the other mother - free writing workshop for moms

Lovely, lovely leaves

We just went for a walk in the lovely, lovely leaves. My daughter, who for some reason is sweetest of all, got stung not once, but twice by wasps. Are some of us really sweeter than others?

All this drama reminded me that I hadn’t posted for a while...

So here’s a writing topic that worked wonderfully in class:

Write about needles. Pine, pins and, dentists (ugh), sewing, knitting, being needled—whatever comes first to mind.

Write for 11 minutes.

Don’t be afraid to go there, even if it hurts (clearly this writing exercise can vaccinate you against fall gloom).

Post your writing in the comments section below (for any newbies who don’t already know). In class, the writings had a remarkable connection to each other—it charged the class with ideas and interest, and no one got hurt.

In other news, if you’re in northern NJ and would like to come meet me in person, come to the Ramsey Public Library in Ramsey, New Jersey on Sunday, November 16th at 2pm. Here are driving directions to the library.

The event is free, and I’m hoping for some of the amazing questions I’ve had at book groups lately.

Come! Tell me you read the blog!

And, as always, I’d be happy to sign bookplates if any of you would like to get your holiday shopping wrapped up early with signed copies of The Other Mother. Just send me an email with your name, address, and what you’d like me to write. I’ve been sending them out by the dozen, and it feels great to know more people will be reading about Thea and Amanda and hopefully feeling just a little more compassionate toward other mothers everywhere.

pro-cras-tin-a-tion

The thing is, I'm not usually a procrastinator. Sure, I look at that stack of laundry-to-be-folded and walk the other way; sure, my inbox looks like the beginnings of a very big, luscious bonfire, and sure, my kids aren't the only ones who have a hard time getting going in the morning, but when it comes to writing, I'm usually right ready when I have the writing time.

I always recommend scheduling the time--I write it in my Franklin Day Planner, to which I've become addicted since my working-in-an-office days. I am willing to sit in the quiet, thinking, giving myself permission to write notes before getting to the scene at hand, but today is different. All week I've used my sudden embarrassment of time to write. The kids are back at school; I have notes and plans and small scraps of paper with phrases that will start the important truths of this newest novel, and I've been using them. Until today.

Today, I want to go for a walk. Today, I miss our dog, who died last year. Today, my knitting looks ridiculously compelling, as if I could pick it up and finish my mother's birthday present, the huge sweater I'm making in bulky gold wool, the holiday gifts I feel compelled to begin ahead of time. I envy my friends who procrastinate by cleaning out closets, and THINK about cleaning out closets, but I'm just not getting to the writing.

I believe I know where I'm stuck: I suddenly have time, and intention, and prompt. I have clues about what I want to write, and there's a part of me that just doesn't want to write it. There's some bits of plot at the core I've been trying to write for years. They're painful, even if the story is ultimately a hopeful one. I have to get through the painful bits. I have to write them. So instead, I'm writing a blog post. But hopefully, it'll help anyone else who is procrastinating today.

Here's one self-imposed assignment I dig out whenever I hit this rare mood. Maybe it'll help you if you're stuck at the beginning, like I am. Maybe it'll help you if you're stuck in the middle, stuck near the end. Maybe it'll help if you haven't even started.

So here's your topic ...
Make a list: Things I Never Want to Write About

Give it a good 15 minutes, but probably the first few are the most important. They probably have to do with loss, and with love, and with fear, the biggies.

Then make another list: Things I Need to Write About

Take only 10 on this one. Then take a look at your lists. Is there any overlap? I will use mine to give myself writing prompts for this new novel for next week and beyond.

Even if the things I never want to write about are wretched, there's probably something good in there, and maybe I'll be able to exhaust them and move on to those I need. Or those I want. For now, another cup of coffee, and the lists themselves. Any writing counts.

You've come a long way, baby

So summer is winding down. Never mind that we haven't yet been to "our beach house" (a one-week rental, and believe me, I'm excited -- this year it's more than 400 square feet!), but back-to-school is a full-on event out there. A friend at the pool told me she spotted Thanksgiving items in the Rite-Aid. C'mon, folks, let's not skip the all-important DNA Day! Tolkien Reading Day! National Boss Day!

I ordered my daughter's school lunch for September online the other day. She has more lunch options than we ever did. Mostly, I ate pb&j, or a cheese sandwich, or the ever-weird (but delicious) pomegranate (now I know I was ahead of my time).

Once in a while we were allowed to order school lunch from the lunch ladies. It came in silver foil and smelled, inevitably, of cardboard, cabbage, and feet. Mmm. She gets to choose between yogurt bag, turkey sandwich, cheese sandwiches, and of course, hot things, every day. What I really longed for was the chocolate milk.

There's still time yet to enter the summer writing contest. If you do it by Labor Day, I promise not to put a turkey on the door until then.

Meanwhile, here's a topic for the waning days of summer:

Write about school lunch. Packing it, eating it, smelling it, wanting it, lacking it, buying it, hating it, loving it. Write for 8 minutes because it's the 8th month of the year.

Then come back in September, because it's time to get writing some more!

Sweeter than Tupelo Honey

sweet honey
image by mateusz atroszko

Some days we all need a little sweetness, a little honey, a little magic. Never mind the initial groans grownups make, this little book is lovely, full of imaginative language and dazzling drawings, and most of all, magic. My daughter is at the age of magic (not that it really ends, ever), and she gasped when she saw this.

"Oh, Mommy, it's the most beautiful book in the world!"

fairy foals

I haven't grown tired of reading it over and over (never mind that we have about a thousand other books in the rotation), and she says the fairy foals are in her dreams. It makes me think about believing, about when I was walking home from kindergarten, so, so hungry for a snack, and I believed myself when I decided I could eat imaginary chocolate pudding from my pocket. It wasn't imaginary, it was delicious. The grasshoppers spoke to me, the tree leaves had a language, I could fly. You remember it, too.

So here's your topic:

Write about magic, when you believed.

It doesn't have to be corny; it shouldn't be cynical, it should be summer cicadas and the hissing of deep green lawns. Write for seven summer minutes.

And don't forget the contest. I've set a deadline: the end of summer. Labor Day. Sure, that's loads of time, but if you hone and post your paragraphs now you can feel as though you've accomplished one summer goal already.

Happy sprinkler weather!

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!

teach your children well...

free to be you and me:
marlo thomas and friends

What with mother's day, and library visits and book groups (thank you, wonderful folks, who have hosted me in your homes - I've learned so much!), I've been thinking a lot about how although my parents (look of shock) weren't perfect, somehow they managed to teach me that I could do/be whatever I wanted to do/be.

My neighbor, a few years back, rolled down her minivan window as I walked the dog and baby in stroller (years back!) and said, tearfully:

"You tell them they can do anything they want, but I never expected my little girl would want to go to West Point!"

They adjusted, and so, I hope, will I, to whatever passions my children choose (or whatever passions choose them), as long as they don't hurt anyone else.

But meanwhile, I'm doing my best to teach them -- it's okay for boys to think American Girl Dolls are cool; it's okay for girls to love sports -- cliches, for sure, but true.

Remember Free to be you and me? William wants a doll?

This week's writing topic: Make a list: what I want to teach my children. Choose one and write about it for 22 minutes. Go.

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!

Lost, Found, Mother's Day

Oh yes indeedy, Mother's Day is coming up. Of course, I highly recommend The Other Mother as a gift. And, if you email me at ggross@gwendolengross.com I will send you a handy signed bookplate "to Elizabeth's Mom," etc.

If your mom likes a good read and already has TOM, check out the lovely Allison Winn Scotch's freshly out in paperback The Department of Lost and Found. It's touching and warm and wonderful, and Allison herself seems to be, too. She has a very writer-friendly blog, Ask Allison, with all kinds of insider advice on writing, especially for magazines, but fiction as well. She's a writer's writer, as they say. Pick up her book today, if not for Mom, for yourself!

If Mom's nuts about knitting (how did this happen? I'm nuts about knitting. Next comes knit-lit, as my husband says, or, if you're joking about skeins, knit-wit. Oh dear.) and your budget's a bit bigger, how about stopping by here?

Or if you're in northern NJ, I just went to the most amazing yarn store on my way back from a book group: The Stitchery. OMG, the colors! The kind and helpful staff!

That's this week's writing topic after all: A letter to Mom, trying your very best to write specific details--and not the usual ones, either--the you-changed-my-diaper ones. The conversation about worms, the letting me pick out anything in the toystore (I chose Misty of Chincoteague the plastic horse model) after the pet catfish died, if you can remember them. Spend 18 minutes. I can't wait to read them!

This week's writing topic: A letter to Mom, trying your very best to write specific details--and not the usual ones, either--the you-changed-my-diaper ones. The conversation about worms, the letting me pick out anything in the toystore (I chose Misty of Chincoteague the plastic horse model) after the pet catfish died, if you can remember them. Spend 18 minutes. I can't wait to read them!

workshops!

I'm all for mothers writing together, as you know, and started a course called Writing Motherhood right here in town some years ago! I don't know these folks personally, but they wrote and asked whether I'd share the following:

MotherVerse Magazine, a journal of contemporary motherhood, is launching an exciting new addition; mother writer workshops. These virtual workshops are designed to help facilitate mother writing by encouraging others to come together to learn and guide one another. MotherVerse will be offering two workshops "Writing Motherhood" and "Publishing a Blog" with will begin at the end of April and early May. The workshops will feature experienced published mentors and are a great opportunity to grow your current writing, develop something new, or begin that blog you have always wanted to start. If you are interested in joining a workshop sign up as soon as possible as each workshop has a limited enrollment. Visit http://www.motherverse.com/workshops

If you go, let us know what you think!

This week's writing topic: Write about not being a mother for 9 minutes. That could be nine minutes of not being a mother, or before you were a mother, or what you are other than a mother...

I'm just back from visiting my mother, which was wonderful. And spring is sprung, the flowers riz, I wonder where the birdies is...

knit a little, talk a little, cheep cheep cheep!

What is it about knitting? I finally broke down and bought The Friday Night Knitting Club to take on vacation—and have to admit, the skeins on the cover are probably the most compelling (I’m not slamming the book—I haven’t read it yet!) book jacket I’ve seen in a while. Dogs and yarn. Note to self: next book should have dogs and yarn on the jacket (instead of whistful women--though I have loved my book jackets, too (thought Luft und Liebe's hilarious.

Anyway, I started knitting back in the ‘80s as part of a winter term project at Oberlin College. My other projects that winter included a Swingle Singers residency and learning microtonal music. My brain was still growing back then. I learned to knit a basic fair aisle sweater, and made about a dozen, designing my own within the basic pattern. I had two pairs of needles. Then after college, I started knitting sweaters for babies, designing my own and branching out into all types of yarn.

But now, now it’s a revolution! I started up again after having bone graft surgery, and I can’t stop. There’s so much locally and online (oo, click me! or me!) and the yarns are glorious, and knitters are ubiquitous. I have friends who hide their stashes (an interesting choice of jargon to begin with) so no one in their family knows how much they spend on yarn. It’s cheaper, in my friend Cindy’s words, than crack.

The other day my friend Kim called to tell me about a knitting event at her local library; my friend Linda left a message about a knit-in at Barnes and Noble, but the strange thing is, I really like knitting alone. Maybe it’s partly that I still can’t get the kind of all-out exercise I used to before the ankle surgery (it’ll take up to a year), but knitting calms me, helps me focus. It’s kind of like the reverie of writing, though not the same kind of almost physical mental effort—more like meditating, perhaps. Anyway, I’m glad it’s this new public festival, I’m glad it’s IN, I’m glad I can lust after glorious yarns  and click on handmade skeins and notice a hand-knit a mile away. I don’t know how long it’ll last. Maybe until I can start taking the other kind of spinning class again. Or maybe my whole house will be covered in lace, knit and purl. Making something out of raw materials, straw into gold, we like making things, whether it’s babies or blogs or books or blankets, and there’s nothing wrong with that.

This entry is cross-posted from the New Jersey Moms Blog.

All that said, here's your new topic: Write about making something: Think Tillie Olson's As I Stand Here Ironing, or building a house, or being pregnant... Write for 14 minutes. Hooray for spring!