The Wonderful World of a Facetious Redhead

Versatile Blogger Award and I Suck

2012-01-26T15:02:00.002-05:00

I googled myself (yes, I do that. Yes, I'm that self centered.) and found out that the Schitzophrenic Writer nominated me for a Versatile Blogger Award. I have no idea what that is but heck, I'm good for a lil blogging fun.

First, thanks Schitzo for the nomination. Although I have no idea if I won or whatever but I guess I need to give seven little known facts about myself. Even if I don't I'm all about oversharing, so here goes:

1. When I was little I wanted to be rockstar
2. I love whipped cream.
3. I am a natural redhead but have my hair dyed because it has naturally faded to a dull copper penny color which isn't uber attractive.
4. I used to pray that I would be offered a job in San Francisco, California, Los Angeles, California or New York City, New York so I could move to one of those locales.
5. My first love was writing musical lyrics. My second love was painting and sculpting.
6. I cannot have children. Long story.
7. If I had to chose between something savory and something sweet, I'd pick savory. Sweet stuff can be too sweet but rarely have I had something too savory.

New Venue for Up and Coming Writers

2012-01-13T21:05:00.003-05:00

For those writers out there, you may want to check out Author Salon. It's a new venue for up and coming writers to vet work and develop a network of writers and agents. Read through the introduction and you'll see how it's a brave new world in writing and publishing.

My Favorite Christmas

2011-12-02T20:21:00.004-05:00

With each Christmas, I am reminded of previous Christmases. Of course this makes me think of my absolute favorite. Oddly, it wasn't the holiday in which I received exactly what I had wanted (typically something involved with music) or with travel or what-have-you.

I walked into my father's room to see him at his desk. He hunched over a stack of bills; he released the ones in his palm. I could see him give up. It came through his pores, emanated through the room.

"I'm two months behind the mortgage."

At 13 I wasn't sure I understood what he told me. I knew we had been getting food from the local food charity and he had been receiving foodstamps, but I didn't have insight into the rest of our financial situation. My father would leave every morning when I left for school. He came home in time to make dinner. He spent a lot of time combing through the newspaper and on the phone. For a while, he was a paperboy.

I looked over my father's shoulder and saw the past due signs in red. His fingerprints stamped on the pages, which told me he had pondered over each and every bill more than once.

Christmas was a week away. "If I miss one more, we may need to leave," Dad said in a whisper, as if he couldn't quite believe it. I knew we had been in this position before. When I was younger, he had lost his job at a radio station. If you asked my father, he'd say he lost his job because he was a smart ass. This time, he lost his overnight gig to automation.

"That's okay," I said. I kissed him on the cheek and left his room. I tried to think of ways to raise money. I picked up my own paper route to help ends meet. I thought of calling everyone I knew to see if they had a spare radio station job; the one job that made my father happy.

Typically the evening of Christmas Eve, our house would be filled with thunking and kerplunking. I was banned from his room and the attic on Christmas eve. My father waited until the very last minute to shop. He shoved along with the other last minute shoppers to try to find the Cabbage Patch Kid, the Smurf, the fill-in-the-blank toy of the hour that he had made just enough room on his credit card to purchase.

This specific Christmas, there was no kerplunking. No sounds of crinkled plastic or of tape whizzing off of the dispenser.

I awoke Christmas morning to find our artificial tree decorated with the ornaments we had for years and years with a single gift under the tree. I waited for my father to join me at the tree's base (he had to get his cup of percolated coffee) for me to unwrap my present. It was an antique doll. One that had been left to me by a great aunt and had been specified for me not to have until I had reached the age of 13 (otherwise I would destroy it in my youthfulness). I was a little confused by the gift since I had already played with it quite a bit.

"I'm sorry," my dad said. "I wish we had more."

I looked up at the sparkling lights, the glistening baubles, the sincerity in my father's eyes and I knew that this was perfect. I didn't need presents. We had a roof over our heads, food on the table, and I had a loving father who wanted so badly for us to have a normal Christmas that he found something to wrap and place under the tree.

"You weren't supposed to get the doll until now," Dad said. "I couldn't stand the thought of you waking up Christmas morning to nothing."

Of course I was worried that we would lose the house but I knew we would figure it out. We always did. I got up from the floor and hugged my father. "This is the best Christmas present ever."

Have I Lost My Mind? A Life In Three Acts

2011-10-30T22:10:00.007-04:00

I spent this past weekend at a writers conference in Niagara Falls where I met three amazing ladies who made what could have been a painful experience, fantastic.

Part of this conference was to pitch stories to agents and editors. Many already know that I've been writing a novel for a little over five years now and I've been revising it as a part of my MFA at Fairfield University. So, I figured I would pitch it and see if anyone was interested.

Meanwhile, I've had requests from friends, family, and acquaintances to write a memoir. This is something I've avoided for years, mostly because this isn't going to be a Snooki kind of memoir. This will be a life changing; went to hell and came back; dear god I cannot believe I lived - type of memoir. And I'm not talking about only one instance of dear god I cannot believe I lived, I'm talking about multiple. But I'm a relative unknown. I haven't won a Pulitzer. I didn't discover bread. I don't have millions of adoring fans.

To appease those who have requested that I write the memoir, I decided to pitch both the novel and the memoir. I figured, I'd prove that I was right and no one would want to read such drivel.

I sat down with the first editor, a senior editor with one of the biggest publishing houses in the US and told him I had a novel and a memoir and then asked which one he wanted to hear about. He said both. So, I started with the novel:

"I have a completed 90,000 word novel entitled THE MEMORY KEEPER, comparable to LIFE OF PI meets THE YEAR OF FOG. Set in Smithfield, NJ in the 1970s, THE MEMORY KEEPER tells the story of Amanda Carmichael, whose life has been shaped around the loss of her mother, Jillian Carmichael, a day Amanda blurrily remembers and yet whenever she tries to delve into the details, she is blocked by migraines. Her father loses his job forcing them to move, bringing the opportunity to start new lives. When her father announces that he wants to remarry and Amanda realizes she can no longer recall the sound of her mother’s voice or her gentle touch, Amanda runs away to discover the truth about her mother’s disappearance only to find out that she has had the answers all along.

Former Features Editor for the "Picolata Review", my fiction has been in publications such as "The StraightJackets Magazine". I’m the former President of Pennwriters and regularly speak at writers conferences. I am currently obtaining my MFA from Fairfield University. No stranger to the spotlight, I was a dancer and co-host for Dance Party USA and Dancin’ On Air."

The editor politely asked me a few questions and then requested to hear my pitch for the memoir:

"In the summer of 1981, I died at the age of nine. Not brain dead, that would have taken a few more minutes, but the rest of me died on an operating table while four doctors labored over my pudgy body in an attempt to stop and remove an infection.

My memoir, BREATHE, follows my childhood in Camden, NJ, the most dangerous city in the United States, where I’m raised by my mother, a paranoid schitzophrenic who couldn’t believe that my 105 fever was real and my father, a smart alec, self destructive radio personality who tried to protect me but at the same time needed to regain a sense of normalcy, typically by ignoring the chaos within our home. You’ll follow my journey as I fight for my life and come out the victor with the help of friends, family, and a whole lot of hope."

Again, he asked a few questions and then I was told that the head of the program would inform those lucky individuals who would be asked to submit their work to the senior editor.

Great! Excellent! So, I moved onto the next editor. Again, someone from a well established publishing house. I made the same offer: Would you like to hear one? Both? She asked to hear both and then asked for samples from both. Next, the agent. Again, I posed the same question: One? Both? He wanted to hear both and then he asked for partials from both.

Later, I was informed that the first editor from the uber publishing house wants both the memoir and the novel. I realize I should be excited, ecstatic, thrilled. I am freaked out.

Counter intuitive, right? Well, understand that I never, ever thought anyone would want to read my memoir. I'm no Snooki. I'm not an A list celebrity. I'm no Einstein. I figured I would pitch the memoir, they would laugh at me or politely tell me to screw off. Instead, they were all interested in it. I cannot believe anyone would want to read about my childhood. I guess I need to get over it because I have a lot of work to do. I'm a bit of a perfectionist and I won't send these to the agents or editors until I feel like I've produced quality pieces.

And then there's the other part of writing a memoir: delving into the past, the emotions associated with events that some would like to forget and others have forced themselves to forget. The dredging of painful memories and telling them with truth, honesty, sincerity.

Taking a segment of my life and focusing on one theme in order to do what? From a publishers perspective - to sell books. From my perspective - with the desire that my story can give others hope. That someone, somewhere will read my story and realize that their lives are wonderful and they should cherish each moment, especially those we get to spend with such great friends as my three co-horts at the conference.

Do I have a fulfilling end to this blog post? Right now, no. But talk to me in a few months and we'll see what's transpired regarding the novel and the memoir. I could still be right ...

Update: While researching, I discovered my mother passed away on January 15, 2010. She died on her birthday at the age of 69. My cousin was supposed to tell me if anything happened to my mom. I guess my cousin forgot to call.

Guest Blogged on Fairfield's Galway Blog

2011-08-19T15:33:00.002-04:00

While I traveled Europe, I guest blogged on Fairfield University's Galway blog. Check it out.

Cabaret, Nazi Germany, and a Small Theater in the Suburbs of America

2011-06-25T10:26:00.003-04:00

Last weekend, I attended a wonderful and disturbing performance of Cabaret. Wonderful because I have amazingly talented friends who had key roles both on stage and behind the scenes. I'm writing today's blog post about the disturbing part.

If you're familiar with the musical, Cabaret, it's set before Hitler's rise to power. The director of this production played up the metaphor of the Master of Ceremonies representing the tenuous political period which results in the Nazi regime.

One of the characters, Fräulein Schneider, becomes engaged to Herr Schultz and they decide to have an engagement party. At the party it is revealed that Herr Schultz is Jewish. A benefactor of Schneider threatens to ruin her if she goes through with the marriage (and reveals that the benefactor is a Nazi). The characters handed out the lyrics to Oh Fatherland and insisted that the audience sing along and stand. At the end of the song, much of the cast performed a Nazi or Hitler salute.

At first I thought the director was making an interesting statement. And then, I realized I was one of the few audience members who did not stand up and did not sing along. I watched on in horror as they stood and sung. Mind you, a few needed goating to get up. But still, there they were, standing and singing along with characters that represented a terrifying period of Germany's history.

I kept thinking, do the audience members understand that they are paying tribute to a fascist regime by standing and singing along? Don't they understand what this represents? The horror of it? Even now I'm having difficulty wrapping my head around the fact that in 2011 in America, in a suburban theater, that audience members stood and sung Oh Fatherland during a scene that was clearly a representation of the dominance and power of the fascist Nazi regime.

I'm less disgusted by the directors choice and more so amazed that today, so many people would follow such a sing-along.

Remembering Frank Kastner or Where I Got My Curmudgeony Sarcasm

2011-06-19T12:24:00.006-04:00

I was born four months before my father's 50th birthday. A man small in stature but tall in ambition, pride, and passion. He knew when he heard his first radio show that he was meant to be a radio announcer. He dedicated his life to his passion for music.

That passion would take him down many strange paths. He had a gift for being strongly opinionated and oftentimes his opinions clashed with those of authority. This resulted in him losing many jobs that he adored, resulting in long periods of joblessness or having to take a job that barely put food on the table. We had Christmases with no Christmas. Times when he feared we would lose our home. He took in boarders, recently discharged convicts, to help pay the mortgage. At times, we lived off of the goodwill of neighbors and the local soup kitchen. Yet he did not give up. He continued to send his resume out, call contacts, pursue the smallest nugget of a lead so he could get back onto the radio.

I remember friends calling me to tell me how they had listened to him the night before. How he was funny and they wanted to know if he was really my dad and can we hang out sometime and can they be on the radio too? I remember sleeping on the couch at the radio station when he couldn't find a babysitter and he was working the overnight shift. I remember, as a teenager, scaring the beegeeberz out of another radio personality in the bathroom at 11 PM because I was dropping my dad off for work, so I could use the car. I remember my dad getting the car filled with gas, when my father said, "Fill it with regular, please." the gas attendant blurted out, "You're Frank Kastner, aren't you? I'd know that voice anywhere." All the while I slunk down to the floor.

I remember a man who talked to me like I was an adult. A man who believed that we can accomplish anything with enough will power and determination. He never let me slack even when something came easily to me. I remember a man who was both arrogant and humble; intelligent and ignorant; adventurous and fearful; happy and guilt ridden. I remember a complex and loving man who will be and is missed by many.

Thank you for being my father.

The Big 4 - 0

2011-06-05T20:48:00.002-04:00

Friday evening, I had a wonderful dinner and outing with some dear friends. During our conversation, I mentioned that I turn 40 in November.
"We have to do something special," one friend commented.
"Maybe we can go to Las Vegas?"
"Or Brazil!"
"I know, let's go to Brazil for Carnaval!"
"That's a great idea!"
"Carnaval's not in November is it?" I asked.
"No. It's in February, but that's okay. We can celebrate your birthday then."
Never one to squelch the chance to travel, I agreed. Then somehow the prospect of going to one of the most infamous celebrations in the world snowballed.
"You know we'll need to get in our A game shape. We'll be competing with Brazilian women."
Wait. I didn't realize I was going to Carnaval to pick up Brazilian men. Nor did I realize I was going to Carnaval to dress in scanty clothes.
"So this is the last night of good eaten we're going to have until February. We need to get into shape."
Suddenly, the idea of going to Carnaval to celebrate my 40th birthday doesn't sound so enticing. I didn't want to go somewhere just so I'd need to spend the next six months starving myself and working out like a fiend. I was thinking that a 40th birthday celebration should be fun, joyous, and something I'd look forward to, not something I'd need to work toward.

I think I'll stay home and eat popcorn instead. Anyone else have ideas for how to celebrate a 40th birthday? Something that doesn't involve six months of prep work?

Debrief - 2011 Pennwriters Conference

2011-05-16T05:54:00.006-04:00

I figured the easiest way to blog about this year's Pennwriters Conference was to simply provide a list of moments/thoughts/remembrances:
1. As always, the Pittsburgh Airport Marriott treated us very well. I had a snaffoo with my hotel room (They had it in the books for me to arrive on Friday and leave on Monday). The hotel immediately found me a room in a completely booked hotel, and they even gave me a room on the Elite floor. I must admit, I don't know made it an Elite room but the view was cool.
2. Amazement at the dynamic duo we call Meredith and Julie. Along with their fantastic Conference Chairs, they orchestrated the biggest conference in Pittsburgh to date. I believe there was a 30% or 40% increase in attendees at the Pittsburgh conference this year compared to the 2009 conference.
3. My plane landing on the tarmac in Pittsburgh right before they closed the tarmac due to lightening storms.
4. Had lots of quality time with Jackie Mitchard and Pam English. I love Pam. I want her to adopt me so I can hang out with Jackie's kids. (There's an inside joke here. Don't worry if you don't get it.)
5. I didn't know what to do with myself. This was the first conference in several years in which I wasn't on point to do a variety of activities. I definitely ran around but I found myself sitting still more times than I can remember. Someone commented to me that she was surprised how low profile I was this year. I just thought I was resting.
6. Discovering that my Ethiopian daughter would help me revise my novel (Again, inside joke here. Don't worry if you don't understand.)
7. Jackie and Pam decided they would to stay an additional day and attend workshops.
8. When the workshop leader found out that Jackie Mitchard had attended her workshop on researching the police. 8B. When Jackie told the workshop leader how much she loved it.
9. The inspiring keynote by Jonathan Maberry.
10. The agent and editor panel facilitated by Nancy Martin. What could have been a boring discussion, she made fun.
11. Victoria Skurnick's candid workshop on how to work with an agent.
12. Dinner with Victoria Skurnick and Mercedes (one of our amazing Conference Leads) as well as many others. Thoroughly enjoyed the anecdotes. I would share them with you, but I promised I wouldn't. And I'm afraid of Mercedes.
13. The ride back to the hotel in the trunk of Julie Long's SUV. Dang, I wish we got a picture.
14. The look on multiple Pennwriters faces when they were asked for full or partials from agents. Yes folks, our writers are THAT GOOD.
15. My chats with agents and editors who shared that the members pitches were excellent and that they were impressed with the quality of the work. See comment on item 14 and replace the word good with the word GREAT.
16. D.L. Wilson's announcement that his second book SIROCCO is now available.
17. D. L. Wilson stopping me in the airport as I boarding and he gave me a copy of this action packed novel which was the perfect read for my flight home.

Many more moments but I'll sum the weekend up with this - if you are a writer and you've never been to a Pennwriters Conference, you need to. During Jonathan Maberry's Saturday afternoon keynote, he said that Pennwriters is a true writers community - a positive, supporting environment to help all writers at all stages of the writing journey. He repeated several times over the weekend that the Pennwriters Conference is what a writers community should be. It is the gold star, the shining example (fill in glowing remark here) for all writers conferences, all writing communities. And I concur.

Open Call for Essays

2011-04-23T14:22:00.004-04:00

Had an interesting experience in which you felt like you were the outsider looking in? A stranger in a strange land? If so, send your essay, up to 3,000 words in length, to me at expatriatesunite@gmail.com with "Submission" in the subject line.

I will review essays on a rolling basis. The strongest essays will be posted on this blog.

Thanks and I look forward to reading your stories.

The Adventures of Jill and Lisa Part Eleven

2011-04-22T12:08:00.002-04:00

The Last Night in Madrid

A fun-loving bus ride back to Madrid gave Lisa the opportunity to harass one of her fellow English speakers:

“So your name is ONLY Randy.”

“Yes.”

“Not Randolph.”

“No.”

“How about Ronaldo?”

“No, my name isn’t Ronaldo.”

“So your birth certificate only says Randy?"

“Yes.”

“What about a middle name?”

“What? Look I’m trying to sleep.”

“Oh sorry.” After a few minutes of travel through miles of vacant hills, “Are you sure your name isn’t Randolfino?”

“Listen. I’m snoring. Hear it?” (Simulated snoring)

“Oh right.”

Once the bus reached Madrid and our heroines said their goodbyes, they began their journey home. Our American dilatants lugged their bags, three times the size of standard carry-ons, back to their rooms in the Hotel Atlantico. Determined to get some shopping into their stay and after exhaustive interviews of Spaniards to discover the best place to purchase shoes, clothes, and souvenirs, our heroines quickly freshened up and confidently strode out of the hotel and to the shops that were surely anticipating their entrance.

Yeah, that’s it.

As they approached one of the larger malls, only two blocks from their hotel, they note that many people walked the streets, but no one seemed to be going into the shops. Jill and Lisa stood at a mall entrance, only to find locked doors.

“Let’s check out the next entrance.”

“Are you sure they’re open?”

“Uh. Dunno...”

Our heroines searched for and found the mall hours.

“According to this, the mall’s open for another two hours.”

“Maybe only that store is closed?”

So they walk around and around ...

And around the outside of the mall, only to find that every entrance was locked and the primary lights seemed to be dimmed.

The women remained at an entrance and watched as entire families strolled through the streets, greeting other wanderers along the way. Pedestrians stopped and hugged each other like they were discovering old friends. Then the families disappeared into a restaurant or bar to chat. Jill and Lisa looked across the street and in a small family owned shop a sign had been posted – closed for holiday.

“You have to be kidding.”

“Now what?”

“There’s nothing wrong with the good old stand by.”

And what might that stand by be? Why the Hard Rock Café in Madrid of course. Not only did it have food but it also offered souvenirs and clothes. OK, no shoes but two out of three ain’t bad.

With their final evening in Madrid before them, Jill and Lisa joined the strolling families and wandered to the Hard Rock Café. All the while admiring the beautiful and eclectic architecture of Madrid; people watching; and admiring the openness of the Spanish culture.

And this makes our final entry for The adventures of Jill and Lisa. Tune in next week, when Lisa will come up with something that will be incredibly clever, breathtaking or at least palatable.

The Adventures of Jill and Lisa Part Ten

2011-04-17T13:05:00.004-04:00

A Night of Debauchery by Jill

It was a night to remember, that last night in Valdelavilla ... I only wish I could remember it.

Oh, I’m just teasin’. It wasn’t that bad. But allow me to say that my last night in the lovely mountains of Spain ended a bit differently than Lisa’s ...

It was all fine while we were in the little make-shift bar area. We listened to the tales of GoodSport, dancing in the limited space between tables (the Spaniards will indeed dance anywhere!), took pictures, and just enjoyed these wonderful people we had come to love over the past week. Yes, there were many vodka y limons and rum and cokes, but it was all good.

Until the bartender/cook/in-house medic/groundskeeper guy said that the party was over. Yeah right. Let me tell you a little secret about my good friends the Spaniards – the party is never over!

While Lisa made a hasty, albeit less than graceful exit off Stage Left, I instead exited with the masses out the main door. That was the First Mistake. Then, after some more laughs outside while the buzz began to wear off a bit, I made my way back to our little apartment.

Then I heard it ... the quietest little whisper in the sweetest little voice. "Yil, Yil fiesta aqui!" Ok, by this time the Spaniards had learned that I could speak and understand passable Spanish, a fact that both Lisa and I had kept guarded upon arriving in Valdelavilla. Plus, I had found that the later in the evening it was, the more Spanish I heard around me. Given that the Spaniards were strictly forbidden from conversing in anything but English with each other or the Anglos during the course of the week, I wasn’t surprised that they gave in once it was late and their guards were down. Now the dear little lady who enticed me to join the party in her apartment was the most harmless person who had attended Valdelavilla. She was a sweet, quiet, hard-working mother of a beautiful little girl, but boy, could she shake her booty on the dance floor ... or wherever!

"What could possibly happen?" My mantra of the entire experience whispered back ... “I’ll just stop by for a minute, besides, Lisa’s probably there already.”

Wrong. Lisa had munched on crackers and/or passed out in her bed. Please note this was my Second Mistake.

I stooped down to enter the little apartment hosting the after-fiesta of the fiesta to find that the bartender/cook/in-house medic/groundskeeper was still bartending after all, with all of the same booze that was in the bar! There were 4 Anglos total in attendance at this after-party, and allow me to reiterate that Lisa was NOT one of them. I found the other three, and we sat on the floor in the corner of the room and watched in amazement as our dear friends, surely the original inspiration for the Energizer Bunny, danced and danced and danced.

At some point I managed to make an escape, crawling for the door only to be found by, oh, I think we’re calling him Pepe from a previous blog entry.

"Yil, Yil, you cannot leave."

I began to think this was indeed true.

"I have to, Pepe. I’m tired."

"No, no, you must stay ... you are my favorite girl."

Ha! Hahahahahahahaha!

Yes, I’m sure at that moment I was indeed Pepe’s favorite girl, as Lisa would have been if she were there, or any other female would have been in that exact situation.

I gave Pepe a great big smile and a hug, and said "thank you, and you’re my favorite guy" and proceeded to waltz back to Lisa’s and my apartment, despite the protests.

I wasn’t terribly quiet about entering the room. I mean, after all, Lisa had ditched me!

But, good soul that she is, she was awake and waiting to hear my Tale of the Fiesta after the Fiesta.

Our overall rating of this experience, crazy adventures and all? I wouldn’t have traded it for anything. The people were wonderful, the country and the culture are so warm and inviting, and the bond forged between old friends and new is something to be treasured for always.

Tune in next week to find out what happened AFTER Jill and Lisa left Valdelavilla. That's right folks, there's more.

The Adventures of Jill and Lisa Part Nine

2011-04-14T21:47:00.001-04:00

Does Your Butt Stick Out?

I’m sure you realized our heroines returned to Englishtown from the hike without any major trauma. Well barring the overwhelming feeling that their lungs weren’t quite able to expand enough to take in the air they needed to trek through mountains that in some instances were at a 90 degree angle. Please note that both of our heroines are city folk who usually spend their time drinking martinis or other concoctions on Jill’s deck; the closest they get to experiencing nature or allowing nature to experience them.

This was to be the final evening in Englishtown. And since Jill and Lisa missed on the all night super party/fiesta madhouse, our heroines felt that it was their duty to stay up late and discuss the benefits of Anglos and Spaniards joining together in a remote location and truly explore the benefits of cross cultural communications.

Yeah, who am I kidding? We were gonna drink, dang it! Don’t worry, both women had time to recover from the hike and their collective illnesses – at least a little – that afternoon after traversing the mountain trail. So, they found themselves in the midst of the bar at some incredibly late hour (OK, late for Americans, not so late for Spaniards) downing vodka y limons, rum and cokes, while enjoying animated conversations.

One such conversation was regarding the bathing areas in our beautifully renovated village. I’m sure you remember us mentioning how persons were petite back in the 1500s? Now envision a man, 6’ 6” tall spending 7 days trying to bathe in a room built for people who maxed out at 5’ 7”.

Our 6’6” friend, we’ll call him GoodSport, while sucking down vodka y limons gave Jill and Lisa an account of this challenging situation.

The showers in Englishtown consisted of a small shower pan that was barely arms length in diameter for a woman 5’7” tall. The shower was placed in a corner of the bathroom with ceiling beams boring down from above. Even Lisa was afraid of hitting her head on the wooden supports. The pan was enclosed with a plastic shower curtain – no walls, no sides, only a curtain that encircled the pan.

Hence the entertaining story.

“You see, I cannot wash my hair without doing this …” GoodSport demonstrates by shoving his derriere in an almost sitting position while miming a curtain that didn’t quite cover the imagined au natural state of GoodSport.

“So, my butt is really cold and my eyes are covered in soap and I’m trying to get the showerhead pointing so I can get the water on my hair. Then, to wash the rest of me, I have to crouch down and try to get under the water but I have to move my body so that I do this.”

GoodSport then mimes moving half of his au natural-ness out of the shower and trying to rinse off suds while avoiding falling into the accompanying sink or onto the floor, taking the curtain with him.

“OK, time to close up,” calls the bartender.

Lisa decides that this is her opportunity to exit – stage right. She didn’t want to stay up too much later and she was definitely feeling the high alcohol content, low cola or lemon fizz drinks.

“Good night, see you tomorrow,” she says and waves to everyone in the bar, exiting through a side door. At that point, she is trying to make sure she doesn’t fall or do something else that would be embarrassing on her way back to the room. After finding the keyhole to unlock the door to their room, Lisa plops onto the bed and looks around the room.

“Jill?”

Lisa suddenly realizes that Jill is not behind her, as she had assumed. But instead, was somewhere

Else.

She stumbles to the window and searches the grounds below to find her friend.

“Jill?”

Lisa goes to the stash of remaining crackers and eats a few, trying to regain some modicum of soberness. The next thing she knew, Jill was walking up the stairs to their room, as Lisa was passed out on the bed, covered in remnants of crackers and a trickle of drunkard’s drool reaching the bed sheet.

“Where’d you go?”

We’ll save the rest of the story for next week, when Jill will share the exciting and thrilling experience of a post-bar closing adventure.

The Adventures of Jill and Lisa Part Eight

2011-04-10T10:13:00.001-04:00

Playing with Vultures by Jill

Being the good friend that she is, Jill felt it only right to share her black market drugs with Lisa, in lieu of attending the true-to-form Spanish fiesta combined with a real American dance-off. Truth be told, Lisa was still sniffling and could have really used a good night’s sleep too, since the combination of Jill’s wheezing, sneezing, and snoring forced her to count the spiders on the ceiling at night.

After a half-hearted attempt at doing laundry, our girls cracked the seal on the bottle.

"How many should we take?”

“I don’t know. Do you think it’s like American cold medicine?”

“I don’t know. What’s the equivalent of this in American anyway?”

“I dunno.”

So we each took one.

And then the giggles hit. And suddenly, it was like we had taken some sort of European form of truth serum.

“So-and-so* (*I’m pretty sure we weren’t even referencing a real person here, but rather an imaginary one that was very real to us at the moment) is a bitch.”

“Yeah, you said it.”

“My tongue feels weird.”

“My toenails are sparkly.”

“Let’s slide across the floor in our socks.”

“OK!”

And so went the conversation for the next few hours. Bloody stuff didn’t even make us sleepy.

Fast forward to the next morning at Valdelavilla (Englishtown), which dawned cool and rainy. Suffice it to say that our co-horts, both Anglos and Spaniards were looking like they’d been rode hard and put away wet (OK, not an original, but I absolutely love that expression!) after the previous evening’s/early morning’s activities. Lisa and Jill on the other hand had definitely done the right thing the night before and were feeling much better.

The experts at Englishtown have a well-devised, follow-up plan for the morning after the fiesta. A hike! Yes, a hike over the mountains and through the woods to a small town that looks much like Valdelavilla looked before its complete and total restoration. The hike follows a pre-historic road of sorts to arrive at the village, and the walking wasn’t too terribly taxing. After some exploring and minor accidental excavation, we were ready to head back. The damp, cool air was actually working wonders for our heroines and they were starting to really feel like themselves again. There were options for the hike back, either to go the way they had come, find a ride (the equivalent of hitchhiking in the Sahara) or climb a mountain and shave about 15 minutes off the total hiking time.

“Ohhhh, I wanna climb the mountain!” (Note: I really think this was a lingering after-effect of the codeine talking here)

“Ohhhh, me too!”

Did I mention that the mountains surrounding Valdelavilla are swarming with government-fed vultures?

So, with their spirits and bodies on the mend, although with conspicuously absent mental faculties, our heroines took to the hills, thinning air and all, to cavort with the vultures and balance on slippery, rocky ledges that looked down onto treacherous gullies hundreds and hundreds of feet below.

Did they survive the trek? What happens next? Stay tuned for more tales from Valdelavilla...

The Adventures of Jill And Lisa Part Seven

2011-04-08T10:48:00.002-04:00

Candy from Strangers by Jill

The last time we saw our struggling heroines, Jill was awakening from the depths of a cold and flu after attempting to kill the germs with the famed Spanish flaming cocktail, quemada, and Lisa was getting over her cold and jetlag and culture shock.

Shortly after the arrival of the flu, we were told that we would be having another special evening, a very special meal of paella to be followed by an all night fiesta.

Nothing could have sounded worse to Jill and Lisa at this point, than more odd food and all hours reveling.

A few dapper and chivalrous Spaniards, seeing the plight of our lovely heroines, did their best to come to the rescue. Let’s call them, oh, I don’t know, Juan* and Pepe*. (*Names have been changed to protect the guilty, innocent, and non-compliant).

Juan and Pepe appeared to have cart blanche, or whatever the Spanish term is for that French phrase used so widely in English, when it comes to Englishtown. The rest of us were not allowed to even think about leaving the property, but Juan and Pepe were enjoyed the freedom of being able to jump into their little BMWs and zip off to find civilization any damn time they pleased. Plus, they usually returned with some form of champagne or alcohol. Trust me, they were good friends to make.

Juan, Pepe, Lisa, and Jill and Nadine, another well-meaning “Anglo” ended up together in a group activity, which they decided would best be done in the living quarters of Juan and Pepe. The assignment (to come up with a new product that would change the world) was completed, but let’s just say it didn’t win any awards. I believe it was at this point that Jill began the difficult task of teaching Juan how to swear properly and appropriately in English. This tutelage lasted for 4 more days.

Now, the gallant Spaniards were fully aware of Jill’s health concerns, what with the constant coughing, blowing, sneezing, and general moaning and whimpering.

“Yil, Yil, you stay in your room tonight. You and Lisa. We bring you supper to your room.”

Hmmmm. As tempting as that sounded, I gotta tell you, red flags all over the place.

“No, no, I’ll be fine. We’ll be there for the paella. Wouldn’t miss it.”

“Here, you take some of this, it will make you feel better.”

Do you remember when your parents taught you not to take candy from strangers? Yes, so do I. Apparently I missed the part where they told me not to take unidentified pills from strangers in a remote location of a European country…you really do have to spell things out for me.

Stay tuned for more riveting tales…

Adventures of Jill and Lisa, Part Six

2011-04-03T08:30:00.005-04:00

By Jill

You know that feeling when you first wake up and your throat feels kind of full and scratchy and your head feels like it could possibly weigh about six times its normal size? Yes, that feeling. This is how Jill woke up on Monday morning, a full three days into the Valdelavilla experience.

Not that she didn’t try with all her might to keep it from happening. And not that she didn’t carefully follow a sort of prescribed regimen of medicinal procedures to keep it from getting any worse …

Let’s flashback to the night before waking up with the aforementioned sore throat and fever. It’s a night of mystery and intrigue. A night that was promised to change the entire course of our experience. A night that will ensure everything is made right and all the proverbial pieces of language learning will fall into place.

You guessed it, we were going to get sloppy-ass drunk.

But not just drunk, no, no, no. That would not be the Spanish way. Achieve a cheap buzz on some bad cerveza and inexpensive liquor? No.

We knew things were going to be different that night when we noticed the notorious wine drinking Spaniards abstained from the fine rioja that was at every table for lunch and dinner. “What’s this?” our heroines, Lisa and Jill asked themselves. “No wine with dinner?”

“No, no, no,” our Spanish friends said. “Tonight is….quemada.”

Quemada. Let me give you the short version of this tradition, nine different kinds of 1000% proof alcohol are mixed in a big silver bowl with dried fruit and coffee beans and then lit on fire while Celtic incantations are recited and we ask for blessing and the gift of enlightenment and something about cursing you with a smelly rear-end if you don’t believe in the ritual (The irony of which was not lost in translation, given the hoots of laughter as we read this in English and Spanish).

Seriously, you can’t make this stuff up.

So, my good Spaniards say, “Yil, Yil (the pronunciation of Jill), you must drink quemada to not get sick …”

Let me tell you, I’m pretty sure that the alcohol content in this concoction could have easily wiped out the bubonic plague, given the added bonus of a Celtic blessing, this Irish lass was game. “Bring it on!”

Lisa was so much more cautious. She took the cup offered her, gave it one sniff, and upon pronouncing it the odoriferous equivalent of gasoline, passed it up.

Jill on the other hand was not to be outdone by these fun-loving Spaniards. She took a gulp soon to be followed by that face two year olds make when you give them a slice of lemon or cough medicine or something they find to be equally distasteful.

“Wow!” (splutter, splutter, cough, gag) “Well, that’s some stuff!” After a few more half-hearted attempts to actually swallow the flaming kerosene, Jill decided she would just take her chances, and her more civilized glass of Bailey’s, and go to bed to wait for the worst.

Flash forward to Monday morning … wicked sore throat, raging fever, vile headache … so, apparently Jill was immune to the medicinal and magical powers of quemada … ok, let’s just say she may have even been allergic it.

Stay tuned to learn more about Lisa and Jill’s Spanish adventures regarding further attempts at self-medication and physical torture …

Adventures of Jill and Lisa, Part Five

2011-03-30T20:21:00.003-04:00

Can you say "yous"?

At this point in the saga, do you wonder what possessed two obviously brain-damaged women to travel to a foreign country and try to act “normal”?

I’m glad you asked.

We discovered a program in which native English speakers sit with native Spanish speakers for one week and converse in English. Talk and walk and chat and laugh and hang out and drink and drink and eat. Did I mention drink?

For seven days we were hidden in the hills of Spain (Soria to be precise) and lodged at a renovated village, originally built in the 1500s. We thought this would be a fabulous and unique vacation.

The day after we figured out how to turn on the lights, we met our group for a three-hour bus tour (not kidding) to our new mountain view home. Our checkout from the Hotel Atlantico was the same as our check in, but in reverse.

We flagged a cab to the meeting place with relatively no problems. We admired the architecture of Madrid and observed the lay-person rushing to his/her destination. After the standard pleasantries we boarded the bus and I fell asleep. I wish I could say it was from jetlag but somewhere along the way I caught a cold. Therefore, I took advantage of the “free time” to try and sleep off the stuffy nose.

We arrived to Valdelavilla (Englishtown) and dragged our luggage along cobblestone steps. I thought the cement paths at the airport were hard on our wheeled luggage, I had no idea what cobblestones could do.

After a wonderful lunch, we were escorted to the main desk to check in.

“Passports please.” A dark haired woman requested from behind the main desk.

She looked at my passport and then looked at Jill’s and started rambling in Spanish.

The only words I caught were “one bed” and “married.”

“One minute please,” she said in her best English.

Moments passed and after hearing the same words over and over again, I finally stepped in.

“We’re not married.” I pointed to Jill and myself. “I like her, but not that much.”

Everyone laughed, a bit nervously.

“Sometimes we cannot tell from the names the person’s gender,” she explained.

“I bet Jill isn’t a common name in Spain,” Jill whispered to me.

The woman looked up. “Oh no. We have plenty of Yills. We don’t have Lisa’s.”

I must admit, I was surprised. I grew up in a primarily African American and Spanish neighborhood. I knew at least four Lisa’s all of Spanish origins. I assumed that Lisa was a common name in Spanish speaking countries. Guess not.

After assigning us a new room with separate beds, we put our clothes away and freshened up for the introductory meeting with – Mr. Englishtown.

Yes, there is a Mr. Englishtown. He is the founder, the creator … in two words – The Man.

But The Man had some preconceived ideas about how English speakers talk.

He introduced himself to the room full of English speakers (from Canada, Australia and the US) and Spanish speakers, then asked each of us for introductions. After demonstrating the importance of enunciation “If I say, how is your dog, then you understand me. But if I say howsyurdawg then you may not,” he pulled some common slang from Australia (goodday), Canada (eh) and various ones from the US. OH yes, he tried to address the Philadelphian’s speech pattern.

“Lisa, what is it that all Philadelphians say?” he asked.

“I dunno. Dawg and caat?”

He smiled. “No. Don’t you people say “yous”?”

“Only if you’re watching a Rocky movie,” I mumbled.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“Uh sure …”

“See every area has a bastardization of the basic English language,” The Man declared.

Let’s be honest folks. The only time I have ever heard “yous” is either while watching Rocky or if I hang out on the docks. And I DON’T hang out on the docks.

Next was Jill’s introduction.

“Do you hear the silkiness of her voice? Spaniards. Listen.” He leaned closer to Jill. Of course the rest of the room followed suit, while Jill quickly turned the color of a rutabaga.

“Uh. What do you want me to say?”

“Spaniards. This is the woman you want to talk to, if you want to learn how to speak a smooootthhh, silky English.”

Jill and I looked at each other –Who is this guy and what’s with the silky stuff? Note: Jill is a professional voice over artist. This said, Mr. Englishtown was creepy.

After ensuring that Jill would be embarrassed even if she asked for a glass of agua, we finished our introductions and exited to our first set of meetings.

Come back next time for special guest blogging from Yill and discover some of the more colorful aspects of our trip to Englishtown.

The Adventures of Jill and Lisa Part Four

2011-03-27T08:51:00.004-04:00

Does This Room Come with Electricity?

We return to our heroines after a lovely not-really-Spanish lunch and an inviting trek through Grand Via and some not so enticing side streets, the time came to unpack.

We must flashback to when Jill and I first entered the hotel room. The hotel itself is probably a few hundred years old, which means the elevator was a retrofit and originally installed for the little people of the hills who owned child-size luggage (as the gentleman at the hotel desk kindly informed us). That’s right, the elevator could only fit one American at a time with one overstuffed piece of baggage. Of course we approached this challenge with ease, or rather the elevator decided for us. I entered the elevator and by the time I was able to pull, grab, yank and generally cajole my bag into it, the doors swooped closed and wide-eyed Jill stood in the hallway with a look of “what’d ya do that for?”

Luckily, the elevator was so small and the walls were so thin that when I said, “I’m sorry. It just closed. Besides, I don’t think all four of us would fit.” I could hear her laughter follow me up the elevator shaft. As any good friend would do, I waited in the hallway to our hotel room and listened to the familiar sounds and curses of an American trying to convince an oversized claustrophobic piece of luggage that it must get onto the elevator or else.

We got to our dark and stuffy room with windows covered by electric metal shutters that can only be moved via a switch on the wall. And, the lights were out.

All of them.

We tried to turn on the air conditioning unit, which stick out of the wall and close to the ceiling (Did I mention that Jill and I are 5’6” and 5’7” respectively?) We reached for the controls on the air conditioning unit. After moments of futility, I grabbed a chair and played with the knobs to get some air circulating. Meanwhile, Jill turned the switches on every light in the rooms; to no avail.

“Is electricity extra?”

“I don’t know. Can they do that?”

“Do what?”

“Charge extra for electricity.”

“Maybe that’s why the room was so cheap on hotels.com.”

“Maybe”

I am electing not to divulge who said what in the above exchange to protect the guilty and pathetic.

After forcing the air conditioner to spew some air and a little bit of coolness, we plopped on our beds to relax.

“What’s that?” Jill pointed to a slot next to the door.

“Dunno.”

Jill got up and examined the above mentioned slot then pulled out her hotel room key and inserted it.

BLING

And Jill said let there be light, and there was!

Maybe it wasn’t quite this dramatic but the room was well lit when she was done.

“That’s it. I’m taking a nap,” I mumbled into my pillow.

Return next week to see our heroines find their way around a 1500 year old village in the mountains of Spain and discover why they went there in the first place.

The Adventures of Jill and Lisa Part Three

2011-03-24T21:30:00.002-04:00

After a speedy drive to the Hotel Atlantico, we stood – sort of – before the hotel, hungry and wishing for a shower, food, and a nap.

“Hola, welcome to the Hotel Atlantico. Do you have a reservation?”

The first time the man at the desk said this, he said it in Spanish. Due to my limited vocabulary I understood “hola” and “Hotel Atlantico” and “reservation.” See, four years of high school Spanish does come in handy.

He noted that I was attempting to translate what he said and mistook it for utter perplexity. So, he repeated it in English.

“Oh yes, we have a reservation under Coutant,” I replied.

He immediately began his quest in the computer for our reservation.

Don’t worry, we had one and he found it. That’s not the funny part. Here’s the funny part.

“Where's a good place to go for lunch?” I asked. We were obviously salivating as I could hear Jill's stomach growling and I could feel the saliva running down my face.

“I’m sorry but no place will be open until 1:30 PM.”

1:30! It’s only noon now!

“Remember, this is Madrid. We don’t have lunch until at least 1:30 but you can go to a bar and get tapas,” he said.

Gotta tell you – tapas (appetizers eaten in between meals and often eaten as the primary dinner when going out socially) was not going to cut it. So, I smiled and responded, “We’ll learn to adjust to the Spanish culture. Thank you.”

We proceeded to get our room keys, flopped into our room and dug through Jill’s bags for the peanut butter and cheese crackers she brought for this type of emergency. After devouring at least one package each, unpacked, and freshened up; it was lunch time.

We wandered the streets and turned off the main road, Grand Via, to a cozy side road. Before us were many pedestrians, ladies clad in rather revealing clothing.

“Lisa. I think we should go back to the main road,” Jill pulled on my shirt.

“Why? Maybe there’s a good restaurant here,” I said, perplexed. Wasn’t she still hungry? I mean come on, peanut butter crackers just doesn’t cut it.

“Don’t you see the sign that says, Sex Shop?”

“What’s the word for sex in Spanish? I don’t know what sign I should be looking at,” I responded.

“It’s NOT in SPANISH. Let’s go.”

I followed Jill back to the main road, still missing the sign but now noting why the women were so scantily clad.

After a bit more wandering, we decide on a restaurant that displayed two menus, one in English and one in Spanish. This seemed like a good choice for us. I really wanted to try the three-course siesta meal (since lunch is the primary meal in Spain). We entered the restaurant and walked around and around and around in circles, trying to figure out where we should sit or who we should talk to so we could sit.

Finally a waiter looked at us with “Oh those poor stupid tourists” eyes and said, “Ingles?”

Jill and I looked at each other, “Yes.”

“Sit anywhere,” he said.

Of course this meant we needed to walk around and around and around until we found the perfect spot.

Once seated, the patient waiter brought us two menus in English.

“What’s that?” I asked Jill as we perused the menu selection. You see, although the menu was in English, many of the menu items that were unique to Spain were in Spanish and there was no explanation of what the food item really was.

“I don’t know. Look it up in our dictionary,” she said. We had a pocket dictionary to help us in times of pure desperation and this seemed to be the perfect opportunity to use it.

I thumbed through the pages – once, twice, three times …

“Nope,” I said.

“Nope what?” she asked.

“It’s not in here.”

“It must be in there.”

“I can’t find it.”

“Ask the waiter,” she said.

“Great idea …” After gaining the waiters attention – not necessarily an easy task – I asked my question.

“What’s this?” I pointed to the menu item.

“It’s …” He repeated what was already on the menu.

“Uh yes. I know what it’s called but I don’t know what’s in it.”

He rolled his eyes, “It’s an ENGLISH menu.”

“Yes. I know and thank you for pointing that out. Uhm. But I don’t know what’s in it.”

“It’s …” again with the name.

“Never mind,” I said – realizing that he probably didn’t know how to tell me what was in it.

“You ready to order?” he asked.

Jill and I glanced at each other.

“Sure,” Jill said. “I’ll have the grilled ham and cheese with French fries.”

“I’ll have this …” I pointed to a sandwich on the menu, thinking that I had made a fine native Spanish choice in food. Yes, I would truly experience the culinary delights of Spain if I had to experiment along the way.

After a brief wait, the server arrived with our food.

We thanked the waiter and I enjoyed my wonderful native Spanish meal – a ham omelet on toast; so much for experiencing native Spanish food.

Tune in next time for another installment of The adventures of Jill and Lisa – or how to make sure everyone knows you are a tourist.

Stranger In a Strange Land The Adventures of Jill and Lisa, Part 2 International Relations

2011-03-19T12:28:00.006-04:00

Any logical person would assume that getting out of the airport and to a well-known chain hotel is not a problem, right?

HA!

Let’s recap – when we last saw our heroines, Jill and Lisa, they were sitting in a cab outside the Madrid international airport, watching a lunatic taxi driver steal a woman’s luggage and toss it in the middle of the street, blocking any hope they had of expediently getting to their first destination – Hotel Atlantico in Madrid.

Our taxi driver jumped out of the car and waved his arms while barking something in Spanish to the crazy taxi driver. Meanwhile, the woman whose luggage had been held hostage yelled at the crazy man, “No. This is not for you. This is my luggage. I’m not getting in your cab!” Note: I am paraphrasing since I understand very little Spanish but I swear her arms flailing and facial expressions really did reflect this quote.) Then she yanked out her cell phone and began to call God-knows-who; possibly the international luggage hostage police.

Meanwhile, Jill – a bit annoyed – grabbed her handbag, ready to exit the taxi and said, “This Irish woman’s getting pissed.”

Now at this point, I am torn between jumping out of the cab and somehow getting our luggage back or hiding my head in my hands and curling into the fetal position and mumbling, “There’s no place like home, there’s no place like home, there’s no place like home,” while clicking imaginary ruby slippers.

Luckily, I didn’t have to turn to the ruby slippers for support. Instead, our taxi driver got back in the car and a police officer arrived and, rather slickly, lead the insane man away from the middle of the road so we could scoot past him and the luggage.

I guess the woman’s call to the international luggage hostage police worked.

Tune in next week (or sooner) for Part Three – What not to do when you want to eat in Madrid

Stranger In a Strange Land Part 1 AKA The Adventures of Jill and Lisa

2011-03-13T07:10:00.014-04:00

I recently took requests for blog posts via FaceBook. A dear friend tossed a great suggestion my way: to write a blog post about a stranger in a strange land. My response was that I'd have enough materials for a series. And so it shall be done. Of course, I'm going to reuse a series that another dear friend and I wrote several years ago about our experience traveling to Madrid in order to help tutor native Spanish speakers in the American English language. No better way to address the topic of a stranger in a strange land.

And now, the first installment of: The Adventures of Jill and Lisa

I've always been one to quickly jump at the chance to travel overseas so when I found an opportunity to have all of my expenses paid to go to Madrid except for the airfare and all I had to do was blather for ten days to native Spanish speakers, I immediately called one of my cohorts in crime to see if she would jump at the chance. And she did.

Fast forward to two American female tourists wandering the Madrid airport to be exact. We were both dragging wheeled luggage behind us, stacked with carry-on bags and praying that the next bump in the concrete would not break the wheels off the convenient, pull-along baggage.

Of course, we immediately needed a lavatory after an eight-hour flight from Philadelphia to Madrid that was relaxing for one (sitting next to a woman flying to Madrid for a wedding) and stressful for the other (sitting in the midst of Spanish teenagers returning home from a month in the United States). Luckily the universal sign for ladies room beaconed from across the baggage claim area.

After our brief affair with the bathroom, where we figured out the universal words for "oh that's disgusting" and "you want me to use what?"; we plunged into our next adventure - how to get out of the airport. Normally for two worldly, city women, this would not be a problem. But this was Madrid. And Madrid is not the friendliest location in terms of easily understood directions and signs.

Our options? After wading through the crowds and encircling the baggage claim area, we realized we could leave via one of two exits - the first was specifically for buses and the second was for everything else. I don't mean that the buses left the baggage claim area from that exit, but rather, that buses were awaiting passengers just outside that door.

Here's the conundrum - what kind of buses? You see, our hotel offered a shuttle and in some regions a shuttle and a bus are equivalent. After peering through the bus friendly door we concluded that this was specifically intended for tour buses, not hotel shuttles.

So we picked Exit B - everything else. Do you remember the black and white video clips of the Beatles first arrival in the U.S.?

Take that image, put it in color, add some dogs and children, and update the clothing. This gives you a good idea of the mob waiting on the other side of Exit B. This was the last greeting I expected, so I stood with my mouth agape, staring back at them. With the gentle nudging (and slight cursing) of my cohort in European travels, Jill, I closed my jaw and continued to trek my belongings out of the reach of the screaming and crying and toward the taxi area.

After we debated about where we should hail a taxi, a generous and friendly taxi driver took our oversized and under wheeled, overstuffed luggage and jammed them into his trunk.

As we tried to speed off to our hotel (since the shuttle wouldn't arrive for another two hours and the last thing we wanted to do was hang out in an airport) an infuriated taxi driver "borrowed" another woman's bags and laid them before our taxi, blocking our path.

What happened next? You'll have to check out the blog in a few days to find out. I love a good cliffhanger.

Who Me? An Adventure in Wrestling

2011-03-06T12:37:00.014-05:00

A long, long time ago on a planet far, far away, called New Jersey, I was much younger and thinner and had auburn hair down to my buttocks. My best friend, we'll call her Ria, had the same MO but her hair was jet black.

Ria and I met at a television production company called NISE productions. We met on the set. At first I was a participant in a television show and then, as an internship, I transitioned to a Production Assistant role (which was the same job Ria had). We hit it off instantly and were inseparable.

One of the benefits of working behind the scenes for a production company is that we had access to free tickets to many events and oftentimes were invited backstage (OK, maybe the fact that Ria looked like Tia Carrere and I looked like Julia Roberts, in her Pretty Woman days, had something to do with it). Although we were poor, we had a lot of fun. I remember buying exactly two dollars worth of gas so we had enough money for a Taco Bell special before our next payday.

Ria loved wrestling. WWF, WCW, you name the W and she probably knew about it and could quote the wrestlers.

"Oh my god, Jimmy Snuka is going to be in town." She flashed two tickets in front my face. I had been busy reading some book, one of the many that I devoured at the time. Possibly Riders on the Storm: My Life with Jim Morrison and the Doors by John Densmore or I'm With The Band by by Pamela DesBarres or a classic like The Great Gatsby or The Last of the Mohicans or Brahm Stoker's Dracula.

"OK. So what does this mean?" I pointed at the tickets. I looked closer and they were two comps to an ECW show across town.

"Snuka will be here with them." She waved the tickets in my face. "Chuck gave me these tickets. We're going!" Chuck was a Production Manager who, I'm guessing, had no interest in seeing grown men beat the beejeeberz out of one another, even if it was staged.

I wasn't a huge wrestling fan. I had more fun figuring out how they weren't killing each other rather than paying attention to the show, but it was a free night out, so why not?

We dressed in our typical 90's wear (I told you this was a long time ago). Stretch biker shorts, black heeled boots, a red top and my hair pulled away from my face in a headband. Ria in a similar outfit but in black. I had never gotten into the AquaNet craze, my hair never poofed to twice the size of my head. In retrospect, I'm thankful for my hair's rebellious ways.

We arrived at the arena and took our seats among the other fans. A gentleman with his son reached over and tapped me on the shoulder. "Who are you with?"

Who am I with? What the heck did that mean? "No one," I said.

"Come on. You're with someone."

"Okay. I'm with her then." I motioned to Ria. The man moved his son to the other side of him and away from us.

Quite a few matches were on the docket. After three or four, I had grown bored. I wanted to go home and I told Ria that.

"Snuka's the feature so he's last. I promise we can leave after that," she said.

I sighed. "Okayfine."

"Next up, the title death match! The Southern King versus ..." fill in a standard wrestler name. They dimmed the lights and in came this wiry little guy with short blonde hair in a stretch one piece decorated like a Southern flag. I could have kicked the crud out of him, he was so small. "The South will rise again!" he cried.

Really? He and his challenger pranced around the ring, called each other names, flipped each other the bird, you know, the norm. I stood up to stretch my legs and contemplated getting a soda. I wouldn't be missing much. I leaned down and whispered to Ria. "Bet the Southern guy gets beat." Ria nodded and smiled.

Translation: I'm busy watching the show, go away.

The Southern King ripped the microphone from the announcer's hands. "I'm dedicating this match to my woman. The Lady in Red!" And blammo - the lights grew dark and a spotlight shown. Can you guess where?

Partially blinded by the light that now shown on me, I looked all around for whomever he referenced.

"Sweetie, don't be shy. This one's for you!" He pointed to me which dissolved any hope that he wasn't referencing moi.

The gentleman sitting next to us allowed his son to return to his previous seat. "You coulda told me," he said.

I smiled. That's all I could do. I really wanted that soda. They turned the lights back up and the pair wrestled. Can you guess who won? Yep. Mr. Southern Slick-man.

He did more primping and such. He waved me over and I remained in my seat. I refused to get up. Then the announcer called the next show which was Snuka. Ria owed me big-time.

At the end of the Snuka match a young man came up to me. "Excuse me? Miss? I'm sorry, what's your name?"

I think I made up a name, like Cinnamon.

"Ms. Cinnamon. Mr. Southern King would like to know if you would like to join him backstage?"

I looked over and clustered in front of a rear door was four wrestlers including Mr. Southern Slicky. They waved in unison. I waved back.

"Can my friend come too?" I asked.

He glanced at Ria and coughed. "Of course. Yeah, sure."

Ria practically bounced up from her seat.

"Please tell Mr. Southern King or whatever that I'm flattered by the offer but I will have to say no thank you," I said.

"Okay great, so if you follow me." He began to direct us toward the wrestlers. "Wait? Did you say no?"

"That's right." I waved at them again and gave a brief smile.

He widened his eyes and shuffled in place.

"Go ahead and tell them and thank you for telling me." I shoo'ed him away, waited until the guy got halfway across the stadium, and then nudged Ria. "Let's jet."

"Why? Why'd you say no?" She asked.

Admittedly, I said no for two reasons: 1. I was offended that this guy thought I would go backstage by myself. I wouldn't leave Ria alone and I definitely didn't want to be the lone female. 2. I didn't think it was a smart nor safe move to go backstage since I didn't think they wanted me to teach a knitting class.

"Are you really asking me that question?" I asked.

She picked up her stuff and we headed for the door.

I turned to see the kid telling the wrestlers the news and then not one, not two, but three of the wrestlers decide that it would be a good idea to follow us.

I grabbed Ria's hand and we ran for the car. She had a speedy little number which came in handy at that moment. I waved goodbye as we flew out of the parking lot.

Pennwriters Conference Registration Is Now Open!

2011-03-05T09:39:00.002-05:00

If you are an aspiring writer, definitely check this out. It's comparatively inexpensive and an amazing community of writers. I hope you join us from May 13 through May 15 for workshops, chats, and more! And, of course, I'll be there (which for some is a motivator and for others not-so-much).

See below for registration information.

In case our whoops of joy didn't wake you up, we wanted to alert you that registration is now officially open for the 2011 Pennwriters Conference! Thank you for your patience.

You can register online at www.regonline.com/pennwriters2011 , or link to the site through www.pennwriters.org.

You'll find the online registration very easy — so pop on over and you'll be done lickity-split. And for your convenience, you can choose to pay by check, credit card or PayPal. While we highly recommend (we won't go so far as to plead) that you register online, should you wish to "kick it old school" and mail in your registration, you'll find a form on the Pennwriters website as well as in the March issue of The Penn Writer newsletter.

ONE MORE THING: PLEASE HELP US SPREAD WORD ABOUT THE CONFERENCE!
Conference PR Chair Mercedes Goldcamp and Materials/Design Chair Heather Desuta have developed many wonderful materials to help you do just that. They are just a click away from the Pennwriters homepage at:
http://www.pennwriters.org/prod/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=267

There you'll find downloadable:
Conference brochure
Conference flyer
Friday Keynote Dinner flyer
Conference logo/button (to place on websites and link to the PW website)
Press release
One-page summary/article
Ready-to-place classified ads (30-word and 50-word)

They are fun and easy to use! Or email Mercedes Goldcamp your promotion/PR idea at oconnormercedes@gmail.com

Thank you for helping make the 2011 Pennwriters Conference a success! We look forward to see each and every one of you May 13-15.

Our best,

Meredith Mileti Cohen & Julie Long
Co-coordinators Pennwriters Conference
May 13-15 2011, Pittsburgh

The Things We Do For Realism, Part Deux

2011-02-27T21:20:00.005-05:00

And now, we continue with our tale of the bizarre, the grotesque, the sun burnt.

James and I had decided to pack up our stuff, blanket and all, and head back. He had enough observations of the female torso. Heading back may have meant returning home or going to a local Barnes and Noble or what have you, but we were definitely done with the crackly music and the felt clothing and such.

We made our way around the fair ground one final time, just in case we missed something urgent, like an incredibly cute and cheap cowboy hat that I had to buy (cough). As we exited, a five foot five blonde man wearing leather chaps (in the summer, mind you) came up to us. "James!" He waved his hands in the air as if we wouldn't be able to see him.

James put his hand on my arm to stop me from continuing forward. "He's the organizer," James said.

The organizer? This man was short with long blonde hair and blue eyes. "What tribe is he from?"

"Do you think he knows?" James said as he smiled the smile of a host appeasing a guest.

"James I'm so glad you could make it." The two shook hands. "I'm surprised you brought her with you. Ya know, considering. Does she know?"

I was busy fanning myself. I had gotten sunburned even under the shaded tree so my skin was a few shades brighter than a cooked lobster. I looked at James for some guidance in terms of what this man talked about.

"We're old friends," James said about me through clenched teeth.

"Cuz you know, if you wanted to bring a 'friend' then that'd be fine. We don't discriminate here."

"I'm sorry?" I said.

"I'm just saying that we don't discriminate. Heck if you're a homo then that's fine. You coulda brought one of your homo friends. Ain't no difference to me." He smiled.

I cringed and looked at James for a reaction. He simply nodded as if he listened but I have the feeling he was really listening to music inside his head or maybe he wrote a grocery list. I wanted to kick this little blonde guy.

"Did I tell you my girlfriend just dumped me?" the short, blonde man said. "I need foot surgery and she said she's had enough of me. Guess I better start looking."

I had decided to split my attention between this conversation and observing small children running around the grounds. They chased one another, the felt clothing falling off of them in the summer sun.

"Say, you're hot," our small blonde visitor said to me.

"Excuse me?" I asked. Since his comment seemed to have come out of no where, I was a bit defensive.

James nudged me in the ribs. "Don't blow it. He's in charge," James whispered.

I looked at him with the "Are you kidding me?" look. "Thanks," I said to blondie.

"I'm Bob. I helped coordinate this shindig but we wouldn't of got nearly the turnout if it wasn't for James," he said.

"Yes, James is pretty great." I continued to fan myself and hoped this conversation would end so I could retreat into some place air conditioned.

"Can I have your phone number?" Bob said to me. "Considering you're so hot and all. Oh wait, are you married?"

I looked down at my hands and wished I had worn one of my rings that resembled a wedding ring. "No, I'm not married."

"Great! Where you live? You got insurance?"

I looked at James in the hopes that he could help me escape. "She's in Philadelphia," James said.

"Well, that's kinda far out but I think I can manage. You drive, right?" Bob said to me.

"Yes, I drive."

After much insistence on the part of Bob I gave him a phone number. Not necessarily my phone number but a phone number just the same. As we walked to the car, James said, "Thank you for that. He called me every other day to get us to come to this thing."

"It's fine," I said while I eagerly anticipated the coolness of the air conditioning in my Mini Cooper. "Just don't give him my real phone number, please."

The Things We Do In the Name of Realism

2011-02-26T16:57:00.006-05:00

On a hot summer day, James and I rested in the shade of trees, atop a blanket. We had just finished eating real Native American cuisine (Gyros) from one of the vendors at the Lancaster County Native American Festival. I listened to the pre-recorded Native American music as it blasted through speakers. Attendees dressed in multicolored felt clothing danced as if they imitated scenes from movies like The Last of the Mohicans, Blazing Saddles, or Dances with Wolves. The Gyro formed a ball in my stomach.

My friend had been writing a book for years, diligently revising it, eager to get each word, every sentence, each paragraph exactly right. He had invited me to attend this event, since he had to cover it for the newspaper he represented.

He informed me that he had written this one character of his novel based on me. She was the heroine and the love interest of another primary character. I was quite flattered. I adored his writing.

"I have one problem," he said. He sat up and leaned against his arm. "Need physical details."

I rubbed my stomach, hoping it would help alleviate the knot that had formed. "You could watch porn or go to a museum. That's what naked statues are for."

"No, darling. I need to see your tattoos."

I rolled onto my side and pushed my sunglasses into my hair. The tinny music had stopped. One of the coordinators had taken the microphone to announce a lottery to benefit the Native American Society.

"What? Why?"

"Well, this needs to be realistic."

"Have you lost your mind?"

"I don't want you to get naked. Just lift your top. Pretend you're sun bathing." He made this motion with his hands as if that would magically reveal my midsection.

Now, if this was anyone other than this specific friend, I would have thought he was propositioning me. But since it was James, I knew that this was an impossibility. James had realized he was gay at an early age and he had had one attempt at heterosexual exchange in his teens at a Motel 8 type location which ended with him running, screaming from the hotel room, clutching his clothes to his chest.

"What? When?" I looked around the festival grounds and hoped no one overheard this conversation. The tinny music had begun again. An older man danced in the circle, thumping his feet against the ground, slowly making his way from one end of the circle to the other.

James shrugged. "No one's looking."

I shifted onto my back and put my sunglasses over my eyes. I stared up into the tree limbs above me. I lifted my shirt, just high enough so that he could see the tattoo around my not-real-belly-button, and my side. High enough so that it'd look like I was tanning, as long as no one noted that I lay in the shade and am naturally the coloring of Casper the Friendly Ghost.

He oo'ed and ahhh'ed. And feigned as if he was going to touch my abdomen.

I looked at him like he had lost brain cells. "What are you doing?" I tried to whisper but based on the reaction of a couple sitting relatively closely, I failed.

"Isn't that what hetro guys do?" He asked.

"No."

James shrugged. "Their loss."

The rest of the day continued with the tinny music and real Native American fare. We didn't stay too much longer after this. A few more interesting events occurred that I'd be happy to save for another blog post. Later I read the section of his manuscript in which he captured my physical details. It was interesting to see my body from someone else's view. One that I had never anticipated nor expected.

New Pennwriters Keynote

2011-02-26T11:07:00.002-05:00

Just wanted to share this news that Jackie Mitchard will be the keynote for Pennwriters this May in Pittsburgh. For more information go to www.pennwriters.org. I cannot tell you how thrilled I am that Jackie Mitchard agreed to be the Pennwriters keynote this year. She's a phenomenal lady. Yet again, the conference coordinators, Meredith and Julie have done a fantastic job.

Jacquelyn Mitchard

Jackie has an incredible personal story. Facing financial insecurity after her husband died, she persevered to write her first novel, The Deep End of the Ocean. It was chosen as Oprah's first book club selection, and USA Today named it one of the 10 most influential books of the past 25 years — second only to the Harry Potter series. Since then, Mitchard has gone on to write eight novels, all bestsellers, as well as four novels for young adults. She is also a contributing editor for Parade, a frequent contributor to Real Simple, More and Glamour, and a mother to nine children. Jackie thinks "constantly of how the written word must sustain us as we write through the hard times — our own and in publishing. That we can and must is a substantial solace to me." You can understand why we believe her keynote address will be moving and wonderful. Don't miss it!
You can read more about Jackie Mitchard on the Pennwriters website and at www.jackiemitchard.com, and see her speak on Friday evening, May 13 at the 24th Annual Pennwriters conference.

We are days away from opening registration on March 1!
Your co-coordinators,
Julie & Meredith
Julie Long
Co-coordinator Pennwriters Conference
May 13-15 2011, Pittsburgh
jlongwrites@mac.com
www.julielongwrites.com

And This Too Shall Revert to the Past ...

2011-02-20T12:32:00.010-05:00

When I was a child and a teen I had a tendency to say things a little too bluntly.

"Does that bra fit right? I think your boobs are too big," I had told a classmate who had blossomed quite early and her hormones worked faster than her parents could purchase the correct fitting undergarments.

She nearly cried. Her response told me that I had said something horribly wrong. I spent years learning how not to say such things. How to be sensitive to others.

When I was 19 years old, my boyfriend and I would get into knock-'em-out fights on the phone and part of this involved hanging up on one another. Okay, I hung up on him. He didn't hang up on me. But that's a technicality.

As I grew older I realized how mean and callus it was to have a fight in which I ensured I maintained control by demonstrating I could leave at the flick of a button (an Off button, that is), so I stopped behaving that way. I quit picking fights or participating in arguments that were fueled by passion and a desire to get even for wrongs - real or imagined.

And then ...

I'm not sure what happened. I've spent the last twenty or more years being careful in my word choice and in what I shared. Occasionally, I slip up (and I'm infamous for the double-entendre). I apologize quickly or say something self-effacing, once I realize I've offended or hurt someone.

And then ...
I've managed to curb the need to comment on clothing and hairstyle selection. I've learned to give feedback in a polite and gentle manner.

Yet , there are occasions when I've tried to be polite, nice, and kind and the person isn't listening. Imagine being on the phone and I say to you, "What are you doing this weekend? Yeah. Uh-huh. So, I have a ton of homework to do. Tight deadlines and all."

What would you say? Would you say, "OK, I'll let you go then" or something to that affect? Or would you continue the conversation as if I hadn't mentioned a heavy workload, intimating the desire to get off the phone?

I've found myself in situations of late in which the answer to the above question, by the party on the other end of the line, was the latter. In the past I have politely listened on, tapping my fingers on the table or shaking my legs, visible signs of annoyance and a desire to leave and when asked if I needed to go, I said, "Oh no. I'm fine. Continue, please."

And then ...
On a work evening I was on the phone with an individual and I had hinted, repeatedly, that I needed to get off the phone. I believe I said, "I need to go. I have a lot of work to do." And the party continued to talk.

So guess what I did?

I hung up the phone.

Isn't that horrible? I simply clicked the End button and put my phone down. I watched as the person called back, not once, but twice. I cannot describe the relief at no longer being trapped in a conversation that I had tried to end for at least ten minutes.

I do not do this frequently, but I have found freedom in allowing the phone to ring without picking it up, keeping my head in my book of choice or singing along with iTunes (latest faves include P!NK, Tampa Red, John Mayer, and Motley Crue).

I see this as a type of reversion. Not a complete tipping of the scales but a definite leveling from one extreme back to center (or a little off center).

I think of the movie Fried Green Tomatoes when the main character intentionally hit a teenager's car because she was sick of being treated like an invalid since she wasn't in her teens. Her response when the teenagers freaked out about it? "Face it girls. I'm older and I have more insurance."

Yeah, it's like that.

Beauty & the Beast We've Created

2011-02-13T10:55:00.007-05:00

Before I begin my rant, I want to state that I am a huge fan of MAC Cosmetics. I wear it, almost
exclusively, due to the quality of the product and the good price point. I also enjoy the creativity that is a focal point for MAC Cosmetics. MAC artists are truly innovative.

This said, MAC posted on their Facebook page, a number of photos from New York's Fashion Week in which, MAC provided the make up artistry for shows like Richard Chai and Erin Fetherston. I am completely disheartened that fashion continues to promote such "visions of beauty" and I continually question if people understand the origins of the perceived need for beauty to equal such waif-like images that women and men are prone to eating disorders.

I remember watching a show on the History channel about the origins of modeling and a segment that focused on catwalk models. This is when I learned of the concept of models being as thin as coat hangers, so that the model's bodies would most enhance the clothing as art. My immediate response upon hearing this was, "Who wants to look like a coat hanger? Isn't this backwards? Shouldn't clothing be made to enhance the human body and its beauty?"

The twisted view of a human to replicate a coat hanger has snowballed into images like the one above and the one to the left. Millions of women, and now men, agonize over their image and are judged by the size of their waistline, encouraging anorexia, bulimia, and bad self-image. How many stars have we seen begin their careers with beautiful shapes (like Julia Roberts and Angelina Jolie) only to starve themselves down to painful sizes. When will our society stop glorifying such unhealthiness and begin glorifying the wonders of a natural manly and womanly shapes?

As a teenager, I was thrilled to see Supermodels like Tyra Banks and Claudia Schiffer. Women with curves who clearly didn't starve themselves (They may have worked out six hours a day, but they didn't starve themselves). To me this was a step in the right direction.

Somehow our society keeps reverting back to this unhealthy, unrealistic image that we glorify to one another. Not just teenagers and those in their twenties, but to all. We glorify youth and these unrealistic and, for most, unattainable images, and then wonder why gorgeous young women think they are ugly because the are a few pounds heavier than what they see in magazines and on television. We wonder why there's an increase in young men having anorexia and bulimia. And we wonder why segments of our society are so caught up on image and two dimensional figures instead of the depths of the human condition, the wonders of the world around us, and the beauty within all of us, no matter our shape, our size, the length of our inseam or the arch of our brow.

I would love to see MAC have a fashion show with real people and demonstrate how beauty from within can be exemplified and projected through the brushstroke of a makeup wand and the artistry of a photographer who loves his subjects and sees their inner beauty.

Valentines

2011-02-12T21:49:00.002-05:00

I have never been a big fan of Valentine's Day. Not because of the commercialism, which is significant, nor because of the degradation of the original intent of St. Valentine's Day, but because I would rather surprise someone I care about with flowers or a heartfelt note on any given day, than wait for a day that's been predetermined.

As a child and teenager, I happened to be in the hospital a few times. I was lucky because friends and family had showered me with cards, flowers, and gift baskets. When the nurses weren't looking, I'd sneak out of my hospital bed and find a quiet room that seemed bare, except for the patient. I would slip onto the rolling table one of the baskets of flowers, sans the personal note, and tip-toe my way back to my own room. If I couldn't get out of bed (it happened), I would ask someone who visited me to take one of the bouquets of flowers and do the same.

In my twenties, friends of mine and I gathered together and swore that we would recognize one another with caring words, surprise one another with small gifts, and the like, to demonstrate our caring and gratitude for each other and the friendship we provided to one another.

To this day, I try to continue that same sentiment by demonstrating to friends, family, and even strangers my gratitude for their kindness, caring, and thoughtfulness through notes, words, and sometimes a small gift (and no, I don't mean a yacht or a diamond bracelet ... if you want those talk to Donald Trump). The efforts never saccharine, but rather honest.

With this, I wish you a happy Valentine's Day but even more, I wish you wonderful days, year round, and the joy of having caring, supportive, and trusting relationships in all areas of your life. And as an extension of this, I wish for you to value those relationships by returning and acknowledging the sentiments of those you care about, each and every day. You'd be surprised how much happier your life becomes as well as the quality of life for those you know.

Why Charles Baxter Is A Literary God

2011-02-05T20:44:00.004-05:00

Okay, so maybe the title is a bit of an exaggeration but when I'm done telling you my story, you may agree.

I first encountered Charles Baxter, or rather his works, when I was taking workshops with Rittenhouse Writers Group. I begged James Rahn to give me a list of all the books I had to read. I devoured each and every one. There was one, in particular, that I adored, The Feast of Love, by Charles Baxter. I was amazed at his technique and ability to shift, seamlessly, from one chapter to another, and each chapter was from the perspective of a different narrator. It is truly a beautiful book. I wanted to learn how Mr. Baxter does what he does, so I looked up his influences and that's when I learned of The Master and Margarita by Mikhail Bulgakov. This is also how I learned the transition techniques that Baxter seemed to have learned from Bulgakov.

When I had the opportunity to be the Feature's Editor of The Picolata Review, I contacted Mr. Baxter, hoping he would let me interview him ... and he did. I sent him several questions to which he provided quite detailed answers. For someone as accomplished as he, I was ecstatic and honored that he would grace the fledgling publication with his words.

And then, today, at the Association of Writers and Writing Professionals (AWP) Conference, I attended a panel, in which Mr. Baxter participated, about how to revamp the standard workshop. I was blown away by his commentary and immediately I knew what he talked about. He discussed how writers transition in their skills through three stages:
Stage 1: the new writer is still learning basic technique and that can be learned by reading approximately 100 books that were published in the last 100 - 200 years and study the books for technique.
Stage 2: the basic techniques are mastered and now the writer has developed his/her own voice and is beginning to deviate from the basic techniques now that s/he has those basics ingrained.
Stage 3: the master returns to being a student. Each new novel or story is a type of relearning; a new adventure in writing as an art.

I immediately thought of the last residency I had at Fairfield. I remembered sitting in Eugenia Kim's workshop and as we went around the room on the first day, I immediately knew at what place my fellow students were in their writing journey. I found this fascinating because this was the first time I had that experience -- a type of emotional separation from the workshop, which provided opportunity for me to understand what level my cohorts were in their own writing journeys which then assisted me in understanding where their feedback came from (because there is a correlation between the type of feedback provided and where a writer is in his/her skill level). So when Mr. Baxter brought up the three stages, I could place my colleagues into what stage they were in. Brilliant! And a tremendous help in providing feedback that would be valuable for their current stage of writing.

I'm telling you, the man is a literary god. I only hope that one day I can workshop with him (or even just sit down and chat for a bit). Admittedly, my wussy-ness took over and I didn't approach him and introduce myself formally. I'm afraid I would regress to my stuttering tendencies and forget my name (Yes, when I was younger I would forget my name when I was in a high stress environment.)

Difficult Decisions

2011-02-05T09:43:00.003-05:00

This weekend I'm at the Association of Writers and Writing Professionals (AWP) Conference. I had never attended before, and I must say that it's quite overwhelming. Two enormous hotels in Washington, DC are filled with around 7,000 attendees. The selection of seminars is incredible and spans quite a breadth of topics.

There was one seminar I was especially interested in, and it was regarding how to start a writer's community. This intrigued me because I wanted to get some tips on how I could improve Running Wild. I left with much greater knowledge and insights from communities like Grubb Street, City Lit, and the Loft.

And I came away with a realization that had been playing in my subconscious for quite a while. I want to write. I don't want to teach. I don't want to lecture. I want to write. And all of the classes that I've been teaching, although valuable and I've learned great lessons from each and every one of my students, have taken me away from my originating passion - to put words on a page that evoke images, stories, feelings, of those who read them. What started off as a compliment to my writing, overtook the time I had dedicated to putting words on the page, to the point where I found it more and more difficult to find time to write.

With that epiphany, I made the decision to close Running Wild's doors. I am planning to maintain the relationships I've built with the attendees, as I continue down my own writing journey.

A tremendous thanks to everyone for their support, caring, and collaboration. And with that, I close this door of my own literary journey and follow a path behind door number two.

Philadelphia Critique Group Meets Tuesday, January 25

2011-01-23T17:38:00.002-05:00

Don't miss the Pennwriters Philadelphia Critique Group which meets Tuesday, January 25 at 7:30 PM in 525 S. 4th. St., Studio 240A, Philadelphia, PA. The building is on 4th St. between South St. and Lombard.

Take the elevator to the second floor. Turn right and then take your immediate left. The studio is on the left. On the door it is noted, "Running Wild" and "Luna Theater".

If you are a Pennwriter, then the critique group is free. If you are not a Pennwriter, then you are welcomed to join us for up to three times and then we ask that you join.

This critique group is one of the many perks of joining Pennwriters. For more information on Pennwriters, go to www.pennwriters.org
Critique Rules:
1. Bring up to five pages of your work (following standard manuscript guidelines) to be read silently by your fellow attendees. Remember to bring multiple copies to share.
2. Initially, fellow writers will read the work and then provide feedback.
3. Feedback is provided with the best intent. Three positive aspects and three areas of focus for revision. Focus on the positive and how to improve the piece.
4. If your work is being reviewed, keep an open mind. Don't respond to the feedback initially. Wait until the last person has provided input and then you are welcome to ask questions.

If you have any questions about the critique group, feel free to call or email me at lisa@runningwildwriters.org

I Have a Dream

2011-01-17T12:46:00.003-05:00

"I say to you today, my friends, so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.

I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: 'We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal.'

I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.

I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.

I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.

I have a dream today." - Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr, Lincoln Memorial, Washington, DC, on August 28, 1963.

I'm sure we are familiar with this speech. One that is considered a landmark in American history, as it should. On this day that commemorates Dr. Martin Luther King's efforts, I wanted to talk a little bit about my own dream.

Americans have come a long way from where we were in 1963, I was proud to see that we had overcome so much since that historic speech, that we voted Barack Obama to be the President of the United States. There was a time I didn't think that was possible. I didn't think that Americans as a whole would come together to vote in someone of a race other than Caucasian.

But we have so much farther to go. I hear words like diversity and equality tossed around as if we, Americans, know what we are talking about. But do we?

According to Webster's Dictionary, diversity is "the condition of having or being composed of differing elements : variety; especially : the inclusion of different types of people" and equality is defined as "the quality or state of being equal".

I want to focus on these two words for a moment. Diversity - "the inclusion of different types of people" and equality - "the state of being equal"

No where in these definitions do we reference race. No where do we stop the definition of equality only at race or ethnicity. Nor should we. I have a dream that Americans will open our eyes and understand that diversity and inclusion isn't about the color of skin. It's about seeing people for who they are and accepting them for who they are. Not what they are, not their gender or their ethnicity or their physical attributes. Not basing people on their schooling or social status. But rather accepting each other for the beautiful individuals that we are.

I have a dream that one day, we as a nation will focus on the part of Dr. King's speech that talks to judging one another by the content of our character. And so it should be.

Reality Check

2011-01-15T09:28:00.005-05:00

This past year has been a difficult one, in many ways. I had a few friends pass away rather unexpectedly. I have worked incredibly hard at my day job, many times working through the weekends to make sure we provided the highest quality service to our customers. Ensuring we engaged the right people at the right time and doing the best for the organization. I also worked very hard at graduate school, oftentimes giving up visits with friends I haven't seen in years to focus on my writing for the weekend or the week. And, even after ending a marriage in 2006 and getting legally divorced back in 2007, I continue to be in a litigation battle with my ex-husband, praying for the last tie to be severed. Unfortunately, I seem to be the only one eager to sever this tie.

At the end of 2010, I felt empty and exhausted on many fronts. The unexpected loss of friends who had bright futures was painful. At times I questioned why such things happen. The five year battle with my ex is one that seems like it will never end. Whenever the topic arises, I can feel myself wither. I will not go into my work challenges here, that would be inappropriate. As for graduate school, I have gotten much reward for the time spent with the understanding that I have a lot more work to do on the manuscript I'm developing before it is publication ready.

All of these topics have weighed heavily on me. Many nights I simply wanted to give up. I just wanted to tell everyone to kiss off, I've had enough. I was tired of being tolerant, fair, collaborative, kind, jovial, and guiding. I wanted to tell everyone to take care of their own problems, find their own solutions, and quit coming to me for help. I had grown tired of asking for help and providing help without it being reciprocated.

And then I realized that the only person who can change my attitude and my life is me. Instead of looking at the high stress levels and focusing on the unfairness of life and work and such, I needed to focus on how I can make my own life better. What can I do to change the situations I'm in? Suddenly I could see a little bit of light at the end of the tunnel. I know that it's a cliche to stop focusing on the negative and instead focus on the positive, but in this instance it's true. I've spent the last several months trying to be positive about rather negative situations, and I've felt like I keep hitting a brick wall and I come away with bruises and scrapes and migraines.

I will stop trying to change that brick wall or make that brick wall pay attention to what I have to say. Instead I will focus on those areas that promise a ray of light, a hope, results, and fulfillment. With this, I hope you find your ray of light in 2011. I have just seen mine.

Excuses - Best Get Rid of 'Em

2011-01-08T20:45:00.003-05:00

Had to share this. Thank you to Yori, trainer and athlete extraordinaire for forwarding this to me.

ex•cuse
n. ik-skyoos
An explanation offered as a reason for being excused; a plea offered in extenuation of a fault or for release from an obligation, promise, etc.

I don’t have enough money.
It’s too hard.
I don’t have enough time.
I don’t have the talent.
I started too late.
I don’t have a place to work.
I’m tired.

Nobody will work with me.

Really?

Leo Tolstoy wrote War and Peace while living in a small house with his wife and 13 children.

Greta Garbo held steady through seven months of hardball silence after negotiating a new (fair) contract with Louis B. Mayer. Mayer eventually caved and she got her price.

Walt Disney was a failed, bankrupt, small-time ad man before that whole mouse thing happened.

J.K. Rowling was on the dole. Her first Harry Potter book was rejected by twelve publishers. It was eventually purchased by the relatively small Bloomsbury in London, and that only because the CEO’s daughter begged him to print it.

Mark Twain sunk $300,000 of his own money (and much of his wife’s) into a typesetting machine that was eventually, brutally, made obsolete.

e.e. cumming’s first book of poetry was rejected by fifteen publishers. He self-published it, dedicated it to the fifteen rejectors, and became one of America’s greatest poets.

Crippled by depression, self-doubt, and living in a cruelly sexist era, Mary Anne Evans changed her identity to George Eliot and became one of the most beloved English novelists of all time.

Abraham Lincoln lost multiple jobs, went bankrupt, and failed in numerous bids for public office before being sworn in as the 16th President of the United States.

Georges Simenon completed each of his legendary Maigret detective novels in an undisturbed, 11-day sprint.

Isaac Asimov wrote or edited more than 500 books in his lifetime. Oh, and that’s in addition to being a professor of biochemistry at Boston University.

So you’re going to let your excuses stop you? Really?

How I Spent My Winter Vacation

2011-01-08T08:58:00.003-05:00

After two weeks in Mystic (Enders Island) Connecticut, I returned on Thursday, driving down the icy highway in my fabulous Mini, sans heat. Boy, am I glad I have heated seats, otherwise more than the cement would have been frozen.

I spent Friday morning working while at the Mini dealer (I even lead a conference call while in the waiting room. Shhhh ...) Glad I brought my car in immediately because the thermostat died and so did a fan thingie that the dealership never, ever heard of breaking before now ... ever. Such is the talent of a redheaded writer.

The last two weeks were fantastic, overwhelming, exhausting, and quite productive. I began by spending Christmas Eve and Christmas Day in a cozy little inn within Mystic and I had the grand chance to enjoy dinner with two wonderful friends.

Why was I in Mystic, you may ask? Well, I may answer. I am a graduate student in a low residency program via Fairfield University and twice a year all of us creative types are locked away on a secluded island (so we don't scare the tourists) to take classes, write, read, and learn. It's a rather intensive time. Most people crash on the sixth or seventh day. It's like your body screams, "Have you lost your mind? Why are we doing this to ourselves?" and then by the seventh or eighth day, the body calms down after the hissy-fit and allows the writer to return to his/her regularly scheduled program.

I spent my down time revising a manuscript or at least identifying the areas of the manuscript that need to be rewritten, chapters that need to be drafted, etc. I was determined, I was productive, I was deranged, and I was really tired by the end of it. Luckily, by the next to the last day of the residency, I had finished what I had intended to do and just in time. I have a class on Charlaine Harris's use of Characterization I need to finish writing (I teach it online in February through Savvy Authors). I'll be teaching another class on the use of structure in The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo in May.

I had the pleasure of attending workshops with Eugenia Kim and Joan Connor. Both brilliant authors. Both fantastic women. I was truly blessed to have had the chance to work with each of them. I was also pleasantly surprised. When my pieces came up for workshopping (For those non-writers out there, workshopping is when you have shared something you wrote with others and they give you feedback on how to improve it. Others call it a bloodfest or a form of masochism.) In both workshops the leaders had high praise for my prose. Some suggestions for tweaking. Joan even suggested I can send the piece we workshopped in her group as a standalone short story (It's part of a novel). I was thrilled. I was surprised. I have a lot of work to do.

Why do I say the last bit? Because I know what state the rest of the manuscript is in. It's not bad. It's not bad at all. But there are sections that need the hefty revision hand. Luckily, I know what I need to do. I just need to sit down and do it.

I am also thrilled to be given the opportunity to work with Jackie Mitchard for the next six months as my mentor. She is truly a fantastic lady and if you haven't heard of her then I think you live under a rock (I know I do sometimes. I like the coolness. The dampness, not so much.) Her book, The Deep End of the Ocean was the very first Oprah Book Club pick. She's authored 19 books in total and all have been a best seller in some shape or form.

Me and my fellow mentees had a teleconference with Jackie before we left the island and we all had smiles on our faces. My very first assignment is to write a five to ten page synopsis for my manuscript Lost Things. I've written two books, other than Lost Things, neither have been published, and I have to say that writing the synopsis is incredibly hard. When I told Jackie that I wasn't sure how fabulous the synopsis would be, she kindly told me that she still has problems with writing a synposis. She's drafted synopsis for three books she's working on now and it took her three months to get them in a form she could be proud of. I swear, I love her more each minute.

One more bit I need to mention. Every single workshop leader, each and every one, said that we had to attend the AWP. HAD TO ATTEND. It's in February in Washington, DC so I'll see if I can go for a day or two.

And with this book report on my winter vacation - a chilly car, thrilling workshops, and an abundance of work, I leave you for a manicure, pedicure, and massage to be quickly followed up with grocery shopping, a critique group, working out, and then hiding from the snow filled day in my cozy apartment in Philadelphia, eager to complete the synopsis and send it onto kind readers.

Pennwriters Philadelphia Critique Group Meets this Saturday

2011-01-06T19:28:00.002-05:00

Begin the new year by taking a step toward completing a resolution ... to write.

Don't miss the Pennwriters Philadelphia Critique Group which meets Saturday, January 8 at 3:00 PM in 525 S. 4th. St., Studio 240A, Philadelphia, PA. The building is on 4th St. between South St. and Lombard.

Take the elevator to the second floor. Turn right and then take your immediate left. The studio is on the left. On the door it is noted, "Running Wild" and "Luna Theater".

If you are a Pennwriter, then the critique group is free. If you are not a Pennwriter, then you are welcomed to join us for up to three times and then we ask that you join.

If you have any questions about the critique group, feel free to email me at lisadkastner@gmail.com.

Wonders of Life

2010-12-25T08:10:00.006-05:00

I rarely, if ever, talk about my day job on this blog. On today of all days, I want to share a bit of wonder I have experienced.

For those who don't know, I work for big-bad-Pharma. I am a colleague at one of the world's largest pharmaceutical companies. I work in the Business Technology realm. In my role, I boss people around and try to find ways for us to work more effectively.

I grew up in a household in which my parents marched against the White House and protested all things "bad" including bloated corporations. Freedom of the people, freedom for the people, and decisions by the people, were my parents mantra.

When I first entered corporate America, I was truly conflicted. How could I work for companies that seemed to represent all that was bad and mean and wrong in the world today? How could I be a part of "the problem" instead of the solution.

And then I consulted at a pharmaceutical company (one in which I later became an employee) and that's when I had a few epiphanies. This company had programs to give medicines to struggling countries to help ensure that babies lived through their early years, thereby decreasing infant mortality rates. I worked for a company where a growing segment of the company was focused on nutritional products for infants: on creating formulas so babies grew up stronger and healthier. I worked for a company that sent relief to countries in dire need. I had co-workers who shared stories of why they worked for a pharmaceutical - friends, relatives, loved-ones, themselves, with illnesses that were treated and successfully cured by a drug that had been developed by a research drug company, like the one we worked for. Or friends, loved-ones, themselves with an illness that they hoped and prayed someone would find a cure, and they wanted to be a part of that cure, even if it was in the smallest way. I worked for a company where the vice president of research and development admitted in a very public forum that his mother was a paranoid schizophrenic and that one of his drivers was to try to find a cure to schizophrenia.

These are the reasons I work for a pharmaceutical. To work with people who hold so much hope and passion and desire for a better world, to find that right combination that could cure the ills of the world, make others lives better, happier. To help give hope to those in need, even if I'm not the one in the lab or with a medical degree. Even if I'm not the one who finds the simple cure to horrific killer.

On this day of days, I share this hope, this dream, this desire ... to find the cures so we can all have a merry Christmas and experience joyous days in our lifetimes.

To have the nekked lady or not to have the nekked lady, that is the question

2010-12-12T09:32:00.006-05:00

I had developed the original logo for Running Wild Writers (which means I drew it), with the thought that the woman running free represented that moment when a writer, or any creative type, feels completely free. The creativity is flowing and they are energized in the world they are developing on the page. The red pens are a little snarky nod to the editing and revising that is needed once that initial freewriting is done.

I received feedback from a few folks that they thought the logo could send the wrong message: that Running Wild is a feminist organization.

So, I took the logo down, but now the site and everything about Running Wild feels naked, bare, vanilla. It's missing the force that brings something together and makes it cohesive.

What do you think? Should I ditch the logo forever? Should I return it to its former place.

If I ditch the nekked lady, then I'd love thoughts on a new logo.

Let the posting begin!

Writing and other such nonsense

2010-12-12T09:17:00.003-05:00

Thursday was the last class for How to Be Your Own Fiction Editor at Running Wild Writers. At the students request, the last day was leveraged to review each others pieces that we had spent the subsequent 10 weeks editing. Their progress was incredible. I knew from following the same process myself (which is why I created the class, to give others the chance to learn the same tools) the advantages that existed in following these exercises, so I was thrilled to see that others gained great strides using the same techniques.

In a similar vein, I completed my first term at Fairfield University. I didn't know what to expect. Although I've been an active writer for almost 10 years now, I've been a Features Editor, a journalist, and I've had short stories published, I wanted a more formalized method to creative writing and I wanted to learn from others who had already accomplished what I had hoped to do in my own writing, hence pursuing an MFA.

My mentor was Karen Osborn who was fantastic. She knew exactly how to express suggested changes to my manuscript in a way that was not only palatable but executable. I look back on the pages I've composed in the last six months and am thrilled at how strong the chapters are. I feel like I now have a clear path to completing this massive revision of the draft manuscript.

I move forward with these changes with both excitement and a bit of a weight. I have a lot of work to do and I eagerly anticipate the results when I'm finished.

Onward and upward (or spiraling up ... one of 'em).

Who said that the circus was for sorority girls?

2010-10-22T22:42:00.003-04:00

This evening I took my first circus arts class. I dressed in the appropriate pink and white striped pants with an oversized grey shirt and a pink tighter shirt underneath to hide "stuff" as I flipped upside down.

I sat in the waiting area and watched the instructors rehearse prior to the class beginning and I thought, "What crack did I inhale? Oh right, I thought this would be a good idea." Behind me entered my fellow students all in their early twenties, buff, and in packs. I thought this was odd. Why are they in packs?

In the midst of one of our instructions one of my fellow students informed me, "We're from the same sorority." (giggle giggle)

WHAT! I thought circuses were for those on the fringe. Those not accepted by society. Those who didn't quite fit in but had this entire traveling community of others who came from the same sphere. And sorority girls lived in clicks and dated jocks and were the ones everyone was supposed to be envious of? What the frig were they doing here? Didn't they realize they were learning how to flip upside down with only the assistance of a rather thick rope from someone who lives on the fringe, on the outskirts of what's considered acceptable society? And they giggled while they did it (the sorority girls).

When did the world flip around? When did sorority girls begin following the fringes of society? Where was I?

NO, You Didn't

2010-10-15T21:42:00.003-04:00

This evening I had the pleasure of taking dinner at a local pub. It's one I frequent because I know their house sauvignon blanc is to my liking.

As I devoured, Water for Elephants, by Sara Gruen, I had the opportunity to overhear a table of aspiring teachers behind me.

"The real problem with the inner city is that they burn out the teachers. A newbie lasts only a term and then leaves. How do they expect these kids to learn if they don't read at home."

I paused, the wine positioned before my lips.

"I mean really, the parents barely know how to read, how do we expect the kids to read in school."

It took all of my willpower not to interrupt their conversation.

I was an inner city youth. I read. A lot. And still do, as is evidenced by my choice of reading over watching football on the pub's big screen television. And I can tell you right now, I wasn't discouraged by my parents lack of reading ability. My mother, at one time, was an English Lit teacher, and my father had been a journalist and radio personality. So, we read ... A LOT.

I gulped down some of the wine and continued to listen to the griping that truly epitomized every cliche I had heard about children in the inner city.

Do you want to know the truth?

Many of my class mates actively read. We were the geeks. We represented the top 1% to 2% of the population based on annual testing scores. And when I say this, I mean we were in middle school and scored higher than 98% of the public school population, including the high school students, including soon to be graduating seniors.

What made us different? Why were we not as good as those students in the suburbs or in private schools? Why is there a perception that kids from the inner city are less educated or less intelligent than students from affluent areas?

I had a teacher who told us that we would never have a job other than one in McDonalds or as someone's secretary.

I was told that the reason I had to take typing class was because I had to have some skills.

I was among the top 2% of the students in the country.

In. The. Country.

And this is what our teachers were telling us as we toiled on advanced math, English and sciences. Students were pushed toward numerous books assigned for summer reading along with essays. Meanwhile, we were told we could only aspire to be secretaries and servers at a fast food restaurant.

And yet, we have newly graduated college students teaching in inner city schools blaming the low self esteem and loss of will on the parents.

Let's think about this, shall we?

Be happy that I kept my composure and elected to sink my head into a book rather than interject on the ignorance that was occurring at the table behind me.

Latest at Running Wild

2010-09-25T14:50:00.004-04:00

I created the Be Your Own Best Fiction Editor after I had received tons of responses from up and coming writers who told me that the hardest part of writing was finding a method for editing. This sent me on a journey to research various methods for self editing and they all came down to the same thing - learning how to have emotional separation from your work. This class will give writers the tools and methods to find and use that emotional separation to their advantage.

Lisa Diane Kastner will instruct Be Your Own Best Fiction Editor at Running Wild Writers, LLC on Thursdays starting September 30 and running through December 2. Each class will be held beginning at 7:00 PM. Running Wild is located at 525 S. 4th. St., Philadelphia, PA, Running Wild is snuggled between the infamous South Street with shops like Zipperhead and the elite Society Hill.

Be Your Own Best Fiction Editor with Lisa Diane Kastner
Lisa Kastner will pull from her own writing experience as well as proven prescriptions of industry greats such as Noah Lukeman, Sol Stein, Tim Esaias, and Nancy Zafris to assist writers in editing their works. Each week, Lisa will guide the class in an element of the revision process. Attendees will bring draft manuscripts for hands on work. Through dialogue and exercises, attendees will strengthen key elements of craft that well-known agents and editors look for when reviewing submissions.

Prerequisite:
A completed draft manuscript. Suggestion: the manuscript is at least 30 pages long.

Note:
This course will require significant work. If you are serious about revising your manuscript then I highly encourage you to sign up. This is an instance of “you get out of it as much as you put into it”.

This ten week workshop will cost $410.00. Registration is available at http://www.runningwildwriters.org/. Members of Pennwriters receive a discounted rate.

View Running Wild’s full calendar at http://www.runningwildwriters.org/.

About Lisa Diane Kastner
Lisa Diane Kastner, fiction writer, creative non-fiction explorer, and former journalist writes fiction from Philadelphia and draws inspiration from her experiences. Kastner promises that her flaming redheaded tendencies will neither detract nor overly add to the commentary. If anything, it will bring a bit of flavor, like cinnamon.

A former correspondent for the Philadelphia Theatre Review and Features Editor for the Picolata Review, Kastner currently writes freelance and by invitation in literature and the arts. Her short stories have been appeared in magazines and journals. In 2007 Lisa was featured among up-and-coming Philadelphia writers in Fresh Lines @ Fresh Nine, a public reading hosted by Gross McCleaf Art Gallery.

She is an alumna of The Bread Loaf Writers Conference, Squaw Valley Writers Workshop, Kenyon Writers Workshop, University of Pennsylvania's Conference for Writers, Chautauqua Institute, and the Rittenhouse Writers Group (RWG). She is the Founder of Running Wild Writers Community, LLC and the former President of Pennwriters, Inc. (http://www.pennwriters.com/) , a 501(c)(3) organization dedicated to assisting the novice to the award winning and multipublished writers to learn and succeed in the craft. She is the founder of the Pennwriters King of Prussia and Philadelphia Critique Groups, and can be found throughout the region leading workshops on business communications, and occasionally performing on the local stage or such theater companies as CelebrationTheater.

Running Wild Writers Community
Running Wild Writers Community is a not-for-profit created to assist up and coming writers to learn and excel in the craft of writing. Running Wild welcomes writers from all forms and all genres. Located at 525 S. 4th. St., Philadelphia, PA, Running Wild is snuggled between the infamous South Street with shops like legendary Zipperhead and the elite Society Hill. For more information go to http://www.runningwildwriters.org/ or contact Lisa Diane Kastner at 610-235-9626 or via email at lisa@runningwildwriters.org.

Ode to James B.

2010-09-20T20:49:00.004-04:00

The first time I met James Buescher was also the first time I went to a Pennwriters Conference. We somehow gravitated to one another. We attended the same workshops. I'm sure, in typical James fashion, he approached me (since I'm a bit of an introvert) and began conversing. I remember us huddling in a corner, sharing our entries for the Pennwriters contest and the wonder in his eyes as he read mine. I thought he was joking, especially after I had read his entry. Who was he kidding? He had no competition; the man was brilliant.

I remember when he won both the non-fiction and the fiction awards and literally knocked me out of my chair as he ran to the podium to make his acceptance speeches. I remember how we partied afterward.

He came, religiously, to the Pennwriters Springfield Critique Group. He drove every month the hour to an hour and a half just to get feedback on his writing. We would find a restaurant (Indian or Thai or some other unique to the Lancaster area restaurant) and rehash the critique group and what we wanted to do with our writing and our aspirations and our dreams and our hopes. Although, at the time, most of it felt like dreams.

He continued to win awards in journalism. We continued to hang out. At fairs, at shows, at the movies, at restaurants, at home, at conferences. He would call me with the hopes that this one ... this wonderful man was THE ONE ... and I hoped he was right.

I remember when he found out THE ONE was a little dodgy or a lot dodgy. How we talked on the phone, deconstructing the events that lead up to the realization that THE ONE was really not even close to being The Other One.

I remember when he attended the Philadelphia critique group and we lied out on the grass of Rittenhouse Square and read our prose as others tossed frisbees at their dogs or lounged into one another. I remember when he told me he was diagnosed with depression and it made writing really hard and he wanted to know how he could make the writing come to him like it used to.

I remember not having an answer.

James was a vibrant force that allowed me, and others, to be a part of his life. He passed away, yesterday, Sunday, September 19, 2010. For me it feels too short, too limited. He was supposed to be the brilliant one. The one who became the Pulitzer Prize Winner; the New York Times bestseller; the Booker, Orange, Bakeless, National Book Award winner. He was the chosen one. And now the chosen one is gone and I'm not sure what to do with all of this. I tip my glass (a sauvignon blanc, if you please) to James. To his life. To all that he brought to it and those he touched. Thank you, James, for allowing us to be a part of your brilliant life.

The Value of Acceptance

2010-09-17T12:10:00.003-04:00

For the last few years, I have dated someone, off and on. I am typically the one who breaks up with him and almost approximately a year later, he will return, like a lonesome boomerang, and ask if he can see me again.

And each time I remember why I said this wasn't a good fit. He's in the suburbs and hates (I mean HATES) the city. I prefer city life although I have lived in the 'burbs. He's quite religious, I'm agnostic. He grew up in a Leave It To Beaver household and I did not.

We have fun when we are together but then I get this inevitable phone call from him telling me, "You need to go to church" or "I noticed you gained weight. If you ate less and worked out then you'd get back to where you were" or "Have you moved to the 'burbs yet?" When he was invited to a friend's picnic over a recent holiday, he invited me to go along for "an exotic experience". Why was this exotic? Because his friend is African American.

Mind you, I grew up in Camden, NJ where the population (at that time) was primarily African American and Latino. I possibly represented the smallest population there (redheaded Caucasian). So, to me this wasn't an exotic experience. This was like coming home.

Every time we get together, I'm a little anxious about the questions he will ask me. Something in my subconcious says that he won't like the answers. He won't accept them. He will give me a lecture on how I'm doing it wrong or how I shouldn't do that. Or even worse, he will respond like I'm a leper.

And so, he does.

Recently I decided to tell him about my tattoos. Nothing special, just that I have them. He stuttered and strained on the phone. He asked, "Why did you get them? I've always been curious as to why people want tattoos."

I told him the truth. For some it's fun. For others it's a way to remember or tattoos are symbolic of the person's life. Others watch LA Ink or one of the other trendy shows.

"And why did you get yours? They're small, right?"

I began to describe them. One is a musical note with a rose wrapped around it. Music has always been important to me. Another is a phoenix and represents the challenges and strains I overcame as a child and a teen.

"Like what?"

And that was the question I dreaded. The one that would tell him more than I thought he could handle. I grew up poor. Sometimes we didn't know if we would have a roof over our heads the next month. I grew up in the most dangerous city (according to annual statistics) in the country. And my mother was a paranoid schizophrenic.

He grew quiet so I blurted out how that doesn't mean that I'm a paranoid schizophrenic. It's not contagious. It's not genetic, at least there's no link that's been found and I'm considered a high functioning child of a paranoid schizophrenic. I don't keep this a secret. It's public knowledge. I'm quite accomplished.

"Do you consider yourself to have multiple personalities?"

Yes, that's what he asked. And more questions like that. And this is when I realized how precious acceptance is. And why I love my friends and my family. And why they are who they are. And how invaluable it is to know that I can pick up the phone immediately after talking to someone as socially awkward and uneducated and sheltered as he is and say, "Hey, I'm going to give you a good laugh. Let me tell you about ... "

Writing Cage Match - Lit Versus Genre - Ding, Ding Ding!

2010-09-04T18:21:00.004-04:00

I've always balanced a highwire. I've never been good at picking one thing. I like variety. I like learning. I like learning from a variety of sources. Growing up I devoured all of the books on my reading lists and even asked for more.

When I wasn't reading for school, I read for pleasure. I read mysteries, and thrillers, and horror, and fantasy, and some Sci Fi. I went through a romance phase when I was a teenager, eager to read about the stuff I only hoped I would experience (although I didn't have a bodice to rip). One of my favorite jobs when I was in my twenties was working at the Relay Services for the Hard of Hearing and Deaf because during my downtime I could read. I read magazines and journals and short stories and comic books. You name it, I probably read it. And I loved it all.

I wrote in my journals and wrote my own stories, my own poetry, my own songs. I even wrote a comic strip. I drew and wrote the storylines for it. Be thankful I cannot find them.

When I went to college I got out of the habit of writing and reading for pleasure. I was too busy working a half to full time job and focusing on school to do much else but when I completed graduate school, the first thing I did was sit down to write. I felt free. I felt whole. I felt like I had rediscovered a part of me that made me happy, content, complete.

Only when I ventured into the writerly world did I discover that there were camps of writers. It never occurred to me that there would be a bias for or against another genre or another form. As far as I was concerned, they all rocked. I could safely read a thriller from my couch and blush as I read a romance on the airplane. I could delve into the world of Huck Finn while on the train and get lost in the words and imagery. And yet, when I started writing fiction again, I found that there was a need to define everything.

"You're a literary writer." I was told. I didn't know what that meant at the time, but I was okay with it.

Later, a rather well known agent told me to ditch literary writing and take up Chick Lit. "Look at you. You should be writing Chick Lit."

I didn't know I had a choice. I write what comes to me in images, in ideas, in thoughts. I write the things that pop into my head and I need to put on paper. I play with words. I play with sentences. I play with ideas. I play with structure. I put characters in trouble and help them get out of it (or throw some more trouble in their paths).

And yet when I get together with my genre writerly friends, someone always has something negative to say about literary writers. "They don't know story. There's no point to it. Who cares if the writing's good, if there's no story then the whole thing sucks."

When I get together with my literary friends, someone always has something bad to say about genre. "It's all formula. Anyone can write it. Who cares if there's story if the writing's crap."

You get the idea.

I sit there and squirm in both instances. I think they are both right and they are both wrong. I want to read a well written story. One that takes me on a ride, brings me into a dream, and leads me to far off places. I want it to be written in such a way that the images float from the page and take over the room, the sounds of my world, the feelings, the senses, so I don't remember where I am physically but mentally, I'm there. I'm in the story. I am Huck Finn. I am Joe Black. I am Lestat. I am Scarlett O'Hara. I am Pi Patel.

I want to learn from all genres, all forms. I want to write a brilliant story that is well written, that takes me on a fantastic journey. I only wish that those who choose not to read other genres or other forms would find the beauty in those that they snub. There's so much to learn. So much to read. So much to do. And so little time.

Best Friends

2010-09-03T21:33:00.004-04:00

I had run, full speed without thought, without anything but the desire to survive and the fear that the sickness would break through my mother and somehow reach me.

I raced to my best friend's home and banged on the door. Her mother answered and let me in. I begged to call my dad.

"Whatcho doing here?" my best friend's mom had asked. "Ain't you supposed to be home?"

Of course I said, "It's fine. I jus' need to tell my dad somethin'."

I called my father and cradled the phone in my hands like it was a precious object, my father's radio voice came through the speaker. "Do you need anything?"

I paused, unsure of what to say. Should I say, mom chased me down the street with a shard of plate in her hand or the house, it's not right anymore? Everything inside is now outside.

I don't remember what I said. I just remember him telling me to hand the phone to my best friend's mom and that they had talked for a bit. She handed the phone back to me. I was to spend the night and then go to school. My best friend sat at the top of the stairs. She watched through the slates.

"It'll be fine when you get home," my dad had said.

I don't remember the next day or even the one after that. It's like a vacuum came in and cleaned out all of the unpleasantness.

I remember my best friend's mom calling me at home. After my mom had been diagnosed. After she had been institutionalized. After I had cleaned the house from top to bottom, as if it would make all of the pain go away.

My best friend's mom and I had met between the middle school and the high school. "Now I know how close you are to my daughter," she had said. I walked along the very edge of the wall and she walked below me on the sidewalk. "I'm jus' concerned about what's going to happen with ... I need to make sure my daughter's okay. I can't expose her to none of this ..."

I knew what she meant. Even as I felt my heart fall onto the cement path that we walked and as we trampled it, I knew what she wanted to tell me. "It's okay," I said. "I'll be fine. I understand."

I went home and hid in my room. Her mother had said I was to never see my best friend again. Ever. I understood why. What if I went insane? Like mother, like daughter. (At the time I didn't know that paranoid schizophrenia didn't run from parent to child but had a stronger link from aunt to niece.) I had heard the possible hereditary link from mother to daughter so many times that it had become a chant inside my childish head. What if my mom went crazy in front of my best friend? What if I went insane? What if my best friend was chased down the street? What if my best friend couldn't outrun my mother?

I was sick the next day, and even the next. And then the phone rang. I let it ring through once and then I picked up the second time.

"Hey," my best friend said. "It's me."
"You're not supposed to be callin'. You could get in trouble," I said.
"I don't care," she said. "Meet me after school."

We met and talked. We agreed to send notes between classes.

"I don't care what my mom says," she told me. "You're my best friend."

A Cricket's Song

2010-08-22T09:43:00.005-04:00

I spent this weekend with wonderful friends in Cape Henlopen near Lewes, Delaware. A relaxing camping ground right off of the shore and within biking distance of scenic beach towns. My friend invited me to spend the weekend with her and her family - her husband, her daughter and her daughter's two children.

Ever since I was a child, I have received similar invitations, always eager to try a new experience and to spend time with friends. Always marveled at my friends and their family's generosity.

I found myself observing the mother - daughter interactions. The silent communications that occurred between them. The grandmother coming up behind the daughter and handing her the disappearing utensil that had evaded her. The daughter's smile, a sign of relief that someone was there, next to her, in her time of need. The mother coming in and relieving the grandmother after hours of time with an unhappy child, only wanting something that she couldn't quite verbalize. The grandmother returning the gesture when both children were a little too overstimulated after a day of fishing and biking and beach combing and wave surfing. Their togetherness at the lit campfire as the children eagerly skewered marshmallows onto metal poles and heated them within the flames. The beautiful sound of waves in the background, the cricket's song.

And this made me wonder about my own mother and how we may have interacted. I haven't seen my mother in 18 years. This is by design. You see, my mother was diagnosed as a paranoid schizophrenic after throwing furniture out of windows, smashing 100 year old mirror insets, performing other methods of demolition and destruction and then chasing me down the street. She was found later that day, in a comatose state on her bed. The medics took her away for a few weeks.

The subsequent years were filled with similar instances at varying levels of complexity and pain. Sometimes she would disappear for a day or a week or a month or even a year. Sometimes to a hospital and other times she wandered off on one of her adventures, rejecting all that was at home, until she found herself broke, homeless, and a little more broken than she was before.

The self-proclaimed home renovation was the first time she had been hospitalized although she probably could have been institutionalized years before, but my father was very protective of her and thought that he could "handle it".

I never realized how different my upbringing was until friends shared heartwarming tales of mother-daughter outings and girls weekends and the like. I was enwrapped in their stories imagining these near-mythical events as if they were reciting a children's rhyme.

As I grew older, I began to entrust my own stories, not nearly as flowery and cuddly, with dear friends. Their responses of shock or horror or "that can't be true" made me at first doubt my own memory so I would go back and verify what I remembered with receipts from the hospitals, confirming her psychiatric hospitalization or I'd ask friends or family members if they remembered the same situation. I slowly realized that maybe my life hasn't quite been the standard American experience (if there is such a thing).

Now I am an adult and I find great joy in seeing these familial interactions. To me the tender love shown between a mother and a child, is unmistakable. Maybe I find it fascinating because my experiences were so different. Either way, I find as much pleasure in spending time with my friends as seeing their hearts sing as they share their time with family.

The Body Versus Mind and Will

2010-08-08T09:13:00.006-04:00

I made a promise to myself that I would workout every day. The promise began in March and was halted in April, when my body decided that I was working out a little too aggressively and informed me of the error by making walking difficult.

What my body didn't understand is that my mind and my will are rather great and tend to move forward even when my body is questioning my judgment. I renewed my promise to myself in June and, except for a few days of illness) have kept this promise. This time my mind and will listened to my body's warnings and I've been wearing a knee brace during vigorous workouts and stretching afterwards, as well as icing my knee. With this formula, I was able to bike for an hour to an hour and a half each morning during the MFA residency and this weekend I'm dabbling in running. Friday, Saturday, and Sunday (today) I have injected my brisk walking routine with alternate moments of running. So far my body has sent warnings of aching hips and sore muscles, but nothing I would consider to be a show stopper. Maybe in the next month I'll be back to running 4 to 5 miles.

The worst part about all of this rehabilitation has been the feeling of lethargy as if time and space have slowed down and my body has become a pile of blah. Yes, I said it, "blah". Maybe if my body, mind, and will can get back into sync, I can change this pile of blah back into an energized machine ready for the next challenge.

I remember when my father would complain that his body didn't do what he wanted it to do. Now I know what he meant.

In the Pursuit of Knowledge

2010-07-31T08:24:00.003-04:00

The last few years have been hectic to say the least, in both my personal and professional lives. During this churning, I decided that I wanted to expand my knowledge of writing in an academic environment. I spent a year and a half preparing submission materials to universities hoping that they would accept my meager offerings so I could join others of similar ilk in the pursuit of an MFA (Masters in Fine Arts). I applied to seven programs and was thrilled to have been accepted by four of them. At first I was unsure as to which one I should attend and then I visited the Fairfield University's residency in December of 2009 and my decision was nearly made.

I attended my first residency as a student from July 16 through July 26 and was welcomed into the Fairfield University MFA (FU MFA) family in a way that I had not anticipated. This eclectic and talented group of writers welcomed me and all of the other newbies with open arms as if we had only stepped out for a moment, to quickly return to the fold. I enjoyed great banter, fantastic discussions on writing and life, attended wonderful seminars, previewed up-and-coming talent in workshops, listened to well-known and established authors as they shared their fresh prose and expounded on their experiences in the writing life, ate fantastic foods, biked my little heart out, and much more. From 5 Am until 10 PM (or later) I was up and running, either with my classmates or spending a few moments alone in the idyllic Enders Island setting.

The upcoming five months promise tons of work. I've just completed reading my first book and will write the associated craft essay on it. I have only 9 more books to read and 100 pages of my own prose to complete. This sounds like a daunting task but when I'm doing something that I truly enjoy, I find the energy for the challenge.

Some have asked me why I'm getting my MFA. "Look at your resume." "You already run a workshop, what more do you want?" I'll admit, if you asked me five years ago if I wanted an MFA, I would have vehemently said no. And then the more I thought about it and the more I delved into my writing, the more I realized how little I knew and how much value I would gain from earning my MFA. So, here I sit before my laptop with a pile of books to read and a draft that needs significant revising, eager to begin this new adventure.

First Anniversary of Running Wild Writers

2010-07-11T17:48:00.003-04:00

A year ago (actually a year and a month ago) I was presented with a challenge - to build a community of writers without bias toward genre or form. To create within the Philadelphia area and eventually beyond, a community of writers that is encouraging and supportive. One that assists aspiring and established writers to grow and thrive in the craft.

I took that challenge and created Running Wild Writers Community, an LLC. Running Wild's mission is to provide venues for up and coming writers to learn and excel in the craft of writing. We welcome writers from all forms, all genres. We have offered lessons that are craft specific, genre-based, and classes to assist writers in their online marketing activities.

The first year was an interesting one. We've had our successes and our lessons. And now I'm looking ahead to the rest of 2010 and 2011. With this, I want to ask you, the aspiring and established writer, what can Running Wild Writers provide that will help you? Some thoughts for 2011 is to offer more classes on weeknights and to partner with a local restaurant, theater, or pub for open mike nights. I would love to hear your thoughts on how we can expand our offerings.

The Reasons I Drive Mini Cooper

2010-06-27T20:48:00.004-04:00

1. I like to play Mario Andretti. In my garage. On the street. On my way to various events. The only downside is that I'm not as talented at driving as Mr. Mario and therefore my car's paint job displays the pains of my past discresions.
2. Better to drive a car you love when you're going to far reaching places. For instance, this weekend I drove to the Greater Lehigh Valley Writers Group and had a fantastic time with the members. We chatted, we played writerly games, and we laughed. What better time could have been had? Then I drove to a fantastic pre-MFA residency celebration in Shelton, Connecticut with some of my fellow students. The potentially grueling four and half hour drive was significantly more palatable since I was snug in my little power o' fun.
3. My car can fit in obscenely small spots. Like the only remaining parking spot at my hotel which was already partially taken by someone with even worse parking skills than my own.
4. It's fun to wave at people through the moonroof.
5. Somehow all music sounds cooler when it's coming from my little bullet o' fun with the windows rolled down and the moonroof open.
6. Even SAAB drivers look jealous.
7. I not only am driving a safe and fuel economical car, it sounds neato.
8. I look cute, cool, and cutting edge all at the same time. Who knew?
9. I look like I can drive a stick shift and yet, I cannot.
10. It's a heck of a lot better than the Ford Escort Pony that I had to share with my dad when I got my driver's license so many (cough) years ago.

Writerly Pursuits

2010-06-20T16:30:00.004-04:00

Today I finished a third round of revisions of the latest manuscript, LOST THINGS. It's a story about Ananda Charmicheal.

What Ananda remembers most about the day her mother disappeared was that her shoelaces wouldn’t stay tied.

So begins my literary novel Lost Things; in 1982 thirteen year old Ananda tries to solve a mystery that has haunted her since she was eight – the disappearance of her mother. Moved from the only home she has known, forced to make new friends and accept the possibility of a new mother, she rebels. She begins a journey to her past that takes her places she doesn’t want to go, makes her recall memories she doesn’t want to remember, but eventually takes her where she wants to be – home. (Huge thanks to Donna Fletcher for the incredible assistance in writing this synopsis.)

Admittedly, for me a third revision is more like a thirtieth revision. I revise while I write and then I go back and revise the pages I just wrote. Then I perform a round of revisions focused on specific elements of craft and then I perform another round of line edits. I just finished the round of line edits and boy am I ready for a break. Time to pick up one of the many books I've been in the midst of reading. The latest is BRINGING THE DEVIL TO HIS KNEES which is a book on craft. I'm also reading Flannery O'Connor short stories and SONS AND OTHER FLAMMABLE OBJECTS by Porochista Khakpour.

I will have the privilege of meeting Ms. Khakpour and introducing her at a reading during my residency this July at Fairfield University. So far I have found her writing to be rich and both sad and humorous. At times I wasn't sure if I should be aghast or laugh (and felt a little guilty laughing).

I've been approached to teach craft classes in 2011. I'm a little on the fence about it because I need to balance my time more effectively. I don't enjoy feeling overwhelmed but I tend to accept all or most offers which means I juggle dozens of opportunities at one time. All had value and all gave me rich experiences but I believe it's time I have more focus to my endeavors.

I was also contacted to audition for a new reality television show about turning around not-for-profits. The host (potentially moi) would help a not-for-profit that is struggling and assist in developing an action plan and turn the organization around. I must admit, I'm very interested in this one. It sounds like a fantastic role and it's the kind of project I love -- helping organizations that help others.

Now, it's time for me to take a mental break and pick up a book or two. I wonder if I have any Charlaine Harris lying around.

Confessions of an Online Dater

2010-06-06T10:08:00.004-04:00

I must confess. I'm single. I date. I date online. I date in person. And yes, I date online. Did I say I date online? I wasn't sure if you read it the first or second time.

I find online dating interesting. I'm thirty-eight and more people in their thirties and above are embarrassed to admit that they find dates online. Meanwhile, it seems to be the norm for folks in their twenties. FaceBook, MySpace, dating sites, bring them on! All are great venues to find a new boyfriend, girlfriend, whatever-kind-of-friend. It's convenient and considering many of us have rather busy lifestyles, it's an easy way to meet new people.

I want to note something here, I said more people are embarrassed to admit that they date online. I didn't say more "singles".

This morning, I made my typical trek to Trader Joe's. While at check out, a very pretty woman with long curly dark hair was unloading her groceries. When she was almost done, a tall attractive man barreled over with a few more items. "Sorry, we forgot these," he said with his hands full of rolls and cheese.

He looked familiar. We briefly made eye contact and then he couldn't look at me again.

Yup, you guessed it. He's on, at least one, if not multiple, dating sites. And guess who he was grocery shopping with? I don't think she was his mom or his sister.

This isn't the first time I've had this happen. Sadly. He's one of many who don't seem to be content with their current relationships and delve into online dating as a way to ... actually, I don't know why they do it. Mystery? Discontent? Thrill? Adrenaline rush?

I'm sure there are just as many women in relationships who do the same. I find it sad. If you don't want to be in a relationship, then leave it. If you want to work things out then do it. Don't put yourself, your partner, and some other person in an uncomfortable situation at the checkout line because you just didn't quite feel the same spark you used to with your girlfriend.

Another favorite, men who are "separated" from their spouses but insist that they only talk to single women. "No one separated or married need apply." Seriously?

A third favorite, men in their forties who only want to talk to women in their twenties. Yeah. It's like that.

The Joys of Writing

2010-05-23T21:28:00.004-04:00

Last weekend I handed the reigns of Pennwriters to Carol Silvis who will be a fantastic president. I loved my time as president. I learned a ton and I was given lots of opportunities to make positive changes that will benefit the membership. Among them was changing our conference model so we have well-known authors as our Friday evening keynote speaker; initiating intensive workshops prior to the conference for those who are more advanced writers; and empowering the board and chairs to initiate new services as well, such as the online courses. Lots done. Lots of great work. And now I can focus on the one reason I joined Pennwriters in the first place, my own love of writing.

Over the last two years, in my "spare" time, I have worked on a manuscript about Ananda, a young girl, whose mother disappears. Her father moves her way from the small town in an attempt to leave behind the memory of his lost wife and hopefully to start a new life. For Ananda's 13th birthday her father says he will grant her whatever she wishes. She never forgot her mother and in actuality spent many nights dreaming and concocting ways to unravel the mystery of her mom's disappearance. In a rage, her father denies her request and demands that Ananda never mention her mother again. This initiates Ananda's journey back to the small town in hopes to find out the truth about her mother and her own past. ANANDA is SECRET LIFE OF BEES meets LIFE OF PI.

I have truly loved this week. I have had plenty of time to go through the first draft of ANANDA. The bones are there, it has a few holes in it but so far, I'm pretty happy with the results, especially considering this is a first draft. I'm 80 pages away from finishing my first read through of the draft and then I'll begin the revision process.

Speaking of revision process, at the 2010 Pennwriters Conference I was pleasantly surprised to have around 45 people attend the How to Be Your Own Editor sessions. Unfortunately, I don't think we advertised that they needed to bring something they were working on and one of their favorite novels or short stories because a grand total of two people did so, which meant I had to wing it. Hopefully, those in attendance did gain benefit from the sessions and will gain even greater value from the handouts.

Final Hours of the Pennwriters Conference - Mind Dump

2010-05-16T21:09:00.003-04:00

I just arrived home from the Pennwriters conference. Figured this was the perfect time for a random brain dump from the final hours of the festivities.
1. Dressed as Elphaba from Wicked, I managed to terrify two small children in the hotel's bathroom. I'm not sure who screamed louder, me or them. Needless to say, I convinced them that I wasn't a real witch and that some witches are good, possibly humanitarians. I think they were so convinced they decided they would rather be at the masquerade party than at the family function they were supposed to attend. Luckily, Mommy intervened.
2. Fantastic workshop by Jennifer Jackson on querying. I learned some invaluable tips that made me want to kick myself for how I'd botched things in the past.
3. Luckily, after three days of exhaustion I could sleep in on Sunday. Not that my body let me do so, but at least I had that as an option.
4. Yummy breakfast in Garfields at the hotel and a wonderful conversation with Meredith and Julie, the tag team coordinator duo for the 2011 conference. Look out folks, this is going to be hot!
5. Good times during the final hours with winners of our gift baskets and sad farewells. Looking forward to seeing everyone (and making new friends) at the 2011 conference.
6. Drove home.
7. Arrived home.
8. Looked for work laptop and workout gear.
9. Gasped.
10. Called hotel and confirmed that they were still in my hotel room.
11. Immediately drove the hour and a half to the hotel and picked up items.
12. Drove back home praying I wouldn't fall asleep driving. Thank goodness for the Purple Rain soundtrack. Nothing like a little Darling Nikki to keep you awake.
13. Arrived home, again, and grabbed some take out mexican.
14. Obtained second wind and hoping that it won't last very long, otherwise I may be a bit useless tomorrow.
15. As always, incredibly proud to be part of such a fantastic organization and looking forward to next year's conference.

Pennwriters Conference - Update

2010-05-15T18:24:00.003-04:00

Day two - I spent the day running around to prepare for the conference and pick up some last minute necessities. I had the pleasure of leveraging the costume services of Fulton Theater's Costume Shop for the Pennwriters Saturday evening masquerade party. I hear someone green, with a talent for flying and with a killer singing voice will be hosting. I'm anxious to meet her.

The Friday evening keynote was fantastic. I had the pleasure to introduce James Rollins. Even though his writing credentials are quite impressive, I was most impressed with the man himself. He was so incredibly kind and generous. I really enjoyed the opportunities I had to chat with him. He gave us so much of his time including being raffled off to Thursday Intensive Workshop students, hosting a question and answer session for the Published Penns, and he even participated in a critique session for thriller and horror writers. I am sure everyone at the conference was inspired by his keynote speech as well as all of the wonderful things I have already mentioned.

Friday evening I facilitated a read and critique session with Tim Esaias and Alex Glass. Both were spot-on with their commentary and I'm sure everyone appreciated the constructive criticism. I had a pleasant surprise Friday night when I had the chance to chat with a wonderful friend, USA Today bestselling author, Donna Fletcher. I remember when she earned her first book deal some 20 years ago and her late nights to meet deadlines. We could have chatted until the wee hours of the morning but both realized it was time to rest.

Saturday we had our general meeting in which I handed the reigns to Carol Silvis. I am now, officially the past president, which means I will act as an advisor to the Board of Directors. I have thoroughly enjoyed my time on the board, six years total, but I am looking forward to refocusing my time on writing.

Saturday's keynote was with Elizabeth Kann, author of Pinkalicious and Purplicious. I remember the first time I met Elizabeth, five years ago, and she is just as charming as ever. I believe everyone was captivated by her talk. I doubt anyone realized or noted her fear of public speaking.

Tonight, the masquerade. I'm giving myself a breather from all of the festivities and enjoying dinner in my room.

Will give another update in a bit.
Toodles!

Welcome to the 2010 Pennwriters Conference

2010-05-13T00:03:00.003-04:00

Today I arrived at the Eden Resort in Lancaster, PA for the 2010 Pennwriters Conference and was immediately greeted by seeing two friends, Barbara Lockwood and Tim Esaias, in the lobby. They kindly assisted in unpacking my Mini Cooper of its treasures: materials for the session I will teach on Friday; wine and cheese for a party I'll co-host; general sundries and clothes that I will need for the days ahead. The hotel is fantastic. I'm really looking forward to the next few days.

Next up: Find a costume for the Masquerade Party that I will host on Saturday night. I have a sneaking suspicion this costume will be rather interesting since I'll rent it from the Fulton Theater in Lancaster. Then I need to prepare my materials for the Be Your Own Best Editor sessions I'll teach on Friday as well as the James Rollins keynote introduction.

A Session with JJ

2010-04-24T17:22:00.003-04:00

I was asked to be a guest on A Session With JJ.

It was fun to be on the air again. I'm finding each interview is a little easier which makes me a bit nervous. I'm just waiting for the day I say something absolutely asinine. Who knows, maybe Friday was the day. For those who missed it, here's a link to the interview.

Ron Hogan to Teach at Running Wild

2010-04-22T19:24:00.001-04:00

Ron's an old friend and I'm privileged to have him teaching at Running Wild. This promises to be a great class.

Online Marketing with Ron Hogan

Ron Hogan, director of e-marketing strategy for Houghton Mifflin Harcourt’s trade and reference division will teach Online Marketing at Running Wild Writers, LLC on May 22 starting at 1:00 PM. Running Wild is located at 525 S. 4th. St., Philadelphia, PA, and is snuggled between the infamous South Street with shops like Zipperhead and the elite Society Hill

Online Marketing with Ron Hogan
Saturday, May 22, beginning at 1:00 PM

This workshop is designed to introduce students to the importance of blogs as vehicles of communication and, in some cases, commerce. We'll talk about how writers can use blogs to develop their personal brands and establish an ongoing relationship with readers even before they've published their first work, as well as the opportunities for creative expression. We'll also discuss some of the available technical resources, including their strengths and weaknesses, and touch upon elements of social media technology that can be integrated into a blogging strategy, and about how authors and publishers are using all these tools in today's publishing environment.

About Ron Hogan
Ron Hogan helped create the literary Internet by launching Beatrice.com in 1995. He is the director of e-marketing strategy for Houghton Mifflin Harcourt’s trade and reference division. He has also written about the business side of publishing as a senior editor for GalleyCat. He speaks frequently at book festivals and publishing conferences about how the industry can make the most of social networking tools and other transformative trends.

He is the author of The Stewardess Is Flying the Plane, a visual tribute to ’70s Hollywood, and a contributor to the New York Times bestseller Not Quite What I Was Planning. The free e-book of his “translation” of the Tao Te Ching has been downloaded in various formats by more than 25,000 readers a year for several years running.

This half-day workshop is $54.00 for standard attendees and $49.00 for Pennwriters members.

Registration is available at www.runningwildwriters.org.

View Running Wild’s full calendar at www.runningwildwriters.org. Previously announced workshops include Playwriting Through Improvisation - A Unique, on-the-Feet Workshop for Writers of All Kinds with Kate McGrath which will be held on Saturdays, June 12 - June 26 from 2:00 PM to 5:00 PM .

Running Wild Writers Community
Running Wild Writers Community is a not-for-profit created to assist up and coming writers to learn and excel in the craft of writing. Running Wild welcomes writers from all forms and all genres. Located at 525 S. 4th. St., Philadelphia, PA, Running Wild is snuggled between the infamous South Street with shops like legendary Zipperhead and the elite Society Hill . For more information go to www.runningwildwriters.org or contact Lisa Diane Kastner at 610-235-9626 or via email at lisa@runningwildwriters.org

###

Latest Interview

2010-04-20T20:12:00.002-04:00

I was recently interviewed by Blog Interviewer, an interviewer of the web's best blogs. Not sure how I made the list but tah-dah! Here's the interview:

http://bloginterviewer.com/music/wonderful-world-of-a-facetious-redhead-lisa-diane-kastner

Rare Buck Show - Improv

2010-04-18T08:18:00.003-04:00

Here's shameless self-serving promotion on my part. My (gasp) 20th high school reunion is coming up in May and one of my classmates will be in town and performing at the Shubin Theatre with The Rare Bird Show.

Dave is now based out of Texas so this may truly be one of those unusual opportunities to see this talented old guy (I have a right to call him old, since I too fall into the same age category).

Here's the info:

"Rare Buck Show"
Dave Buckman sits in with
Rare Bird Show (Philly Improv legends)
@ The Shubin Theatre
(407 Bainbridge St, Philly, PA 19147)
at 8pm on Friday, May 7, 2010.

Tickets are $10.

Trying to Navigate the Publishing Waters? Donna Fletcher Can Help

2010-04-17T21:02:00.001-04:00

Donna Fletcher, author of nearly 30 novels will instruct Selling a Book in this Ever-Changing Publishing World at Running Wild Writers, LLC on April 24 beginning at 9:00 AM. Running Wild is located at 525 S. 4th. St., Philadelphia, PA, Running Wild is snuggled between the infamous South Street with shops like Zipperhead and the elite Society Hill.

Selling A Book In The Ever-changing Publishing World Presented by Donna Fletcher
New technologies and the present economy have presented a challenge to many businesses and the publishing world is no different. Being an author of twenty-seven books spanning twenty years Donna has been challenged by many of them and continues to be challenged by new ones. Though it isn’t easy to get published, it isn’t impossible. Armed with a range of knowledge and determination a writer can become a published author. In this full-day workshop Donna will detail the necessary steps and point out the pitfalls and perils on the path to publication.
The workshop will cover such areas as but not be limited to:
1. Publishing challenges
2. Defining your book
3. Defining the markets
4. Beginnings
5. Characters & dialogue
6. Plotting
7. How to find an agent
8. How to submit your work
9. Hardcover vs. trade vs. mass market
10. What’s hot and what’s not
11. E-publishing
12. Marketing
13. Critique groups
14. Writing organizations
15. Armed and ready for publication
* Handouts will be available for all attendees.

About Donna Fletcher
Donna Fletcher is a USA Today bestselling author of twenty-seven historical and paranormal romances. She presently writes for HarperCollins Publishers and has worked for Kensington and Berkley. Her books have sold to Russia, Brazil, Germany and Thailand. She has presented numerous workshops and lectures on all areas of writing at libraries, bookstores and major writing conferences. She has also taught classes on writing at community night schools. She was a community relations coordinator for a Borders Bookstore in NJ handling all aspects of marketing including arranging author signings. She is a past present of New Jersey Romance Writers and as of January 2010 will be President-elect of Novelist Inc. a world-wide organization for published fiction authors.

This full day workshop will cost $89.00 for non-Pennwriters and $80.00 for Pennwriters.

Registration is available at www.runningwildwriters.org.

View Running Wild’s full calendar at www.runningwildwriters.org. Previously announced workshops include Online Marketing with Ron Hogan, Saturday, May 22 starting at 1:00 PM

Running Wild Writers Community
Running Wild Writers Community is a not-for-profit created to assist up and coming writers to learn and excel in the craft of writing. Running Wild welcomes writers from all forms and all genres. Located at 525 S. 4th. St., Philadelphia, PA, Running Wild is snuggled between the infamous South Street with shops like legendary Zipperhead and the elite Society Hill . For more information go to www.runningwildwriters.org or contact Lisa Diane Kastner at 610-235-9626 or via email at lisa@runningwildwriters.org

He Dun Good

2010-04-05T21:13:00.003-04:00

Yes, I realize the word in the center of the title is spelled phonetically. I thought it would grab your attention. Probably made you wince just a bit as well. So be it.

Today, I congratulate Pete Bodi. I've known Pete for going on six years now. He used to attend the Pennwriters Springfield Critique group and is now in the fiction workshop at Running Wild. He found out recently that his very first piece has been published by MystericalE

Pete's a great crime fiction writer and a great writer. I've been honored to read much of his work and privileged to watch him grow through the years.

Good going, Pete! I'm sure we'll see many more bylines with his name on them.

National Geographic Interview

2010-04-04T09:13:00.005-04:00

Last week, the Pennwriters Conference Coordinator, Ayleen Stellhorn, contacted me about being interviewed for a National Geographic travel guide.

I said, "Really? National Geographic wants to interview me for braving the wilds of Philly's finest restaurants? Or for surviving the horrors of a bad glass of wine? Or better yet, for living to tell the tales of commuting via the Schuylkill every week? I thought they only interviewed guys like the host of Wild Kingdom."

Ayleen graciously responded,"No, it's to talk about the Pennwriters Conference as a vacation destination."

"Wow, really? Of course I'll interview. Sounds interesting."

In all honesty, Pennwriters chose the conference locations of Pittsburgh and Lancaster, PA with this same thought in mind. We wanted to be sure that if someone had a family or a significant other tagging along, then s/he could skip out on the workshops or writer-geek-talk and head over to the outlets or Dutch Wonderland, golf, check out a museum, or any number of other vacation type activities. We've had conference attendees from as far away as the UK and Alaska.

When I talked to Larry Bleiberg from National Geographic about the conference, his first comment to me was that we have a reputation for being the best bang for the buck and that we provide a welcoming and encouraging environment for newbie to established writers. Again, I was thrilled that this was noted. Pennwriters goes out of its way to try and price the conference so that it's affordable and has high quality speakers and guests. Compared to conferences that run in the thousands for the same type of workshops, attending a Pennwriters conference is a steal.

Larry was a great interviewer and a real pleasure to talk to. Look for the National Geographic travel guide sometime in 2011 (I think he said August). It'll be interesting to see what other alternative travel destinations are mentioned along side the Pennwriters Conference. Maybe an Elvis wedding in Vegas? Who knows, but whatever it is I'm sure it'll be fun.

Confessions of a Serial Killer

2010-03-25T23:44:00.003-04:00

When I was in my teens and twenties, I didn't believe that anyone could love me. There's a long history behind this but the end result was that I didn't and at the time, I couldn't love myself.

I had created my own reality. When someone showed interest in me and I was interested in him, I would shoot him down in the most lethal way possible. Not with a gun or an arrow, but with words and actions. I killed more men's egos and hearts than I care to admit (or am admitting) to today. The belief that no one could love me was so ingrained, that I made it true by rejecting, not only men, but anyone who cared for me.

To all of those I hurt, I am sorry. I cannot say I didn't mean to do it because at the time I did. I could not love, I could not care, I could not give myself fully to another and in order for you to have what you needed, I needed to be able to do these things. But at the time, I simply could not. And for this, I am sorry.

I hope that through the years you have healed and grown. I know I have or rather I hope I have, so I don't leave a trail of broken hearts or destroyed egos. I hope I have learned that I can and am loved so I will no longer destroy those who present their hearts and souls to me. I hope those who care and love me do not find the same banshee before them but rather an empathetic soul.

Self Improvement - Breaking Through Your Barriers

2010-03-14T13:20:00.003-04:00

A few weeks ago, I had a spare Saturday, one with nothing planned, no travels, no chores. So, I signed up for the Get Life Coaching Breaking Through the Barriers workshop.

Before I continue let me say a few things. I am the last person to watch infomercials (and I admit that the Life Coaching site has a very infomercial feel). I find infomercials cheesy and at best questionable. The entire purpose of an infomercial is to sell you something so of course the floobie is going to sound fantastic or the 99 piece Ginsu knives or the ab buster. Also doesn't help that I've had friends who worked in the production side of infomercials so I may be privy to a little more than most.

This said, I am probably among the first to say I have a lot to learn and I am usually trying to find ways to learn, improve, and grow. Even though the surface of the Get Life Coaching site made me wince, what I heard from the founder made sense to me. Joe White, the founder of Get Life Coaching, provides inspirational materials for free on his FaceBook page and on the Get Life Coaching site. Much of what he talks about in terms of ways to live your life are actually the same methodologies and concepts I have tried to follow.

So I figured, what the heck, why not? At best, I figure out why I've felt stuck in some areas of my life. At worst, I get a trip to Delaware, meet new people, and have learned some type of lesson, just not one I had hoped for.

Like many re-programming seminars, the workshop lasted from 9:30 AM until 11:30 PM. And I don't mean re-programming in a negative way. I mean it in a positive way. Oftentimes we respond on autopilot so one of the most effective ways to get people to respond from their hearts, their souls, their true thoughts and beliefs, is to take them out of their standard environment and put them in a safe environment. Because some people are more resistent to change, you need to have them in that environment for a bit longer and reinforce the positive messages and tools that will enable self-discovery or rather the blissful and sometimes painful ah-ha moment that opens up doors to a richer, fuller, and happier life.

Was Breaking Through the Barriers successful? I would say yes. Would I encourage others to attend the Breaking Through the Barriers seminar? Whole-heartedly. Will I divulge what occurred in those 14 hours? Not on your life. I silently swore to a room of courageous, fantastic, and wonderful people that what happens in that room, in that space, stays there. And so it shall.

Self Improvements And All That Jazz

2010-03-14T12:28:00.003-04:00

Earlier, I had posted about changing my eating lifestyle to be in alignment with raw (at least 80% of what I eat each day is raw). In part to lose weight and also for health reasons. Much more nutrients can be obtained by eating raw fruits and vegetables than by not eating fruits and veggies or by eating cooked ones.

My initial week showed amazing results. I lost almost eight pounds which shocked me. I realized much of it must be water weight but that dramatic of a decrease in weight really caught my attention. I envisioned losing four or more pounds in subsequent weeks. The svelt me purchasing size six clothes in only a few months. I was high.

The second week I gained a half pound. This didn't seem right to me and admittedly, I was about to have my monthly visitor (hint, hint) so I continued forward with my plans, visions of a size four me in a bikini, on the beaches in Greece or Italy or Spain (and by some miracle, in my visions, I had also grown my hair back out to shoulder blade length).

By the fourth week I had gained back the eight pounds. My clothes still fit looser but the scale said something completely different. I have no justification for this. I haven't been eating a half pound of raw nuts every day or the equivalent of an avocado tree. I haven't been snacking on Larabars so that I'm the primary shareholder due to purchases. I honestly cannot figure out why I gained that weight.

Even with this, I am sticking to the lifestyle. Why? Because I haven't felt this awake, alive, and healthy in ages. Actually, I don't ever remember feeling this good. I kicked the caffeine habit (for a few days I had a headache but that passed) and processed foods. I can still eat out. I quite enjoy eating out actually. I am selective about what I'm ingesting but that's nothing new. Just different type of selective at this point in the game.

Do I recommend the lifestyle? I'm going for a physical in a few months so I'll be able to a) verify the health benefits and b) hopefully get an inkling as to why I haven't seen the weight loss I would assume I would have.

Listen to My Interview on At Home Biz

2010-03-10T14:48:00.003-05:00

The interview with At Home Biz is now available at the link above.

Interview on At Home Biz - Today!

2010-03-10T08:39:00.000-05:00

I'm going to be interviewed today on At Home Biz Radio with Jeane. The talk will be about how our circumstances and situations do not define us. If you have a few minutes, listen in. The interview begins at 1:00 PM ET. You can either listen in via the blog at http://www.blogtalkradio.com/jeane or dial in at 646-929-0711.

Circumstances and Situations Do Not Define Us. Obtain Academic, Social and Financial Success

2010-03-08T15:28:00.002-05:00

I have the honor of being interviewed for the At Home Biz Radio blog talk radio show. Below is information about it.

Dr. Anita Davis DeFoe and Lisa Diane Kastner share their experiences in advancing, through determination, will, luck and leadership development.

Dr. Anita Davis DeFoe is a certified career and workforce development consultant, motivational teacher, knowledge facilitator, youth development and family strenthening expert, as well as an organization, quality and leadership development specialist.

Lisa Diane Kastner is the President of Pennwriters, a not for profit organization dedicated to assisting the novice to award-winning and multi-published writer to learn and succeed in the craft.

Come and hear the interview of these two astounding ladies at At Home Biz Radio on Wednesday, March 10, 2010 at 10 am PST/12 noon CST/1 pm EST.

You can also call in and listen at 646-929-0711.

A Facetious Redhead Interviews an Epic Storyman

2010-03-05T06:37:00.004-05:00

Of course I had to take advantage of the fact that Jack Hillman, author of novels, short stories, novellas, will be teaching at Running Wild and interview him for this here blog. Check out the interview below. I hope you enjoy it. I did.

Thank you Jack for joining us today. I can still remember the first time we met and our rather elaborate conversation regarding fantasy writing and various weaponry.

To begin, why do you write?

I write for a lot of reasons. For one thing, I have a lot of stories to tell and they have to go somewhere or else I'll explode. I write to entertain people (as well as myself). I write to teach, with the hope that some of the knowledge I've been given over the years will flow out to people through the stories I'm telling. And I write in the hope that enough people will want to read my stuff, and buy my books, that I can quit my day job and just write full time.

From where do you draw your inspiration?

From so many different sources I couldn't list them all. I get inspiration from other writers, when I read there work and think: "But if you did it THIS way..." I get inspiration from watching the world all around me: how people interact, or don't interact; how they communicate or don't communicate; things people do that prompt an idea; places I go that make me think "What if?"; from the smallest things in the day to the wide range of the world. Writers who say they lack inspiration aren't paying enough attention.

To be "matter of fact" about the world is to blunder into fantasy- and dull fantasy at that, as the real world is strange and wonderful. - Lazarus Long

What is your preferred form of prose?

I like a good short story, but to be honest, I read so fast that it really takes a novel to keep my attention for longer than fifteen minutes. A good space opera or an epic fantasy can help me recover from a day's worth of sitting at a desk and trying to understand insurance. Having said that, however, I've tried my hand at most forms of prose. I've written and published poetry, short fiction, flash fiction, novellas, novels. I've written horror, mystery, science fiction, fantasy, humor, and even (gasp!) romance. A writer who limits themselves to one type of prose is either very busy writing in that field (which is not a bad thing), or else limiting their work when they don't really need to. Cross genre fiction is some of the most popular and a lot of writers find a new niche when they branch out a bit.

Who are your favorite authors and why?

Okay, you asked for it:
-Robert Heinlein: who opened the door to a universe of strange and wonderful people, many of whom had more legs/heads/and often sense, than some of the people I knew
-Andre Norton: who was the first female writer to show to me women write as well as men (it didn't take much convincing- I was already pretty sure they could)
-Keith Laumer: who showed me you can write a funny story with weird aliens and still make them act like your cousin Harry
-Jack Williamson: for introducing the Legion of Space
-E.E. "Doc" Smith: for bringing humans and aliens together for the common purpose of defeating evil- Go Lensmen!
-Mercedes Lackey: for combining some of my Celtic heritage with a setting that was a bit less bloodthirsty- sometimes.
-Anne McCaffrey: for dragons
-Steve Perry: for combining martial arts and science fiction
-Dennis Schmidt: for combining Zen and science fiction (is there a pattern here?)
-David Weber: for reinventing the space opera

I'll stop there instead of repeating my whole library. Let's just say there are a lot more. Every good author teaches you something. And the bad ones teach you what NOT to do.

Tell us about your class at Running Wild. Why an epic quest? How do you envision the class interacting?

Why an epic quest? That's the easy part. If you are telling a dramatic story that includes major changes for the protagonist, there is always some sort of journey. The journey may be metaphorical, but it is no less real than tromping across thousands of miles, or just as many light years. The journey will always require (or possibly force) the protagonist to step (possibly run) outside their comfort zone. And the end result of that journey may not be pleasant for your protagonist. It is quite possible the only way to achieve the goal is for the ultimate sacrifice to occur. Western literature looks at this ending considerably differently than Eastern literature. Just look at the endings to some of the best movies to come out of China or Japan over the years. The good guy/girl, is often dead at the end, and the journey is hailed as a success for their attempt rather than their success.

As for the class, we will look at the journey you are putting your protagonist through, how there will be failures and successes, and how the protagonist will change as a result. What do you want your protagonist to become and how will you get there? As part of this discussion we will look at what your protagonist will need to make the journey. How many companions will be needed? Is the journey meant to be a solo affair? Will the protagonist be required to fight? Or would it be better for the protagonist to evade capture and hide in order to achieve their goal? And the companions- what sort of people will they be? Are they along by their own choice, or do circumstances force their attendance in what may be a final encounter. And then there are always the magic weapons to consider.

Bottom line for the class: be prepared to come and discuss and- most probably- defend what your story is going to be about.

You are a multitalented writer, with experience in journalism, corporate writing, and fiction. Do you think the different types of writing have influenced one another? If so, how?

Absolutely. My work as a journalist helped me learn to find the details in what is going on in the world, as well as how to speak to people and draw them out so you get to the "real reason" they are doing what they are doing. It helped me learn the fine points of doing research and making sure you get your facts straight, always important for your setting and your continuity. And writing on a deadline is a great way to learn to overcome writer's block. A journalist can't have writer's block when the editor wants that story in an hour!

My work as a playwright helped immensely with learning to write dialogue. After all, what is a play but pages of dialogue strung together with a few stage directions. And you have to keep the pace moving or you lose your audience.

My corporate writing experience helped if for nothing else than learning persistence. For those of you who may not have done any of this type of writing, you have NO idea how boring it can be to talk about profit margins and return on investment goals. Anyone who can keep that sort of information dump interesting is a skilled writer.

As for my fiction writing: it's much easier to make a play interesting if you have a good story in your head to start with. It's much easier to make a news story effective if you know how to draw the reader in and keep them moving along with the facts. It's much easier to make a corporate document readable if your grasp of language includes more than the minimal set of words found in an elementary school reader. Language is the brush a writer uses to draw paintings in the reader's head, and keeps them turning pages to see the next painting.

Did you have a mentor and if so, how did that person help guide you?

My mentors for writing were actually the people who helped me as I was growing up. They weren't writers, but they taught me a lot about how I deal with the challenges I faced for many years. These lessons carried over as I started writing. The discipline I learned made writing easier to learn (well, a little bit, anyway) and kept me going when it was very tempting to stop. We all get discouraged as writers from time to time. But that voice from your childhood telling you to "get up off your tuchus and get moving" echoes pretty loud, even after forty years.

But once I became a writer (rather than just playing at it) I found a wide community of people who were willing to share their knowledge. They may not be mentors, the way you usually look at such people, but they are part of that ongoing journey. They are my companions in my own Epic Quest. We're not sure where we're going, but the journey itself is a helluva ride!

Look for Jack's class, Writing the Epic Quest at Running Wild on March 20 starting at 1 PM.

On an Epic Quest and Need Direction? Jack Hillman Has the Answer.

2010-03-01T19:29:00.001-05:00

Jack Hillman, author of THERE ARE GIANTS IN THIS VALLEY and GIANTS WANT THE LOST RIVER will teach Writing the Epic Quest at Running Wild Writers, LLC on March 20 beginning 1:00 PM. Running Wild is located at 525 S. 4th. St., Philadelphia, PA, Running Wild is snuggled between the infamous South Street with shops like Zipperhead and the elite Society Hill

Writing the Epic Quest with Jack Hillman
With so much of the focus in writing today on character based stories, what could be more timely than a discussion of the art form that transforms some mild mannered individual into a something totally outside their nature, and not always to the good? Epic quests are not limited to fantasy and science fiction, but have been part of literature since writing was invented. All genre's have their favorite epic quest: the romance of Gone With The Wind, the tragedy of Moby Dick, the excitement of the chase in Raiders of the Lost Ark, the dark power of The Maltese Falcon. All really good novels have a part of the epic quest in their making. We will discuss the breakdown of the various characters that make up the quest- the fellowship- and how each one may play many, and often conflicting, parts as the story unfolds. We will also discuss how the protagonist (not necessarily a hero) is becoming more prevalent in today's literature and how this affects the tone of the quest.

About Jack Hillman
A lifelong Pennsylvania resident, Jack began a love of books sitting amid the mystery of hospitals and medical paraphernalia. Mythology of all cultures and a fascination with martial philosophies led to King Arthur, the knights of the round table and an array of science fiction and fantasy authors that had a strong impact on his life.
Real life got in the way of a writing career to start, but thirty years in the life and medical insurance field led Jack to a job as a stringer for local newspapers and writing for medical and insurance journals. In addition to years in the insurance field Jack also has fifteen years experience as a journalist and freelance writer, and has won a Keystone Press Award (1998) for his journalistic efforts. Jack has written on a wide variety of subjects and keeps his hand in medical and insurance matters on a daily basis.
With experience as a journalist, short story writer, playwright and novelist, Jack often speaks at writer's conferences, to writer's groups and to school gatherings. If you are looking for a speaker on esoteric subjects, Jack probably has something tucked away in a folder for the occasion.
He lives in eastern Pennsylvania with his supportive wife, a squad of feline editors, and an array of edged weapons to inspire his works.
This half day course will cost $45 for non-Pennwriters and $40.50 for Pennwriters.
Registration is available at www.runningwildwriters.org.

View Running Wild’s full calendar at www.runningwildwriters.org. Previously announced workshops include Poetry - The Value-Added Workshop: Pairing Generative Work with Liz Chang to be offered on Mondays and Wednesdays beginning April 19 through May 12 at 7:00 PM.

Running Wild Writers Community
Running Wild Writers Community is a not-for-profit created to assist up and coming writers to learn and excel in the craft of writing. Running Wild welcomes writers from all forms and all genres. Located at 525 S. 4th. St., Philadelphia, PA, Running Wild is snuggled between the infamous South Street with shops like legendary Zipperhead and the elite Society Hill . For more information go to www.runningwildwriters.org or contact Lisa Diane Kastner at 610-235-9626 or via email at lisa@runningwildwriters.org

###

New Updates to Running Wild Site

2010-02-15T08:28:00.002-05:00

Hi all -

I just updated the Running Wild Writers Community website with improvements to make it easier to navigate. I linked the course descriptions to the Running Wild store, added all of the courses for 2010 in the store; made it easier for Pennwriters members to identify the classes that have the Pennwriters discount and did a little clean up.

Enjoy!
Lisa

Life's Challenges - Part Two

2010-02-13T22:15:00.003-05:00

Previously I posted about my interactions with food and exercise and how I was committing to getting back on track for a healthy lifestyle. I did as I promised, I joined Weight Watchers and after a month I saw little success. I felt like I knew more than the Weight Watchers leaders, which is a terrible feeling (Full disclosure: six years ago, I was featured by Weight Watchers in advertisements and press releases as a success story, so I was definitely hardcore.)

Frustrated, I started talking to a bunch of friends about my most recent experiences. A very good friend had begun the Raw food diet and experienced wonderful results. She had mentioned that it may be a great option for me as well since I tend to eat a lot of fruits and vegetables and in the 80% raw version of the lifestyle, I can also have raw cheese and cooked seafood and free range eggs, vegetables, and fruits. I can also have dark chocolate and wine (woohoo!) The more I investigated this lifestyle the less restrictive it seemed so this week I took the plunge and began eating raw. So far, I can see and feel the results. I've kicked my daily caffeine addiction and lost a bit of weight.

I'm still skeptical since only one week has passed but we shall. Surprisingly, I haven't had cravings for junk, although I haven't really been a junk food eater in years.

The next few weeks/months should be very interesting. I'll keep you posted on my progress.

Interview with Mecca Jamilah Sullivan

2010-02-06T17:22:00.004-05:00

Earlier this week I had the pleasure to interview Mecca Jamilah Sullivan an accomplished writer and instructor at Running Wild Writers. I believe her course will be so fantastic, I am hoping to grab a seat for me.

Thank you Mecca for your willingness to be interviewed. From the first moment I read your bio, I knew you were someone I wanted to talk to.

Thanks, Lisa! I’m so glad we got to connect. I’m very excited about Running Wild! Thanks for having me as an instructor.

To begin, why do you write?

You know, there are several different reasons, and the reasons change over time. I started writing as a child as a way of understanding myself and the world around me. That’s still my main drive, fundamentally, but now I also have a sense of responsibility to readers, and to other people whose stories I am eager to tell. I think writing is about understanding our own experience, but it’s also a way of connecting with people, for me. It’s a way of forging links between people where others may not see them, and giving readers the challenge and pleasure of understanding someone else’s story.

From where do you draw your inspiration?

Oh man, from everywhere. I’ve heard many accomplished writers talk about reading as a primary inspiration, and that’s definitely true for me. But I also find myself drawing from language in other places—vagrant phrases I catch on the bus or train, song lyrics that drift to mind and repeat themselves until they burst with new meaning. But I’m also inspired by images, and overheard stories, and even feelings. The feeling of sun hitting full cheeks on a random afternoon has appeared in a lot of my stories, I’ve noticed. And music… music is a huge inspiration.

What is your preferred form of prose?

I’m always drawn to voice, regardless of what genre I’m reading. I love prose fiction—both stories and novels or novellas. I enjoy creative nonfiction and memoir, too. But the real hook for me is always the voice. It doesn’t matter much whose voice it is, whether it’s first or third or second-person narrative, or how the narrator and characters speak. I just find myself excited to hear a strong, well-crafted, whole and believable voice in fiction. It’s like meeting a new person, falling instantly in love with them, and sitting with them as they talk you through a series of important moments in their life.

Who are your favorite authors and why?

Toni Morrison is it for me. I feel sort of silly trying to sum my respect for her up in a few words. She is one of those authors who does it all shatteringly well. I first read her novel, The Bluest Eye, in the third grade and fell in love first with the narrative voice, then with the story. But then, as with all of her books, I’ve returned to it many times since and been astounded over and over by her deftness with structure and scope and history. I’ve never been much of a gardener, but I want to say reading her is like turning over endless layers of soil and finding new nutrients, new and beautiful seeds. I feel that way about Virginia Woolf and Gabriel Garcia Marquez, too. Then there are folks like Alice Walker, William Faulkner, and Wally Lamb who do it all so well, too, and work absolute wonders bringing their characters’ emotions to life. But there’s a really long list… Samuel Delany, Ntozake Shange, Chimamanda Adichie, Audre Lorde, Jonathan Lethem, Lorene Cary, Randall Kenan. Jamaica Kincaid is huge for me, especially in terms of voice. Junot Diaz is way up there, as well. I really admire his imagination, and the way he works with the seams of so many different languages—hip-hop, gaming culture, sci-fi, postmodern literature all share equal space in his writerly vocabulary. To me, he’s sort of like James Joyce in that way, a young, urban, Latino master writer who takes on several worlds at once, shows how they overlap and making them timeless. So challenging, and so fun.

Tell us about your class at Running Wild. Why short stories? How do you envision the class interacting?

I think short fiction is a great way to approach a writing workshop for lots of reasons. First, it helps beginning writers wrap their fingers around the tools of fiction. It introduces them to the different parts of fiction, from character to plot to setting to voice to structure. In this workshop, we’ll look at really short pieces from published writers that show what can be done with each of these tools, and we’ll also do regular writing exercises that help us explore each of these elements and generate ideas for our own stories.

There are also practical reasons for focusing on short stories—they’ve got everything fiction needs, but in a small little package. This means everyone comes away with a complete draft in our five-week class, and we can spend our class sessions really digging into the bones and muscle and skin of each story. Plus, short stories are a great way to introduce oneself to the world as a writer, especially in this tough publishing market. I’m hoping more experienced folks will be able to use the class as a chance to work under low-stakes deadlines and start getting their work out there, or to continue to develop their stories, if they’re already published writers. I like to establish an environment that’s focused on really writing and talking about writing, seeing what makes stories work. This way, experienced writers get the deadlines and feedback they need to push their work forward, and newer writers get to explore their writerly toolkits with a group of people who love to write and read. Even folks who don’t see themselves as “writers,” per se, can come and have fun, join a community of writers, and have a hand in making great fiction happen.

Not only are you prolific but you also speak quite frequently in both academic settings and readings. What was your favorite speaking engagement and why?

Thanks, Lisa. That’s a tough question. I’ve been lucky enough to have had lots of great experiences at conferences and readings. I have to say that I really enjoy sharing my work. I love the feeling that comes with actually connecting with people over writing, breathing the same air as we share ideas and stories. It’s so hard to pick a favorite, but one that stands out is a reading I did at Barnes and Noble in New York a few years ago. I was reading a story that had been published in Bloom that year, but I’d actually written the first draft in my second year at Smith College. The story was about a black girl from Harlem who finds herself at a small New England college, and uses fantasy and a kind of magic to help herself feel at home. It was so much fun to go back to that story in that venue, and it was then that I realized that actually having fun while you read is the key. When a writer is having fun at a reading, I think it’s hard for the audience not to join in.

Did you have a mentor and if so, how did that person help guide you?

I’ve been really lucky on this front too. I have several mentors, and I’m always urging writers and other artists to prize those relationships for themselves. My first mentor was my fifth-grade English teacher. I still have the notes she wrote on my little stories from that time. Since then, I’ve been fortunate enough to connect with a number of writers whose fiction and teaching leave me in awe. They’ve helped with everything from reading drafts to alerting me to publishing and residency opportunities to offering pep-talks and advice when I’m stuck. I think mentors are indispensible for writers. You have to have a model—or several models—as you develop your work and move forward as a writer. I’m always honored and excited when students approach me for that kind of guidance. I try to play it off and keep it strictly business, but I know they can tell I love it. They can see it in my smile.

Thank you so much for such a great interview. To find out more about Mecca’s class at Running Wild Writers, go to http://www.runningwildwriters.org/Announcements.html

Interview with Pennwriters Conference Coordinator

2010-02-01T05:41:00.003-05:00

Check out Jade Blackwater's interview with Ayleen Stellhorn, the Pennwriters 2010 Conference Coordinator -->
http://pennwritersarea6.wordpress.com/2010/02/01/feature-writer-interview-ayleen-stellhorn/

Ready to Run Wild?

2010-01-30T09:53:00.003-05:00

Don't miss our upcoming courses. Click on the links below for details.

February – April 2010
Fiction Writers Workshop with Lisa Diane Kastner
Thursdays, February 4 - April 10 at 7:00 PM

This ten-week course is designed to allow fiction writers an opportunity to obtain feedback on their prose as well as hone their own reviewer skills. Attendees will be given two opportunities to submit up to 5,000 words of writing to be reviewed by the group. The instructor will provide personalized feedback for each participant's submission. Course

Requirements:
Participants must submit at least one piece of up to 5,000 words within the ten week timeframe. Participants are expected to actively participate in discussing the pieces submitted in the framing of craft. The instructor will provide a basic guide to assist participants in assessing the pieces submitted for craft elements.

Interested? Click here --> http://shop.runningwildwriters.org/product.sc?productId=5&categoryId=1
Pennwriters Member? Click here --> http://shop.runningwildwriters.org/product.sc?productId=2&categoryId=1

March 2010
Telling Tales: Elements of the Short Story with Mecca Jamilah Sullivan
Tuesdays, March 2 - March 30 at 7:00 PM

Description:
This five-week course will allow beginning, intermediate, and advanced writers to explore the genre of the short story, providing participants with the tools to create engaging, original worlds in short fiction. Focusing on several key aspects of fiction (character, setting, voice/point-of-view, structure, and plot), the course will help students craft their own stories, respond to one-another’s stories, and identify strengths and techniques in the works of established writers they admire.

Course Requirements:
Each writer will submit one short story of 5-10 pages to be read and discussed by all workshop participants. Writers will also submit a one-page response to every story submitted, discussing the author’s use of key craft elements. Each writer will act as discussant for one story, sharing their perspective on that story and opening conversation among the rest of the workshop participants. If scheduling permits, we’ll have a closing reading and reception, where we’ll share our work with each other, as well as with invited guests.

Interested? Click here --> http://shop.runningwildwriters.org/product.sc?productId=6&categoryId=1
Pennwriters Member? Click here --> http://shop.runningwildwriters.org/product.sc?productId=7&categoryId=1

Writing The Epic Quest with Jack Hillman
Saturday, March 20 beginning at 1 PM.
With so much of the focus in writing today on character based stories, what could be more timely than a discussion of the art form that transforms some mild mannered individual into a something totally outside their nature, and not always to the good. Epic quests are not limited to fantasy and science fiction, but have been part of literature since writing was invented. All genre's have their favorite epic quest: the romance of Gone With The Wind, the tragedy of Moby Dick, the excitement of the chase in Raiders of the Lost Ark, the dark power of The Maltese Falcon. All really good novels have a part of the epic quest in their making. We will discuss the breakdown of the various characters that make up the quest- the fellowship- and how each one may play many, and often conflicting, parts as the story unfolds. We will also discuss how the protagonist (not necessarily a hero) is becoming more prevalent in today's literature and how this affects the tone of the quest.

Materials:
Along with the standard writer's pen and paper, it is suggested that you come prepared with at least a general idea outline for your story, including the genre, the setting, and at least some of the main characters of your story.

Interested? Click here --> http://shop.runningwildwriters.org/product.sc?productId=10&categoryId=1
Pennwriters Member? Click here --> http://shop.runningwildwriters.org/product.sc?productId=11&categoryId=1

What's a Pennwriter? Click here --> www.pennwriters.com
Want to learn how to Run Wild? Click here --> www.runningwildwriters.org

Instructor Biographies
Jack Hillman
A lifelong Pennsylvania resident, Jack began a love of books sitting amid the mystery of hospitals and medical paraphernalia. Mythology of all cultures and a fascination with martial philosophies led to King Arthur, the knights of the round table and an array of science fiction and fantasy authors that had a strong impact on his life. Real life got in the way of a writing career to start, but thirty years in the life and medical insurance field led Jack to a job as a stringer for local newspapers and writing for medical and insurance journals. In addition to years in the insurance field Jack also has fifteen years experience as a journalist and freelance writer, and has even won a Keystone Press Award (1998) for his journalistic efforts.

Jack has written on a wide variety of subjects and keeps his hand in medical and insurance matters on a daily basis. In addition to newspaper reporting and magazine articles, Jack has written articles for a variety websites--some under his own name and some as a behind-the-scenes contributor. Jack's first short fiction piece, a novella, was serialized in an old BBS site in 1992, with the first hard copy magazine story arriving in 1993. Four dinner theater plays written by Jack have been produced and performed for local theater in Eastern Pennsylvania.

His novels are now coming to light with the release of There Are Giants In This Valley published by Archebooks Publishing. With experience as a journalist, short story writer, playwright and novelist, Jack often speaks at writer's conferences, to writer's groups and to school gatherings. If you are looking for a speaker on esoteric subjects, Jack probably has something tucked away in a folder for the occasion.

Lisa Diane Kastner
Lisa Diane Kastner, fiction writer, creative non-fiction explorer, and former journalist writes fiction from Philadelphia and draws inspiration from her experiences. Kastner promises that her flaming red head tendencies will neither detract nor overly add to the commentary. If anything, it will bring a bit of flavor, like cinnamon.

A former correspondent for the Philadelphia Theatre Review and Features Editor for the Picolata Review, Kastner currently writes freelance and by invitation in literature and the arts. Her literary interviews include Charles Baxter (Academy of Arts and Letters Award in Literature 1997) and Lee Martin (Pulitzer Prize Nominee 2006).

Her short stories have been appeared in magazines and journals. In 2007 Lisa was featured among up-and-coming Philadelphia writers in Fresh Lines @ Fresh Nine, a public reading hosted by Gross McCleaf Art Gallery.

She is an alumna of The Bread Loaf Writers Conference, Squaw Valley Writers Workshop, Kenyon Writers Workshop, University of Pennsylvania's Conference for Writers, Chautauqua Institute, and the Rittenhouse Writers Group (RWG). She is the Founder of Running Wild Writers Community, LLC and President of Pennwriters, Inc. (www.pennwriters.com) , a 501(c)(3) organization dedicated to assisting the novice to the award winning and multipublished writers to learn and succeed in the craft. She is the founder of the Pennwriters King of Prussia and Philadelphia Critique Groups, and can be found throughout the region leading workshops on business communications, and occasionally performing on the local stage or such theater companies as CelebrationTheater.

Mecca Jamilah Sullivan
Mecca Jamilah Sullivan is a writer from Harlem, New York. Her fiction has appeared and is forthcoming in a number of journals and anthologies, including Best New Writing 2010, Crab Orchard Review, Bloom, Lumina, Philadelphia Stories, What I Know is Me (Harlem Moon/Doubleday), Baby Remember My Name (Carroll & Graf), X-24 Unclassified (UK, Lubin & Kleyner), Amistad (Howard University), Woman’s Work (Girlchild Press), Black Ivy (Yale University), Roots and Culture (Columbia University), In/Vision (Temple University), Homeboy Review, and Baobab South African Journal of New Writing.

She has also published nonfiction pieces and critical reviews in American Visions and GLQ. A 2006 Best New American Voices nominee, Mecca has several received honors and awards for her fiction, including Crab Orchard Review’s 2008 Charles Johnson Student Fiction Award for her short story, “A Strange People,” the Future Faculty Fellowship in Fiction and the 2005 William Gunn Fiction Award from Temple University, as well as a noted writer distinction from the Boston Fiction Festival for her fiction excerpt “She Woke Up With the Words in Her Mouth” (later re-titled “Saturday”).

Most recently, her short story, “Wolfpack,” was shortlisted for the 2009 Eric Hoffer Award from Best New Writing. Her short fiction collection manuscript, Blue Talk and Love, was named a finalist for the 2009 Sol Books Prose Series award. Mecca’s one-act plays have been staged at the Hallie Flannegan Theatre and Theatre 14 at Smith College in Northampton, MA., and at the New World Theatre in Amherst, MA, where her play “Peel Away” won the 2001 James Baldwin Memorial Playwriting Award. In 1999 she won the National Gold Medal in Playwriting in the NAACP ACT-SO competition for her play “Lovely Day,” and in 2002 she was awarded a Smith College Praxis Grant to stage her longer one-act, “Love Coming Soon” at the Harlem Theatre Company in New York City.

Most recently, her first full-length play, “Two Rings,” which explores the intersections of race, sexuality, spirituality, and class on contemporary relationships and imaginations, was named a finalist for the 2009 Downtown Urban Theatre Festival in New York City.

Winner of Temple University’s 2005 “Rookie of the Year” award for Critical Writing instruction, as well as Temple’s 2006 Certificate of Merit in Teaching, Mecca has designed and led courses in Critical Writing, Fiction Writing, and Poetry Writing at Temple University, the Community College of Philadelphia, the University of Pennsylvania, and TreeHouse Books in North Philadelphia. Focusing on the inter-genre and interdisciplinary aspects of writing, her writing courses encourage students of all ages to consider the connections between reading and writing of various kinds.

Mecca has been invited to read with and participate in several writing communities, including the Bread Loaf Summer Writers Conference, the Kelly Writers House at the University of Pennsylvania, the Key West Literary Seminars, the Pan-African Literary Forum in Ghana, and the New York State Summer Writers Institute, where she received a 2005 Smith-Shonubi Scholarship in fiction.

She holds a B.A. in Afro-American Studies from Smith College and an M.A. in English and Creative Writing from Temple University. She is currently a Ph.D. candidate in English Literature at the University of Pennsylvania, where her dissertation research focuses on the connections between identity and literary form in black women’s fiction, poetry, drama and film.

She is also completing edits on her first novel, tentatively titled She Woke Up With the Words in Her Mouth. Set largely in Harlem in the 1980’s and 1990’s, the novel explores the relationships between race, class, body image, and love in contemporary American families.

Don’t Miss the Next Fiction Writers Workshop Starts February 4

2010-01-10T07:42:00.001-05:00

Running Wild Writers, LLC will conduct its first fiction writers’ workshop for 2010 beginning Thursday, February 4 at 7 PM for ten weeks. In the heart of an artists’ community, workshops will be held at 1241 Carpenter St., Philadelphia, PA 19147.

Members will have the chance to workshop two pieces, maximum of 5,000 words each. The pieces will be given thorough written feedback by the instructor as well as feedback from fellow attendees.

The ten week course will cost $410 for non-Pennwriters and $375 for Pennwriters.
Registration is available at www.runningwildwriters.org.

For more information, contact Lisa at lisa at runningwildwriters com org

Lisa’s Bio
A former correspondent for the Philadelphia Theatre Review and Features Editor for the Picolata Review, Lisa Kastner currently writes freelance and by invitation in literature and the arts. Her literary interviews include Charles Baxter (Academy of Arts and Letters Award in Literature 1997) and Lee Martin (Pulitzer Prize Nominee 2006).

She is the Founder of Running Wild Writers Community, LLC and the President of Pennwriters (www.pennwriters.com), a not-for-profit organization dedicated to assisting the novice to the award winning and multipublished writers to learn and succeed in the craft. She is the founder of the Pennwriters King of Prussia Critique Group, Philadelphia Critique Group and has led workshops on business communications. Her short stories have been published in 63 Channels Journal and The StraightJackets Magazine.

Lisa promises that her facetious redheaded tendencies will not get in the way of the workshop but instead provide a bit of flavor, like cinnamon.

Running Wild Writers Community
Running Wild Writers Community is a not-for-profit created to assist up and coming writers to learn and excel in the craft of writing. Running Wild welcomes writers from all forms and all genres. Located at 1241 Carpenter St, Philadelphia, PA, Running Wild Writers is in the heart of an artists' community.

Pennwriters Philadelphia Critique Group

2010-01-09T11:59:00.001-05:00

The Pennwriters Philadelphia Critique Group will meet today, Saturday, January 9 at 3 PM at 1241 Carpenter St, Philadelphia, PA 19147. Parking is available in the back of the building off of Montrose Ave. When you arrive, call me at 610-235-9626 and I will let you in. All are welcomed to join us - no matter genre, form, style.

Critique Rules:
1. Bring up to five pages of prose (following standard manuscript guidelines) to be read silently by your fellow attendees. Remember to bring multiple copies to share.
2. Initially, fellow writers will read the work silently and then provide feedback.
3. Feedback is provided with the best intent. Three positive aspects and three areas of focus for revision. Focus on the positive and how to improve the piece.
4. If your work is being reviewed, keep an open mind. Don't respond to the feedback initially. Wait until the last person has provided input and then you are welcome to ask questions.

If you have any questions, feel free to email me at lisadkastner at gmail dot com or go to www.runningwildwriters.org

Life's Challenges

2010-01-09T09:35:00.003-05:00

Life is fraught with challenges. Some easy, like figuring out how to open a child-proof vitamin bottle (unless your mental age is three, like me, then it may be a bit more difficult), while others are more complex and vary with time, like figuring out a mathematical algorithm (Okay, I never conquered that one).

One of my life challenges has been weight management. As a child I swung from thin to obese (At the age of 12 I weighed 220 and I was only 4 foot 2 inches tall. Do the math.) As a pre-teen and teenager, I lost the weight and put it back on and then lost it again. I had a highly visible discussion about weight on Dance Party USA. I had lost approximately 30 pounds while on the show and was asked to talk about my battle with weight. Andy Gury, a dear and kind host, quite innocently asked me what it was like to be teased and I broke down crying. Not intentionally, mind you. But I did. That episode provoked thousands of viewers to call and write me about their own experiences with weight. At that moment, I knew I wasn't alone.

As an adult, my battle with weight continued. I would go through long stretches when my relationship with my weight, food, and exercise was healthy and then I'd hit a patch and would need to relearn how to interact with these bare necessities of life. Most recently, for six years, I have had a very healthy lifestyle which was dependent on lean eating and rigorous workouts. In the last year, my life has become much more sedentary and so I need to learn a new lifestyle and a new approach to those things that are truly necessities of life - food and exercise.

This past week, I rejoined Weight Watchers and have begun this journey. I find this to be a new and interesting life challenge for a few reasons:
1. My age - I'm 38 and the last time I went down this path, I was 30. According to various experts, the human body's metabolism slows down as we age and I've crossed one of those lovely birthday markers.
2. My lifestyle - Due to my overachieving nature (see previous post), I will need to lose a good portion of this weight and then engage a personal trainer to assist in rebuilding and restrengthening muscles so that I can then begin a regular workout routine that will not reinjure already sensitive muscles.
3. Results - Previously, I could somewhat predict what the results would be each week. I typically lost 1.5 to 2 pounds per week. If I worked out more, I lost more (sometimes it took a week or two to show up on the scale, but it happened). If I ate too much, I wouldn't lose as much or I might have gained. This time the results aren't as predictive, due to reasons 1 and 2.

For me this is an interesting challenge I look forward to conquering. A new lifestyle and a new way of being. Sounds exciting to me.

Writers Workshop Starts February and NEW Courses in 2010

2010-01-01T16:25:00.003-05:00

For immediate release
01 January 2009
Contact: Lisa Diane Kastner
Instructor
lisa at runningwildwriters dot org
www.runningwildwriters.org
610-235-9626

Writers Workshop Starts February and NEW Courses in 2010

Running Wild Writers, LLC will conduct its first fiction writers’ workshop for 2010 beginning Thursday, February 4 at 7:00 PM for 10 weeks. In the heart of an artists’ community, workshops will be held at 1241 Carpenter St., Philadelphia, PA 19147.

Formed by Lisa Diane Kastner, a fiction writer, former correspondent for the Philadelphia Theater Review, freelance journalist for the Delaware County Times, and Features Editor for the Picolata Review, Running Wild was created to provide a venue in which aspiring writers from all forms and all genres can learn and succeed in the craft.

“What makes Running Wild Writers unique is that we believe all forms and genres are valuable. Many workshops specialize in a specific genre such as literary, thriller, mystery, romance and so forth. At Running Wild, we believe that writers can learn and grow by reading and writing across genres,” said Ms. Kastner. “The same is true for form. Writers need to experiment in creative non-fiction, poetry, and fiction writing to hone their skills and discover who they are as writers.”

Workshop attendees will have two opportunities to submit up to 5,000 words of work to be reviewed by participants and to receive a detailed assessment from Ms. Kastner.

The ten week course will cost $410 for non-Pennwriters and $375 for Pennwriters.
Registration is available at www.runningwildwriters.org.

New Workshops in 2010
New to the calendar are Writing The Epic Quest on Saturday, March 20 and World Building 101 for All Genres on Saturday, October 22 with Jack Hillman

Writing the Epic Quest with Jack Hillman
With so much of the focus in writing today on character based stories, what could be more timely than a discussion of the art form that transforms some mild mannered individual into a something totally outside their nature, and not always to the good. Epic quests are not limited to fantasy and science fiction, but have been part of literature since writing was invented. All genre's have their favorite epic quest: the romance of Gone With The Wind, the tragedy of Moby Dick, the excitement of the chase in Raiders of the Lost Ark, the dark power of The Maltese Falcon. All really good novels have a part of the epic quest in their making. We will discuss the breakdown of the various characters that make up the quest- the fellowship- and how each one may play many, and often conflicting, parts as the story unfolds. We will also discuss how the protagonist (not necessarily a hero) is becoming more prevalent in today's literature and how this affects the tone of the quest.

World Building 101 For All Genres with Jack Hillman
No matter what type of novel you are writing, you will need to create the world your characters live in. Some of the simplest world building occurs if your story is set here and now, but even in those instances, you need to watch what building you put at what corner of the street, or even where you put the street. And if your story takes place in another milieu or some far away land (or some far away planet), your world building just became exponentially more involved. We will discuss how to construct the setting of your novel to maintain the continuity of your story, places to find the information needed to make sure you use the right clothing or the correct vehicles and even how to build a world from scratch, complete with its own solar system.

These courses are in addition to Running Wild’s calendar posted at www.runningwildwriters.org. Previously announced workshops include Telling Tales: Elements of the Short Story with Mecca Jamilah Sullivan to be offered on Tuesdays, from March 2 through March 30 at 7:00 PM and Poetry - The Value-Added Workshop: Pairing Generative Work with Liz Chang to be offered on Mondays and Wednesdays beginning April 19 through May 12 at 7:00 PM.

Running Wild Writers Community
Running Wild Writers Community is a not-for-profit created to assist up and coming writers to learn and excel in the craft of writing. Running Wild welcomes writers from all forms and all genres. Located at 1241 Carpenter St, Philadelphia, PA, Running Wild Writers is in the heart of an artists' community. For more information go to www.runningwildwriters.org or contact Lisa Diane Kastner at 610-235-9626 or via email at lisa@runningwildwriters.org

###

How I Spent 2009 and More to Come

2009-12-26T09:18:00.008-05:00

Now in the post-Christmas glow of gift giving and breaking bread with a great friend, I begin to ponder the past year and the year ahead.

The past year has been a whirlwind
- I launched a not-for-profit, Running Wild Writers Community and its initial fiction workshop.
- Pennwriters continues to thrive thanks to the work of the board, chairs, and numerous volunteers.
- Saw great changes and the continuation of changes as former Wyeth becomes integrated into the new Pfizer (FYI: I'm a Senior Project Manager at the new Pfizer and a former Wyeth employee).
- Continued work on ANANDA, a novel about a girl's struggle to understand her past and the mysterious disappearance of her mother.
- Completely revised JERSEY DINER/ONLY THE LUCKY FALL, a novel that follows a teenage girls celebrity interest as it devolves into celebrity stalking.
- Posted my revision process on this here blog.
- Began the process of querying agents for JERSEY DINER/ONLY THE LUCKY FALL.
- Taught How to Be Your Own Best Fiction Editor, online course for Pennwriters.
- Went through rehab for my knee. The ever talented moi managed to pop the sucker twice during one workout. Never one to do anything half-way, I spent the subsequent four months in physical therapy.
- Had the pleasure to reconnect with old friends and make new ones.
- Was given the opportunity to give to those less fortunate through volunteer activities. One such activity was to volunteer my time to an Adopt-A-Family program sponsored by the Joseph White Foundation. If you have a chance to give, this is a worthy cause. Also, if you feel stuck in your life and could use a push, then look at Joe's coaching classes. I had the privilege of attending a Dale Carnegie Leadership program and can say that life coaching can be a valuable experience.
- Took a great advanced writers workshop through Stanford with the ever-talented instructor Malena Watrous.
- Drummed in Carnaval in San Francisco with my fantastic sister-in-law, Marge.
- Met Malena and some of my fellow workshop attendees in a quaint coffee shop in San Francisco.
- Jumped on a plane to Barcelona, Spain with a phenomenal friend to attend an NYU Stern Alumni conference (Note: I am not the alumni, my friend gave me the great opportunity to attend) and have decided that if I could live anywhere in Europe, I would love to live in Barcelona, even though my Spanish vocabulary is equivalent to that of a two year old and if someone speaks to me in Catalan I seem to develop the deer-in-headlights syndrome.
- Applied to graduate schools for an Masters in Fine Arts in Creative Writing, so far I've gotten into one school and am waiting to hear from the others.
- Applied for a fellowship in social entrepreneurship to help build the foundation for a dream I have had - to create creative writing programs for inner city youths and children/teens who suffer with AIDS in order to provide them creative outlets and skills they can use in the future.
- Attended another great advanced writers workshop at Chautauqua Institute with Sarah Willis, a wonderful instructor.
Phew! That's a lot.

What's in store for 2010?
- Another amazing Pennwriters Conference coordinated by the ever-talented Ayleen Stellhorn with the internationally known keynote, James Rollins.
- I will teach the HYPERSPEED version of How to Be Your Own Best Fiction Editor at the 2010 Pennwriters Conference in May.
- Decide on which graduate program I will attend and then do it! I am really looking forward to graduate school. The MFA programs I applied to all have a mentoring element and I have found that for my own growth as a writer, mentoring can be invaluable.
- Hand my Pennwriters crown to the next president. My vote goes to the fantastic Carol Silvis, our current vice president.
- Continue to help integrate the new Pfizer.
- Continue to work on ANANDA.
- Teach at Running Wild Writers. Our 2010 calendar is already posted for your perusal. Some of our fantastic instructors include Mecca Jamilah Sullivan, Jack Hillman, Ron Hogan, and Donna Fletcher. To see our full list of instructors go here.
- Relearn how to eat and workout. Remember the knee injury mentioned above due to my overachieving nature? (Why harm yourself only once when you can do it twice in one workout? HA!) Well, I used to perform high intensity workouts. My activities of choice were running, biking (25 - 40 miles in a stretch), and Bikram yoga. The knee injury has found great friends in a hip injury on the same side of my body (thanks to my over-achievements in kickboxing) and a lower back injury (thanks to my over-achievements in lifting one too many heavy objects at a time). So those high intensity workouts are no more, which means I'm not burning the calories I used to, which means I cannot eat the way I did previously. So, in 2010 I will join WeightWatchers to help me re-learn how to eat with my new body and engage a personal trainer to teach me how to strengthen those weakened body parts and re-learn how to work out.

Who knows what else is in store? No matter, I look forward to the coming year with open arms.

Wishing you and yours the best in 2010.

Running Wild Writers Community Calendar Now Posted

2009-12-13T11:41:00.002-05:00

I just finished posting the 2010 Running Wild Writers Community Calendar at www.runningwildwriters.org.

I was happily surprised by the number of instructors interested in teaching at Running Wild. I hope you'll find the classes to your liking. I am very proud of the line up of courses as well as the instructors.

You MUST Have a Blog and a Website and a Platform

2009-11-27T17:36:00.003-05:00

Recently, someone who frequents the Pennwriters Philadelphia Critique group commented that she attended an amazing conference in the area. One of the best she's ever attended.

So, I asked, "What was the best part of the conference?"

"Definitely not the location but I have to say that the best workshop was one on marketing." She ticked off her fingers, "Every writer needs to have a blog, a website, a platform. I need to get a blog pronto!"

This exchange really upset me. I have heard more aspiring writers who change their focus from writing and learning the craft of writing to building a platform and writing a blog. They get lost in the press machine that accompanies getting published while forgetting that to get published they really need to know how to write.

Many, many writers are discovered by agents and editors without having a blog or a platform. These aspiring writers are recognized for being great writers.

If you are an aspiring writer, before running out and getting a blog and spending many hours a week writing for it and updating it, make sure you are spending as much, if not more energy on your prose. The blog posts and building platforms and websites may provide an immediate high but only great writing will get your foot in the door of an agent and an editor.

Great Lessons

2009-10-16T16:37:00.004-04:00

I'm in the midst of teaching my first online course through Pennwriters and I'm thrilled at the quality of work that's been submitted. My students are asking great questions that force me to think about various areas of craft. For me, this is one of the greatest benefits of teaching - I learn as much from the students questions and submissions as they do by taking the course.

Even better is the fact that we have a variety of writing styles and genres in the online course. We have romance, fantasy and literary to name a few, represented by the participants.

I have always believed that writers from various genres and forms learn the most by interacting with those who write in different genres and forms. I think this course, as well as the in person course I'm teaching at Running Wild is proving this.

An example is that an unnamed student in the Running Wild Workshop had attended a workshop run by a different group/person. In the Running Wild Worshop we have persons who write in crime fiction, literary fiction, fantasy, historic, and who typically write plays.

The unnamed student said she was a little disappointed in the other workshop because the writing seemed homogonized and that everyone was too positive so that the writers didn't learn how to improve.

Of course I felt vindicated when she said she prefered interacting with writers from a variety of backgrounds because she learns so much more. I'm so happy that students find value in the courses.

Change

2009-10-11T17:53:00.004-04:00

In the midst of change we find ourselves, even if we lose ourselves a bit along the way.

Change is what drives story. Something has changed. A love is no longer. A calm sea is in distress. A once stable marriage is in tumult. Nations war. A child is born. A broken heart. A healed heart. Friends become enemies. Enemies become friends.

Without change there is no story, no conflict, no interest, no reason to read or become engaged.

Yet change in our lives can be haphazard, difficult, nerve wracking, joyous, painful, euphoric.

In the next few weeks, I will have major life changes that will hopefully come to resolution.

The final ties of a relationship long ago broken should be severed. This sounds horrid but it is something I have anticipated for three years now. I have been in wait for the day to come, October 20, in which hopefully the final verdict will be made and I can move on with my life. The door opening, greater opportunities available on the other side.

An agreement signed for the company I work for to be taken over by another. A takeover for which we have been preparing for nearly a year. Another door that has been closed will become open with the final inking of official documents. The blessing of countries finalizing a corporate bond. Another ending that promises greater beginnings.

The months or years of anticipation have included all of the emotions mentioned above but mostly a feeling of living in wait. A type of "life pause" that involves preparation and promises much yet at times can feel unbearable especially when I only want resolution. A final verdict. An ending to initiate a beginning.

And these experiences are what stories come from. They seed the subconcious and are then fertilized and watered with time and experience to one day join the roots and branches of the ever growing tree of self to then reroot in the form of a story about a shop, a poem about architecture, a painting of lillies, a photo of a lake.

I Have Lost My Blinkin' Mind

2009-10-02T17:11:00.003-04:00

An amazing friend recently texted me and called me SuperWoman. I'm not sure this was intended as a compliment. She referenced the fact that my plate overfloweth with activities.

For instance:
1. I am teaching a workshop at Running Wild. I am loving the workshop. The participants are amazing, the writing is great and the conversation lively. Great elements for the beginnings of a successful workshop.
2. I am teaching an online course, How to Be Your Own Best Fiction Editor. We have 26 participants signed up for the class. Luckily, I'm an Internet junky and normally operate on limited sleep otherwise I doubt I would be able to respond to all of the wonderful email conversations. So far the discussion has been interesting and looks like we have a lot of talented persons signed up for the course. I'm sure they'll keep me on my toes.
3. I am preparing a condensed version of "How to Be Your Own Best Fiction Editor" for the upcoming Pennwriters Conference in 2010. This course will be broken into two sessions. The first session will be in a lecture format and the second session will involve the students applying the lessons from the first session. I call this HTBYOBFE on hyperspeed.
4. I have an interesting and challenging day job as a senior project manager.
5. I run Pennwriters, as if you hadn't noticed that before.
6. I'm working on my own manuscript that is currently in bits and pieces on my hard drive but hopefully will look more like a fully realized story in upcoming months.

Manuscript Triage - Part Six

2009-09-13T08:27:00.002-04:00

This is the final installment of my revision process. I have:
- Analyzed the primary and secondary characters.
- Identified/confirmed the plot and its arc.
- Eliminated unneeded scenes, chapters, characters, and the like.
- Performed a line edit to remove unnecessary words, sentences, paragraphs.
- Re-read the manuscript as reader to identify if the story works, holes in the story, etc.
- Identified on each page if there is action and use of at least one sense (smell, taste, touch, sound). If there wasn't action on the page and the use of at least one sense, then I added that element.
- Performed a revision to fill holes.
- Re-read the story again to ensure it works.

Alrighty, let's fast forward to today. I have sent the revised manuscript to three very generous volunteers. All come from quite different backgrounds and were asked to read because of certain fortays (voracious reader, detailed writer and excellent "reader" writer, one of my stellar readers).

With this, I'm returning to writing a different manuscript that I have recently received great guidance on. So far, I am really happy with the results. This fledgling piece is not nearly as advanced in terms of completion. I haven't written a solid first draft yet. I look forward to when I can claim that badge.

Until next time, happy writing (or reading as the case may be).

Manuscript Triage - Part Five

2009-08-30T08:29:00.000-04:00

I am in the middle of the line edit and I'm finding really interesting themes in my writing.
1. Elaborate - I write summary sentences and then elaborate. In actuality, I write a sentence that is succinct and then I think, "Hey, I should really explain that" and I go on to explain or describe what I mean. If you think about it, this is not surprising. Much of our writing life in schooling is writing essays and papers. The classic paragraph is to write a summary sentence and then back it up with additional information. So some of this is unlearning what we've been taught or rather learning how to identify the summary statements and then knowing what to do with them. During the revision process, I eliminated the original summary sentence and kept the descriptive sentences.
2. Many metaphors/analogies - I tend to have multiple descriptive sentences that basically say the same thing. He is awkward like a bear in a tutu. He walks like a drunken duck. Okay, bad examples but you get the idea. So, I select the ones that are strongest and delete the others.
3. And then, and then, and then - I have a lot of useless words, such as "a lot" or "many" or "sometimes". Delete!
4. Crystallize - I use vague words like "should". Again, common when business writing (because absolutes are rare) but not so good when trying to form an image for a reader. I also create characters that are intended to be tertiary but stay on stage for a bit and then become integral to the storyline. I describe them but I don't name them. Congratulations writer, you have now given birth to a hundred and thirty pound waitress! Time to give her a name. Joan Mekran is a good name. Welcome Joan.
5. Pacing - Some sections need to have better pacing. What I mean is, I have sections that are summaries and might be great if this was an article in the NY Times or the Philadelphia Inquirer but for a novel it needs more. By adding description, details, and dialogue I can elongate the scene, make it vivid, and make a scene fuller and robust versus a few squat paragraphs.
6. Should it stay or should it go - During my revision process, I stumble across paragraphs or even chapters that I'm not sure if I need them. Instead of deleting them, I bold them so I can return to them later. What I have found is that the section is one that the story needs but it may need a bit of sprucing like a fresh coat of paint or incense. For those writing YA, strawberry lipgloss.

Fiction Writers Workshop

2009-08-23T09:53:00.003-04:00

New Fiction Writers Workshop in September

Running Wild Writers Workshop will hold a fiction writers workshop beginning Thursday, September 24 at 7 PM for ten weeks. In the heart of an artists’ community, workshops will be held at 1241 Carpenter St., Philadelphia, PA 19147.

Members will have the chance to workshop two pieces, maximum of 5,000 words each. The pieces will be given thorough written feedback by the instructor as well as feedback from fellow attendees.

The ten week course will cost $410 for non-Pennwriters and $375 for Pennwriters.
Registration is available at www.runningwildwriters.org.

Lisa’s Bio
A former correspondent for the Philadelphia Theatre Review and Features Editor for the Picolata Review, Lisa Kastner currently writes freelance and by invitation in literature and the arts. Her literary interviews include Charles Baxter (Academy of Arts and Letters Award in Literature 1997) and Lee Martin (Pulitzer Prize Nominee 2006).

She is the Founder of Running Wild Writers Community, LLC and the President of Pennwriters (www.pennwriters.com), a not-for-profit organization dedicated to assisting the novice to the award winning and multipublished writers to learn and succeed in the craft. She is the founder of the Pennwriters King of Prussia Critique Group and has led workshops on business communications. Her short stories have been published in 63 Channels Journal and The StraightJackets Magazine.

Running Wild Writers Community
Running Wild Writers Community is a not-for-profit created to assist up and coming writers to learn and excel in the craft of writing. Running Wild welcomes writers from all forms and all genres. Located at 1241 Carpenter St, Philadelphia, PA, Running Wild Writers is in the heart of an artists' community.

Contact: Lisa Kastner
Instructor
lisa@runningwildwriters.org
www.runningwildwriters.org
610-235-9626

Manuscript Triage - Step Four

2009-08-21T10:02:00.000-04:00

And now the ever so fun part of revisions. Time to look at your scenes. Is this scene memorable? Initially, do not look at the manuscript. Think through the most memorable scenes. Guess what? Those are your strongest.

Now, skim through the manuscript. And I mean SKIM. DO NOT READ. SKIM. Is this scene memorable? Does it serve a purpose? If it does not serve a purpose then CUT IT OUT!

You'll feel better when you are done.