhttps://email@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-1121868384457002008.post-24566103128391374182016-02-01T12:39:00.003-05:002016-02-01T12:44:35.126-05:00Leaving 'Home' Inspires The Writer's Story
I rarely saw my mother leave the safe haven of her home without my father. She raised two children, drove to the food store, dabbled in volunteer work, took a part time job to earn self-described "pin money," and waited for my father to come home to start dinner.

Finally, when my parents were in their 50s – my father's work offered the opportunity to board the SS United States and take their first trip to Europe. When they returned, thrilled with the journey of sailing across the Atlantic and seeing the great cities, they embarked on several trips to Europe. The travel bug – although belated – had bitten and those trips represented high points of their lives.

But traveling alone like I do? It was simply out of the question for Mother, although once she boarded an Amtrak train to Washington DC by herself to visit me in college, something I wrote about in my memoir Morning at Wellington Square. That trip was an anomaly. She was too timid, too fearful to do anything without her husband.

As Gloria Steinem writes in her memoir:  My Life on the Road:
Home can also be a "dangerous place" for many reasons, not the least of which is that it can breed complacency and destroy curiosity. Perhaps the most revolutionary act, as Steinem suggests, is a "self-willed journey". Whether we leave the comfort of our homes or not, the writer's quest is cultivating an adventurous spirit.

When I was 21, I boarded a flight on Pan Am to London. I soon learned that traveling alone could be as lonely as exhilarating. But mostly, I realized that if I wanted to learn more about life, I would need to get out of my comfort zone and hit the road.

The death of my husband and my life as a widow – after I raised my sons – allowed me to become a solo traveler and fulfilled a lifelong dream that began when I was 21. Or maybe I was living the unfulfilled life of my mother.

On a recent trip to Prescott, Arizona, I walked into a bookstore . . . one of those places where a sense of community is pervasive. The bookstore owner's small dog sat behind the register.

I have always loved fridge magnets. I've picked up many on my travels. I can't tell you how many times they inspired comments. A favorite is one I bought on Long Beach Island, New Jersey. A woman in gingham apron wags her finger at two little girls in pigtails and warns, "Just remember the more you do, the more they expect."

 In this store in Prescott, I saw dozens of magnets displayed on a kiosk. Two stood out. As I went to the register to pay for them, the clerk, a man a little younger than me with unruly white hair down to his shoulders, grinned, "Love these," he said.

I was surprised as I have often steeled myself for the Hillary Haters. But he said he loved the depiction of her as Rosie the Riveter. And he also loved the one about writing because "it wasn't meant to be taken literally, but figuratively." I knew that, too, which is why I selected it.

We got to talking about risk-taking in writing, about politics and about the history of Prescott. It felt energizing to be 2,500 miles from home, in a small town about an hour from the Grand Canyon, chatting with a perfect stranger and finding a connection.

Writing energizes, it opens new possibilities, teaches us important lessons.

What does it mean to have an adventurous spirit? How does travel translate into our writing lives?

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Susan G. Weidenerhttps://firstname.lastname@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-1121868384457002008.post-5221755013398468372016-01-25T09:10:00.001-05:002016-01-25T10:17:44.725-05:00Does One Simplistic Marketing Message Hobble Your Book?

This past week I saw Room. The movie is based on the bestselling novel by Irish-Canadian author Emma Donoghue and has been nominated for best picture of the year. I had heard jokes about the nomination – the movie "no one saw." While critical reviews gave the movie 5-stars, it had pulled in a meager amount at the box office.

Apparently, the problem has been in how to market the movie . . . coming up with a simplistic message for a complex story.

Which begs the question: Does marketing one or two simplistic messages hobble your book as a work of art? (Assuming, of course, you consider your book to be art . . . a unique creative expression.)

My feeling . . . yes, it does.

In the article the Marketing Quest to Turn Room Into a Populist Hit, the film's distributors state:

"Even synopses became a problem. When people would talk about the film to their friends, the question is always: 'What is that movie about?' And as soon as you say, 'Oh, it's a woman who's in captivity who's had a child' – like, everything else you say seems to not matter. They focus on that."

"We tried to figure out, how do you shape the conversation? And how do you start to communicate that this is actually about a mother's love, and that it's about the child's love for his mother as much as it's about what's happened to them?"

Isn't this what often happens to authors? We've written a book with several compelling themes, yet we're supposed to distill our marketing message to one or two pithy sentences, turns of phrase . . . in hopes of attracting readers to buy our books.

After I wrote my memoirs and my novel, attempting to come up with a simple marketing message was harder than writing the actual books!

I often felt hobbled by trying to develop a concise 'one-liner.'

This was particularly true with my novel, A Portrait of Love and Honor, a novel based on a true story. All the marketing advice I read kept telling me to "find my audience" or "target your audience" . . . "be clear about your genre classification."

But what happens when your "audience" is somewhat indefinable . . . amorphous? When memoirs and stories appeal to both genders, different age groups, readers who enjoy a variety of genres.

Apparently, a succinct message challenges even seasoned filmmakers.

I'm feeling that boxing in a serious book with a simplistic marketing message is the stuff of social media and the condescending notion that audiences can't comprehend something more complex.

Maybe here's what we can do:

Concentrate less on the marketing hype and more on our job as a writer to create a good story with many themes. Whether 10 people or 10,000 people read your book, a good book eventually sparks good critical reviews and ultimately solves the "discoverability" factor.

Shape the "conversation"/perspectives about your book through a series of conversations: (blog posts, talks at signings, encounters with people who ask what your story is about) – not just one 'conversation'. I have tried this by emphasizing many themes in my books. I wanted to make sure people understood Again in a Heartbeat, for example, wasn't just a "cancer memoir," but also a love story.

Make your story a rewarding, multi-faceted experience for your readers.

After I finished viewing Room, I continued to think about the story long after I left the theater. Numerous questions and issues are raised . . .what motherhood means, those who would shame a woman for having a child out of wedlock (even one held in captivity and raped), how to come to terms with the outside world.

Maybe that's the message . . . there isn't one, but many . . . a great story defies categorization and leaves it up to the reader - the moviegoer - to decide.

What experiences have you had in marketing your book or work-in-progress? Do you feel hobbled by the emphasis on coming up with just one or two sentences describing your work? If not, why not? Your thoughts and comments are most welcomed.

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Susan G. Weidenerhttps://email@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-1121868384457002008.post-11636598435863556922016-01-18T10:55:00.001-05:002016-01-18T10:55:19.803-05:00Is Memoir Vanity or An Act of Love?

Not everyone understands why some write their memoirs. They dismiss it as narcissistic vanity. Why write something so personal they ask? Who cares?

Stories are my passion so I am biased that writing the truth of our stories is an act of love. In telling our stories, we accept our own imperfections, our flaws and our gifts. Hopefully, we bring to the conversation something which "speaks to" – maybe even enlightens – all of us. This is the alchemy, the magic – the transmutation – of life story writing: taking the chemical element that is lead and turning it into gold.

That said, not everyone is fascinated with hearing the truth. And writing our stories doesn't mean you hold the keys to truth, rather your truth, pardon the overused expression in the memoir community.

In my own memoir Again in a Heartbeat, I didn't glamorize myself or my marriage with John. I might have even taken it too far – becoming the "villain" for screaming at my dying husband – "I wish I'd never met you!".

It was an act of bravery for me to reveal how much pain I was in at the prospect of imminent loss by portraying my own vulnerability in hopes it might give others going through a similar journey the knowledge they're not alone.

As writers we take on the role of "truth speaker." Yet, we know what often happened to those. They were burned at the stake. Still, this is our goal as writers. To speak the truth as best we can, to move out of the way and let the message resonate with our readers.

This "confidence of voice" has been especially challenging for women.

In Lena Dunham's bestselling memoir,  Not That Kind of Girl, a young woman tells you what she's 'learned', she writes:

"There is nothing gutsier to me than a person announcing that their story is one that deserves to be told, especially if that person is a woman. As hard as we have worked and as far as we have come, there are still so many forces conspiring to tell women that our concerns are petty, our opinions aren't needed, that we lack the gravitas necessary for our stories to matter. That personal writing by women is no more than an exercise in vanity and that we should appreciate this new world for women, sit down, and shut up."
Silencing confident women remains prevalent.

So . . . not only do writers need to think outside the box, but how their stories might be in service to others as a way to help others speak.  In my memoir, Morning at Wellington Square, I tried to portray coming to terms with loss by giving back, using my gifts and talents in community.This became the Women's Writing Circle, a group which I believe - and hope - offers women a chance to share their stories in camaraderie and support, as well as offer an instructional environment in the craft of writing.

There is a great deal of difference between self-love and excessive interest in oneself.

I have either led or been in writing groups where writers forgo their talents and insights to rant about past hurts or wounds. They get so caught up in anger, they forget to honor the healing aspects of their stories. Like a two-year-old child demanding attention, they indulge in the narcissism of "me, me, me" . . .

Religious mystics and contemplatives have always known this: the deeper you go, the more you spiral both down and up in your journey.

The creative medium that is writing leads to awakening - and opens the writer to the great possibility of connecting with others. It's a joy and maybe even the ultimate act of love.

Artwork today and last week on this blog by Philadelphia/Tucson artist Marcie Feldman.

Your thoughts and comments are most welcomed.

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Susan G. Weidenerhttps://firstname.lastname@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-1121868384457002008.post-30649176859362728682016-01-11T11:21:00.001-05:002016-01-11T11:21:18.319-05:00The Adventurous 'Life Unexpected' of the Writer

What risks have you taken as a writer? Has your sense of adventure led you "home". . . or has your adventurousness idled by the roadside, grounding you to one barren and stagnant place?

As I wrote on this blog last week, women writers are creating an anthology with stories and poems that frame the life unexpected . . .

What happened that you never saw coming and how did that change your life?

As writers we explore the "life unexpected". . . its surprises—welcome or unwelcome—unplanned adventures, twists and turns that lead to new discoveries and personal revelations in changing and challenging times.

This "mantra" brings me "home" to Arizona.

How could I know, Arizona, that you would lead me through all the losses? The loss of the whisper of expectation that comes with a new morning; the resignation when possibilities of love begin to fade like a withered rose with age.

In the distance the Catalina Mountains this January morning are covered with a lacy shawl of clouds. For the past 10 years I've traveled from the frigid winters of Pennsylvania where it got dark early and left me alone with my thoughts, to this place in the sun.

The Southwest called me like so many wanderers and adventurous and brave women before me. Remember Georgia O'Keeffe?

Here I could forget . . . seek rest from the losses. My husband's gentle touch, my brother's joking voice, my mother's throaty laugh, my father's serene blue eyes.

I think of my mother . . . some might call her a foolish, timid woman, myself included. Mother wouldn't have traveled like I, alone in my sixth decade to a place like this, the exotic, the desert, few friends, no rigid schedule that must be adhered, just soft morning light, fuchsia bougainvillea in bloom, a wizened old lady carrying all her belongings in a plastic shopping bag slowly making her way down Oracle Road.

What surprised me was when I looked in the mirror and saw my mother. Even my hands have begun to look like hers, worn and wrinkled now from years of washing dishes, tending gardens, cleaning house, cleaning up after children.

I remember being seven years old . . . running through an open field of Queen Anne's lace on a July morning near Stroudsburg, Pennsylvania. Like other little girls – like my mother and her mother before her, I dreamed of castles in the sky, men on white horses . . .

For women of my generation, trailblazing meant the uncharted territory of feminism. I planned to travel the world, embark on a meaningful career, maybe, if I was lucky, raise a family. Do it all! How could I know time and circumstances would wear me down – a big black wave washing over me as the losses mounted.

Then I was back in the sunlight, back in Arizona. Tucson – a contrast of unrivaled mountainous and desert splendor, poverty of the homeless and the disenfranchised. Here in moonlit canyons and starlit skies reaching as far as the eye can see, in breath-taking "postcard" sunrises, I am home – back to Susan.

"The art of losing isn't hard to master; so many things seem filled with the intent to be lost that their loss is no disaster." ~ Elizabeth Bishop, American poet.

Our Women's Writing Circle, our writing, leads us to memories that invoke powerful connections with others . . .we write about our perceptions of the world, as much as our feelings. We write our history, our baggage. This is the promise, the risk and the adventure of writing our stories. We conquer the losses.

I wish this for you, fellow writers. Take a risk! Indulge in an adventure, shake it up . . . and explore the life unexpected.

What risks have you taken with your writing? What stories came unexpectedly but begged to be told? Your comments, thoughts, most welcome.

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Susan G. Weidenerhttps://firstname.lastname@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-1121868384457002008.post-15387413312786873692016-01-04T09:31:00.001-05:002016-01-04T09:57:53.807-05:00A New Year, New Writing, A New Anthology

With endings come beginnings. As we welcome in 2016, the Women's Writing Circle is embarking on a new creative journey . . . a collaboration with Just Write, a writing group here in the Philadelphia area. Together we are writing an anthology of memoirs, creative non-fiction, fiction and poems, tentatively titled Life Unexpected.

Could we ever imagine where our lives would lead us? This question offers a framework and synopsis of our book; a contemporary and modern insight into women's lives, women's voices.

We plan. We dream. We imagine and say, 'what if'. Then one day something - or maybe everything - changes. How did you get where you are now?

What happened that you never saw coming and how did that change your life? This rich anthology explores the "life unexpected". . . its surprises—welcome or unwelcome—unplanned adventures, twists and turns that lead to new discoveries and personal revelations in changing and challenging times.

"The art of life is not controlling what happens to us, but using what happens to us." ~ Gloria Steinem

Our first collaboration, Slants of Light: Stories and Poems From the Women's Writing Circle, was released in April 2013. Written by 15 women writers, this anthology provided an avenue to share our memoirs, poetry and fiction at signings and talks in the community – and call ourselves published authors. Our voices rang with confidence and clarity.

Yesterday, in the afternoon light of wintertime, several of us charged with crafting the framework of this new book met at the office of Citizen Advocacy, a nonprofit located in Phoenixville, Pennsylvania, of which our anthology core committee member, Ginger Murphy, is coordinator.

Patty Kline-Capaldo, who heads up Just Write, which meets weekly in an independent bookstore in Collegeville, enthusiastically engaged in bringing new writers from her group onboard, as well as researching publishing options for our book. Also serving on our core committee are authors, Rae Theodore and Maureen Barry.

Ginger and Patty

Life Unexpected has generated interest among 23 possible contributors, many of them members of the Women's Writing Circle . . . dedicated and talented writers who contributed to Slants of Light. A letter with contract detailing deadlines for submission and editing is coming out soon.

The collaborative aspects we enjoyed yesterday brought back memories of my days at The Philadelphia Inquirer. Reporters and editors worked together as a team to bring news and narratives to the reading public. Each provided individual and unique talents and strengths. I am passionate about this work and love brainstorming with kindred spirits and writers.

We live in a world too often in the shadow of despair, depression and anxiety. Tending and cherishing our creative lives – watering our gardens along the pilgrim's way – is one of the great gifts life offers. A new year offers new writing, a new you . . .

"It is for us to pray not for tasks equal to our powers, but for powers equal to our tasks, to go forward with a great desire forever beating at the door of our hearts as we travel toward our distant goal." ~ Helen Keller

Your comments, questions and thoughts are most welcomed.

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Susan G. Weidenerhttps://firstname.lastname@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-1121868384457002008.post-34536867159313348962015-12-21T08:46:00.000-05:002015-12-21T16:42:33.877-05:00Women's Writing Circle and Looking Toward A New Year

We're all struggling and we do our best to manage. As Bob Dylan said, we're looking for that "shelter from the storm."
Writing, along with a place to support other women, is that shelter.

All of us are truckin' on. The Circle plays a rewarding role in that challenge and journey and I intend to do all I can to keep our space thriving and meaningful. While women are often harder on other women than they are on men, friendship among women is fierce and vibrant. It is ongoing throughout our lives. We are bound together by a shared experience that a man can never truly appreciate.

Our final read around for 2015 was inspiring and energizing. Our voices and stories rang with humor, joy, sadness and the amazing and adventurous journey of the feminine.

Together we empower and offer each other a bit of sustenance necessary in this life to keep on living . . . one day at a time, one foot in front of another.

In May we left our "home" of five years, Wellington Square Bookshop. (We had outgrown the space there). We moved to the privacy of the reading room at St. Andrew's Episcopal Church.

We kept reading, writing and sharing. We worked toward healing, finding our voice, making the reader what poet Mary Oliver calls "the experiencer."

Writing is a lifeline, an escape from the boredom, the tedium of every day living and a respite from those we must endure.

Two years ago I wrote a blog post Every Writer Needs a Bit of 'Paris'. It became one of the most popular blog posts on this site. For me, Arizona is a place to renew and restore. I'm leaving in January, but will be back in March to continue with our Circle.

A January 9 read around will be held at the beautiful West Chester home of long-time Women's Writing Circle contributor Diane Yannick. We will not meet in February.

In the coming weeks, I'll be announcing changes to the Women's Writing Circle. Passing around the envelope has made me feel a bit like a money collector and I prefer not to do that anymore. Finding the best location that meets the needs of our writers and is affordable continues to be a challenge.<o:p></o:p>

Changes in 2016 will include a new location and annual membership dues to participate in Women's Writing Circle read arounds, critiques and workshops. Stay tuned through our newsletter.

Mary Oliver also said that writers often give up what is "most strange and wonderful about their writing - soften their roughest edges to accommodate themselves toward the group response . . ." The Circle remains a safe haven where, hopefully, we don't ever have to do that.

So to all the wonderful writers who make the Circle that necessary life raft and shelter from the storm, a very Happy New Year from Lily and me.

Your thoughts, comments and reflections are most welcomed

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Susan G. Weidenerhttps://firstname.lastname@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-1121868384457002008.post-27930697062883335572015-12-14T08:41:00.004-05:002015-12-14T09:06:26.053-05:00Facebook Is A 'Cocktail Party' and More on Social Media

Think of your writing as a way to reach other people. Our readers are all that matters. Being an author these days is a business, just like any other. It means marketing, marketing, marketing. Marketing takes away from writing time. It is what it is.

For the author entrepreneur, it becomes essential to utilize social media and understand how each generation uses it.

I recently attended a social media marketing workshop for women starting or already established in their own small businesses. Some highlights and facts about posting your business content geared to the generations:

Baby Boomers (born between 1945 and 1960) and those born into the World War II or "greatest generation" spend more time consuming content on blogs and YouTube than Millennials (1981-2000).

Gen-Xers (1961-1980) prefer Twitter to any other social media platform.

Teenagers have shifted from Facebook and Twitter to Instagram and Snapchat.

The best day to post on Twitter is Wednesday.

Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday from 7:30-8:30 a.m. and 5 and 6 p.m. are optimal for LinkedIn.

Baby Boomers consume most of their content online between 9 a.m. and noon; Millennials and Gen-Xers between 8 a.m. and noon.

Best days to post on Facebook are Sunday, Thursday, Friday and Saturday. The most 'clicks' are at 3 p.m. on those days and the most shares at 1 p.m.

The best platform to curate articles is LinkedIn.

(Information, provided by SCORE of Chester and Delaware counties, Pennsylvania, is from surveys by Buzz Stream and Fractl.)

Social media may have become "dirty words" for some, but for women owning or operating their own businesses, it is an economical and essential tool. Online users continue to increase and expand.

Websites and blogs are foundations to who you are and what you are selling.

Blogs need great images and great content. As one of the moderators at the panel noted: "If you don't have a blog, consider starting one. A website is essential."

Blogs that inform and engage in storytelling and are posted on a regularly scheduled basis are most effective. And it is encouraging to know that Baby Boomers – my generation – are the largest age demographic reading blogs.

This past week on Google Plus, my author profile surpassed 800,000 views. The Women's Writing Circle blog and website has over 500 followers and receives over 4,000 views a month. On Twitter I no longer have to seek out followers, they find me.

That said, there is much more that I could be doing, but either don't have the time or expertise; (for example, posting videos online.) I don't plan to get into a frenzy over social media and what I'm doing or not doing. It's progress that I'm doing it as well as I am. And there's always time and room for improvement.

As one SCORE panelist said: "Facebook is a cocktail party." While you can use your wide variety of contacts from friends and family to bring them into "your selling space," never forget that it's about social engagement.

"Overselling" is not only boring, it lacks the warmth to build relationships with future contacts and clients. Value each new person and don't shout to the world "how great you are." .

More advice from this forum:

Boost your posts on Facebook: spend $5 or $10 to boost a post targeted to a specific audience. Paid advertising is a way to break through Facebook's ever-changing algorithms.

Become an "expert" in your field. This is achieved by appearing as guest blogger, becoming a regular contributing commenter on other blogs in your field and always writing great and informative articles.

Memes are going viral every day. Social media is ubiquitous. Knowing which apps to use and which not are all part of a huge and shape shifting landscape that no one person can be expected to master.

This past month, a half dozen people reached out to me for editing or memoir writing services after finding me through a Google search or our Women's Writing Circle Facebook page.

Would they have found me otherwise? Maybe. Maybe not. Meanwhile, I'm encouraged to keep hanging out at the "cocktail party."

How about you? Your comments, thoughts and reflections are most welcomed.

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Susan G. Weidenerhttps://firstname.lastname@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-1121868384457002008.post-51739287637447847922015-12-07T14:50:00.003-05:002015-12-07T14:50:26.071-05:00NaNoWriMo - My 3,600 Words and What I Learned

First off, no, I did not get to 50,000 words. Not even close.

Second off, did I learn anything from my National Novel Writing Month experience? Yes. Read on.

Early on, within the first week of my NaNoWriMo journey, the unthinkable happened. I accidentally deleted the entire 4,300 word file that was my novel. I had violated my own first rule of writing – backup, backup, backup.

After a whole Sunday afternoon and evening of futilely attempting to recover, I accepted the fact that my first draft had ended up in the recycle bin with a bunch of other files and photos I had deleted . . . and once deleted . . . gone forever.

As a journalist who is used to working under deadlines and, in fact, needs them in order to motivate herself, I felt adrift. Nothing to show for my efforts.

I hadn't lost the great American novel, but I had deleted some good work and with it much of my motivation and enthusiasm to continue along the NaNoWriMo trail, especially as others gleefully proclaimed on the blogosphere, "I'm up to 23,000 words after 10 days!"

I posted my experience of deleting my draft on Facebook and one friend commiserated: Lordy, Lordy, girl. Hope you can get it back somehow. If not, I'm SURE there are a great many more than 4,200 words in you - at the ready - clamoring to to get out. That said, the idea of just randomly losing what I've written is right up there at the top of "My Worst Nightmares" list .

That, didn't make me feel better. Sadly, pathetically, I was now eight days behind . . . or more than 16,000 words behind where I "should" have been after week one in the quest to write a 50,000 word novel in 30 days. (I know. Ridiculous!)

So, it was back to the proverbial square one. Take a deep breath and begin again from the blank page.

I knew there was something there – the story unfolding of two very different, but connected women – an Episcopal priest and a writer . . . much of my story being forged by my own life encounters, as well as the many newspapers I read every day, articles about politics and the culture wars.

I was doing what those in the NaNoWriMo culture advised – writing again with an uncensored pen.

What I began learning is that working on this book was very much like writing my last three books. I need to feel inspired by – passionate about this story. And I wasn't . . . until last week when NaNoWriMo was all over and I started rereading my second "first" draft.

This time I had gotten up to 3,600 words and liked what I was reading. There was something useful there, something of an interesting story developing.

So here's what I learned from NaNoWriMo:

It's a gimmick, but an interesting one and by trying it out I've come up with some good "fiction".

I'm not interested in turning words out like widgets.

I am – and have always been, especially the older I get – adverse to competition. The only competition that drives me is the competition within myself.

I'm not in need of finding a community of writers (cheerleaders) online. I don't have the time to get involved with chat rooms and online groups to share status reports and updates.

I don't worry too much about the wording, the descriptions or the details and joined the spirit of the event by writing with an uncensored pen. I can go back later and hone, refine, but the important thing . . . get the thoughts and the ideas down while fresh in my mind.

I may need to get out my small tape recorder and start talking into it, capturing my thoughts at mid-day, in the evening before dinner..

Fortunately or unfortunately, for me, events and real experiences in my life drive my writing. At heart, I am a nonfiction writer, but whoever pretended that most novels aren't based in memoir or nonfiction? Not me, that's for sure.

 ****
Yes, life is like a box of chocolates. You never know what you're going to get when you start writing fiction. That's half the fun of it. You don't have to worry about accuracy like you do in memoir.

It feels really good to have a writing project. That is one truism that has never changed for me since I was thirteen years old and began writing love letters to Paul McCartney – the time flies when I'm writing.

And now, really, who can ask for more than that? So, yes, in that regard, thank you NaNoWriMo.

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Susan G. Weidenerhttps://email@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-1121868384457002008.post-18123208876397718062015-11-30T09:12:00.001-05:002015-11-30T09:31:21.563-05:00How Story Helps Break Our 'Addiction' to the Past

He was despondent, but hopeful that his story could shed light on himself and the people he most loved; those same people who had "addicted" him to bad behaviors.

He wanted to write this without watering it down so he called it fiction. This way he could embellish, although, of course the story was his memoir and "embellishment" wasn't really that at all, but the truth.

He was still living this story . . . it haunted him at times, He was "addicted" to the past, but the good news . . . he had begun to nurture and take care of himself, and, in doing so, come to terms with the demons of his past.

Then he learned he was losing his grasp on that most precious of commodities . . . time.

His time was running out. He had to write it all down before it was too late. This was my late husband, John M. Cavalieri's story, told through the character of Jay Scioli in A Portrait of Love and Honor.

But, in truth, Jay could be any of us who long to write our story. In my experience as a memoir writing coach and teacher, I've heard how story offers a second chance, if not to make it "right" . . . then to at least lift the veil, break the addiction to the past, and move forward.

Hope drives our stories . . . hope that we can make sense of our lives and understand those who most impacted us. These are the people we search for in our stories, our narratives. They teach us – and our readers. Through delving into people and the institutions or values they represent, we remove the "symbols" of our former lives.

Maybe if we understand our past, we have the ability to understand our present.

By writing his memoir, Jay moves toward a greater understanding of himself and impersonal systems, including the military establishment that tarnished the dream he once coveted – a career as an officer in the United States Army.

"If only I'd understood in those last months there that my naïve notion of being some celluloid, combat hero, had nothing to do with understanding myself . . . that it was an adolescent dream." ~ A Portrait of Love and Honor

For me, personally, I realize now that in both my memoirs, Again in a Heartbeat and Morning at Wellington Square, there was much I didn't say.

Those memoirs were written "at that time, at that place". They offered a second chance . . . going back to the past and finding the redemption I needed to move forward . . . while, hopefully, offering readers lessons to be learned.

It is an uphill battle, yet story helps us break through the turmoil; to stretch ourselves and reach for the light in our quest to move beyond the past.

I'll be giving a talk on Wednesday, Dec. 2 at St. Mark Episcopal Church in Honey Brook on the power of story. A light supper is at 6 followed by my talk at 6:45. I hope you can join us.

Your thoughts and comments are most welcomed.

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Susan G. Weidenerhttps://email@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-1121868384457002008.post-75504307765770037492015-11-23T09:09:00.002-05:002015-11-23T09:09:43.729-05:00How Our Story Encourages Others To Tell Theirs

With the coming of Advent, I've been asked to give a presentation on the power of story at my church, St. Mark in Honey Brook, Pennsylvania.

Advent starts four Sundays before Christmas. In Latin 'advent' means "coming" or the arrival of a notable event or person. In the Christian tradition, it marks the anticipation and arrival of Jesus, as well as anticipation of his second coming as the Messiah. No words are needed to express the power of this story.

What about our own stories? Does sharing our story encourage others to share theirs?

Studies have often shown that we are wired to remember stories more than data, facts or figures. In this country, the media capitalizes on that – on sensational narratives that have no basis in reality, yet capture the attention of their audience on any given day and take precedence over facts and accurate reporting.

Story gives us an opening to teach or persuade – but, mostly, learn more about ourselves and others. If done with goodwill and intent, this is a gift.

In a world where forbearance has become a necessity of survival, sharing our stories offers renewal and reasons to be grateful.

I was recently approached by a woman in my exercise class. She had heard I was an author and had taken my memoir, Again in a Heartbeat, out of the library. She told me she liked it because it was "the kind of book you can read" meaning she was able to pick it up and finish it without a lot of effort. Then she asked: "Did your sons read it? And, if so, what did they think? Were they upset with some of it?"

I'd been asked this question before, but truth be told it wasn't until last year – almost four years after the book's publication – that my sons read it. Fortunately, they enjoyed it and seemed to have a "greater appreciation" as my younger son put it for what I went through watching their father die and then having to tackle the job of single mother.

This got me thinking again how grateful I am each time someone approaches me on a personal level and asks a meaningful question. But I suspect this is not just because they are interested in my story, but, rather because they wonder how their own children or family might react to their story – their "truth" to quote a popular memoir phrase.

The answer is that it probably doesn't matter. The "power" of a story resides in a narrative that brings both the storyteller and her audience together, sometimes in a transformational way.

As a bit of a shameless plug, I am offering a two-hour session on how to get started writing your story, something I do either in person or on the phone. Both myself and the person I'm working with are almost always surprised by what we find – that the story they thought they were going to write bears little or no resemblance to the story they actually long to write.

During this Advent season, which begins Nov. 29, I'm looking forward to talking about how powerful our stories can be.

If you're in the area, please join me and the good folks at St. Mark Episcopal Church at 6 p.m. on Dec. 2 for a light supper, followed by my talk.

And maybe, if we're lucky, someone will tell his or her story – and, for that, we are all richer.

Your thoughts, comments and reflections are most welcomed.

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Susan G. Weidenerhttps://firstname.lastname@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-1121868384457002008.post-26874323424727191582015-11-16T08:41:00.000-05:002015-11-16T08:41:14.375-05:00A Woman Draws 'Strength and Inspiration' From the Circle

Writing groups attract storytellers. They provide the community that fosters the fortitude to write and read our stories.

This month we celebrate the 6th anniversary of our Women's Writing Circle. With all that is happening in the world, writing and sharing our stories becomes ever more enriching and powerful. Since I began this blog in 2009, a multitude of posts, written by myself and other writers, speak to the premise that we can make a difference through the legacy of story.

With the permission of Flo Shore, who has been attending the Circle from the start and who contributed to our anthology, Slants of Light: Stories and Poems From the Women's Writing Circle, I am sharing her special tribute to the Women's Writing Circle. Needless to say, it speaks to all of us and boosts my spirits and, I hope, yours as well. ~ Susan

"Becoming part of the Women's Writing Circle has been one of the most significant and freeing experiences of my adult life. First and foremost, I'm so incredibly grateful for the camaraderie with such great women who also happen to be great women writers. I am also thankful for having had the experience of self- publishing. Although the editing process was harrowing and at times overwhelming, I learned firsthand how the smallest kernel of an idea can take shape and evolve into a beautiful story.

In my case, it was the story of a young girl befriended by a butterfly. Thanks to this nurturing yet challenging environment that young girl had a little something about the real her immortalized on paper.

Memoir not only keeps our individual stories alive for those who come after us; memoir serves as an adhesive that keeps pieces of social history intact. Like a great montage these essential snippets can also illustrate who we are in relation to the times in which we live.

As waves of ideology sweep across an era, those who view that period at a later date or from a very different vantage point can often fall prey to generalized conclusions. The vehicle of memoir can frequently serve to dispel myths and expose varying perspectives.

Flo on far right with the women of the Circle.

As memoirists, we have the opportunity to drive attitude change.

In my current stage of life I liken myself to a person who comes home one day to find that my home has been demolished by a fire or flood. As I survey all that that once represented a vibrant life and career, I feel as though I am starting from scratch. So, as I pull a few charred photographs and bric-a-brac from the rubble I pray that I can be up to the challenge of a rebuild. Can I reverse engineer the core of my being? Who or what do I actually hope to become? I remind myself that I am not spiritually destitute.

Taking part in the Women's Writing Circle has provided me with an opportunity to belong to a very special community. Although my work schedule is somewhat unforgiving, I have been able to find time for putting my thoughts on paper here and there. The strength and inspiration I have drawn from this circle provides me with the fortitude to write when I can and to give myself permission to call myself a writer."

Your thoughts, comments and reflections are most welcomed.

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Susan G. Weidenerhttps://email@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-1121868384457002008.post-43569512400543570522015-11-10T07:39:00.001-05:002015-11-10T08:20:00.481-05:00Memoir Class Concludes: Reaching An Audience

Our four-week memoir class at Lower Providence Community Library ended last night with read around. We read a scene from our memoirs-in-progress and in the reading found that our stories resonated and the power of the written word – and finding an audience – connects us in a way like no other.

A life that may not be viewed as "extraordinary," nevertheless, always proves interesting and elucidating, if told with care and skill . . . humor behind the grim confrontation with death; the realization that 'friends' aren't always who we thought they were; power and corruption destroy the lives of innocent children; it's never too late to take a risk and get back 'on stage' and pursue our dreams and passions . . . a sampling of stories and themes brought to our read around on a warm November night in a library tucked away in a wooded enclave.

The vibrant interest in memoir and the memoir 'movement' represents a collaborative community in a very isolating world. For me, it's about sharing talents, expertise and teaching strategies to help others write their stories; not about egos and making money.

As a teacher I've drawn on many resources, as well as my own experiences and lesson plans. One of the reasons I'm blogging my memoir curriculum is so others can use it if they want in their own classes and writing groups.

This group of men and women reflected on the writing process last night; a process, they agreed, was often fraught with hesitation because some memories may be too painful to pursue . . . while others represent a pathway back to the past, an insight into what made that moment so compelling and a turning point.

It's easy to put off the writing, to procrastinate. As our class writing 'deadline' approached, several writers found themselves penning a piece just a day or even a couple hours before the class. The 'takeaway' – writing takes discipline and means picking up pen, opening the laptop and confronting the blank page.

Among the many things we discovered about the craft of writing:

Reflection is the memoirist's 'job'.

Voice is unique to the narrator.

Details – names, ages, colors, sights, sounds and smells - enhance the writing and invite the reader into our story.

Lively and true dialogue is a must in making a scene/relationship come alive.

Show, don't tell. Create a portrait of one person and it helps us see through the crowd of faces.

Vignettes work as long as presented throughout the memoir with a unifying theme or thread.

The takeaway at the end of a scene or vignette ties the piece together. It's the lesson we proffer to our reader.

As a way to avoid 'sidetrips'and lack of focus, the writer must keep referring back to that all-important question: What is my story about?

Writing requires discipline. Even if we only set aside 15 or 30 minutes a day and write two or three paragraphs, we have something after a week, a month . . . and so much more.

We also discussed the importance of a quiet and sacred writing space. It's okay to say 'no' to others who otherwise demand our time and attention even if we need to hang a sign on our door that says, do not enter, do not disturb.

Although time did not permit me to go into a discussion on publishing, I did provide a handout on the merits of independent publishing vs. traditional publishing. The question of timeliness arose and, yes, some memoirs are poised to "take off" with an eye toward current political and social situations of the day.

I concluded our class by reading from Mary Karr's The Art of Memoir: "Just picking up pen makes you part of a tradition of writers that dates thousands of years back and includes Homer and Toni Morrison and cave artists sketching buffalo."

None of us can ever know how our writing, our scribbling, might touch or change another. As writers we are making this world – one person, one page at a time – a better place. I thank each of you for that gift.

Your thoughts and comments are most welcomed.

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