the other mother - free writing workshop for moms

Contest! Brought to you by the letter P

bird of paradise (Strelitzia)

School's almost out, the cocoons have hatched into moths and butterflies, the air conditioners hum and the grass sings with insects that will live very short, lovely lives.

Time for a little contest.

It's little because you only have to write two paragraphs. I'll give you a topic, and you can write for as long as you want (or 23 minutes, if you need a limit), but then take your work off into the outside world and hone two paragraphs for me, make them your best.

The winner gets:

• a) the honor of being the first ever Moms Who Write Summer Contest winner
• b) a fabulous car magnet featuring The Other Mother book jacket, so you'll always know which minivan is yours in the parking lot and
• c) an adorable little box of chocolates.

It isn't huge, but it's good. 4 runners-up get car magnets and can call themselves runners-up in any desired social event.

Take your new status to the Hamptons! Or the Shore! Or the Cape! Or the backyard sprinkler! Fire hydrant! If there's enough interest, I'll send out five fridge magnets as well, but mostly I'm hoping to get your best paragraphs. Don't be shy. Write, hone, post. The closing date is TBA.

Enough details. Now more details:

Yesterday my daughter and I were talking about the plum tree, about how for one week we get an explosion of fragrant flowers, then the next week a plethora of pink petal precipitation, and then, which is now, some perfect purple plums. Sure, they're ornamental, but we've used them as a sort of snack since we had a Persian babysitter who ate them by the bushel, and told us, "If I don't come to work tomorrow, they weren't good to eat." She came back. If you're out there now, Nooshin, we're thinking of you!

So summer means perfect purple plums around here. When I lived in San Diego it meant Santa Anas blustering the night-blooming jasmine and the hot dry wind making your throat ache for the east. June Gloom. In San Francisco the single bird of paradise plant bloomed in the tiny little space between our earthquake shack and the apartment building next door. One square foot of dirt enclosed by walls and a bird of paradise perched there.

This week's writing topic: What is June for you? Write your June, perfect plums or terrible rains. Then post your two paragraphs. Have at it. If you have been lurking, this is the time to post!

Oh, Italia!

ravioli gnudi burro salviac parmigiano
image credit: trozbo : cc-2.0-nc-sa

I've never been to Italy, but I was recently invited to a fantastic event hosted by Kim Orlando of Traveling Mom.com, Beth Feldman of RoleMommy.com, and Andrea Sertoli at Select Italy, his Soho loft/cooking school. First, let me say it was like entering a geode; from Bowery and a nondescript entryway and elevator to an open-armed loft filled with lovely company, extraordinary good will and hospitality, a vast square table that seated about 30 of us, and exquisite food.

I learned to make a little edible cheese basket for salads (we all did; some of the women writers dancing more fervently than others to cool the cheese/polenta mixture in the pan), red snapper baked in foil, and the adorably-named gnudi, pasta sans pasta--just the filling (oh, the filling!) piped out of pastry sleeves, then boiled, then baked.

Yum! Yum! Not just the food, but the conversation. I knew one woman there when I arrived (though it turns out I knew some from cyberspace...or they knew me, and then meeting them in all three dimensions was a joy), and a whole roomful when I left.

I wish I was having a catered affair so I could hire the charming Andrea Tiberi (it was a night of several Andreas), but if you live in the Tri-state area, I highly recommend that you do. I was also very tempted by all the Select Italy tours--making frescos with your family! Driving a Ferrari on the Italian roads! (okay, maybe not that one, though it looked scenic) Hiking in the Italian Alps! Definitely on my someday to do list.

Meanwhile...

This week's writing topic: Write about a place you've never been. Write for twenty minutes. As a bonus topic, make a list of trips you've taken--disastrous, fabulous, enchanting, nauseating...choose one to write about for another twenty.

And if you feel like sharing, that is, about a nonfictional trip, go visit Traveling Mom. You might just publish an essay with her, and inspire (or warn!) the rest of us. Happy Spring, writers on and all!

Boiled peanuts

It's hilarious, actually, if you say it over and over. Maybe even if you say it once. We went to visit Mom in Florida, northern Florida, so far north it's almost Georgia and you can get boiled peanuts and honeybells at a roadside stand.

Live oaks, Spanish moss, saltmarsh and egrets. I walked on the beach too much and my ankle ached but I loved it. This was the kite trip--I got one for each kid and they took them out on the beach (my husband, too) and flew the rainbows up over the sand.

I don't know about y'all, but I've been able to work only if I make shorter deadlines for myself. Maybe it's the lack of sunlight, but I need to feel accomplishment after, say, 10 pages. After, say, three loads of laundry. After, say, six emails and a single page of writing. It works, though, the small deadlines. It keeps me going while March marches in and there's still snow on the ground. Speaking of which...

This week's writing topic: Do some small ritual of writing (invent one if you don't have one--I don't) like touching the silver elephant (Ganesh?) you wear around your neck or turning once clockwise or looking out the window for a full thirty seconds. Then write, for 11 minutes, about melting.

filling the feeders, setting the jam

Not that I'm doing the latter. And I think it's putting up the jam, which is beautiful. Anyone know the correct idioms here?

Okay, so what I'm really doing is packing up a little backpack as if I were going on an expedition (expotition, said Pooh), but in fact (dental floss, notebook, eyedrops, pens, knitting project, etc) I'm getting ready to have ankle surgery.

All this is to say I might not be posting as frequently as I might like for a little bit, though I imagine after about two days I'll be very, very weary of recovery time. Knitting seems appealing, but so does not showing up for the bone graft and ligament reattachment bit.

Hey, that's not entirely unlike knitting. So I'm going to give you three writing practice tips, spontaneous in nature and not necessarily directly related to writing practice, but yes, to the practice of writing.

Then I'll give you three topics, just in case it takes me three weeks to come back. Post, though, tell your friends; I'll come back and drink up your words.

Three writing practice tips:

1. Fall in love with revision.
   It's your chance to reinvent the universe. And if you want to publish, you'll be asked to revise; it's best to enjoy it as much as you can.
2. Don't worry about what other people will think.
   In fact, don't worry at all. If you don't suck the marrow out of your material, it'll be dry bones. Worry, editing, vetting is for later (see number 1).
3. Write as much and as often as you can.
   Don't save yourself, your ideas, for writing. I'm a firm believer in writing practice (as codified by such greats as Natalie Goldberg). I also have written at least 400 extra pages for at least of my novels. They live in purgatory files on my computer, and I'm not sorry I wrote them, or that I had to cut them. They helped me find what I really wanted to say.

And, here are the three writing practice topics:

1. Write about family photos.
   You can even use one if you like, or find someone's online, someone you don't know. Write for 8 minutes.
2. Write about being out of breath.
   Start by going into the sensory--the squeeze of empty lungs, the rasp of cold air in the throat, the slowing of blood beats in the ears, etc...Then, give us a why (in labor, running away from a bear, trying to get back into shape, fell off the tire swing, etc). Write for 12 minutes.
3. Open your purse or desk drawer.
   Take out three items, and start writing about one or more. Where did they come from? Why do you have them? What if you lost them? Bottlecaps, the travel clock your aunt gave you, an unopened letter from your last boyfriend...Write for 11 minutes.

Be well, everyone!

Welcome Back, Kotter!

Okay, I couldn't help it--it was in my head. My daughter started kindergarten this week, hooray hooray!

My son doesn't start school until next week, so he's a bit bored, and I have a long list of things to do together and much less stamina than I had on school vacation.

Go figure. But it's just a little longer. Then we'll be homework-wrangling, going to basketball and tap dance (that's the daughter. Though son could take it too if he wanted!) and birthday parties and you know the drill.

So here's a new writing topic for you.

Give yourself ten whole minutes to write about it. Don't worry about the outcome. Don't worry at all. Imagine this: ten whole guilt free minutes just to write. So dive in:

Write about cooking (or baking) from someone else's recipe.

Can't wait to read what you cook up for us!