the reading, the reading

I have been meaning to post about the Mother Words Reading for a week now. But the days have been vanishing before my eyes. I have been busier this last week than I have been in a long time (and of course it's not as if I'm usually lolling around the house eating bonbons). I've been jumping from class prep to teaching to the book, the book, the book. I keep stealing away when the girls are occupied for a moment to sit down in front of my computer. And of course this busyness is compounded by the fact I'm exhausted because my dear toddler has been waking up in the middle of the night every night. Once she is situated in our bed, it often takes her an hour to fall back asleep. (It’s lots of fun.)

But I do have to write about the reading, which was wonderful. There is nothing like standing in front of a room of both familiar and unfamiliar faces, describing the work that is closest to your heart. That’s what I had the opportunity to do on Thursday in the lovely Target Performance Hall at the Open Book in Minneapolis. Thank you to all of you who made it down to the event!

Also, a huge thank you to The Loft Literary Center for hosting the event and to my friends and family who contributed appetizers (and amazing shortbread bars!) for the reception. I am also incredibly grateful to Hope Edelman and Bonnie J. Rough for flying to Minneapolis for the event. I know they both had long flights, and I’m honored that they made the trip in order to be a part of the 4th Annual Mother Words Reading. Thank you, Bonnie and Hope!!

I also have some great news: for the first time, the reading was recorded and it will be available as a podcast through Good Enough Moms! Thanks to Marti, Erin, Luke, and my dad (who helped cover the recording costs) for making this possible. I’ll link to Good Enough Moms, of course, when the podcast is available.

Now on to a few photos from the event:

I love this photo (except for the fact that it was the 4th—not 3rd—Annual Mother Words Reading. (It was the third one held at the Loft, though, so I’m sure that’s where the confusion arose.)

Me and Bonnie (center) and Hope (right) before the reading.




The wonderful opening act! I was thrilled to have Maria Asp, Darcey Engen, and Nanci Olesen perform a song from their new act, I'm Telling, an hour-long show featuring song and real life stories of motherhood, to kick off the evening. I'm sure many of you remember Nanci from her MOMbo show. And now, with the help and Maria and Darcey, Nanci is continuing to be an important voice for mothers in the arts. (I'm going to interview Nanci in the coming month here at Mother Words, but in the meantime please check out the group's website for upcoming performances.)

So it was a wonderful evening, and I'm looking forward to next year's event. I already have the readers lined up, and I will let you know more as soon as dates and details have been confirmed.

Thank you, as always, to all of you out there reading and promoting motherhood literature. You are making a difference!!

tonight!

Please come down to The Loft Literary Center at the Open Book in Minneapolis tonight for the 4th Annual Mother Words Reading featuring the wonderful Hope Edelman and Bonnie J. Rough.

Where: Target Performance Hall, Open Book

When: 7 - 9 p.m.

There will also be a special opening act by Darcey Engen, Maria Asp, and Nanci Olesen -- a brief sneak peak of their new show, I'm Telling.

It's free, so bring your friends and stay for the reception following the reading. I hope to see you there!

mother words week at cribsheet!

I'm thrilled to announce that it's Mother Words Week over at the StarTribune's Cribsheet blog. I know many of you are regular readers of Cribsheet. If you're not, you should be -- May and Kay are fabulous!

This year's Mother Words week features essays from my online Mother Words students, and it's being kicked off with a lovely piece by Cecilia, who writes the wonderful blog, Only You.

Please check out Cribsheet each day this week for a new essay. And congratulations to my wonderful students!

done!

I have been in a tizzy these last days, thinking about and managing logistics for the upcoming Mother Words reading (Oct. 7 at the Loft—don’t forget!) and I’ve also been writing writing writing away, trying to finish the memoir.

Well. I just typed the last sentence with tears in my eyes, and then I turned to the woman, a perfect stranger, next to me at the coffee shop and said, “I’m sorry. I don’t know you, but I have to tell you that I just finished my book.” She was gracious and polite and lovely.

Now I’ve just emailed all 345 pages to myself in case my very old laptop explodes on the way home from the coffee shop today.

I’m not completely done, of course. I need to go back over the last fifty pages, which I’ve written in a rush, and tweak and tighten. And then I’ll send the last chapters to my amazing writing group and then to my amazing agent. And then. And then. And then. Please.

But for now, I’m going to celebrate. It’s taken me a year and a half to rewrite this book, and it’s something of which I’m proud, really really proud.

This goes out to my Stella, of course. And to D, without whom I couldn’t have written a word. And to all of you for your cheering. Thanks, y’all.

3rd annual benefit for hunger

I have never gone to bed hungry. My children have never gone to bed hungry. But countless children in the United States do go to bed hungry, every night. What are we going to do about it?

September is Hunger Action Month.

Here are the facts:
* 50% of the households that benefit from food shelves have at least one child under the age of 18.
* An estimated 1 in 10 children in Minnesota lives in poverty and 1 in 3 qualifies for free and reduced lunches, based on low income guidelines.
* Children who suffer from poor nutrition during the brain’s most formative years score much lower on tests of vocabulary, reading comprehension, arithmetic and general knowledge.
* The fastest growing group of food shelf clients is the working poor: 47% of households using food shelves in our local service area report paid employment as their major source of income.
* There were more than 1.8 million visits to Minnesota food shelves in 2006, up from 1.7 million in 2005.

In 1984, an organization called Share Our Strength (SOS) was started by Bill and Debbie Shore with the belief that “everyone has a strength to share in the global fight against hunger and poverty, and that in these shared strengths lie sustainable solutions.” Working with Share Our Strength, creative writing programs at universities across the country began to give readings to benefit the fight against hunger. One night a year, hundreds of writers shared their words and raised money for Share Our Strength.

Twenty-five years later, there are only a handful of writing programs still hosting readings to end hunger. Some still raise money for SOS, some raise money for local food shelves. But for the most part, these readings have disappeared.

Award-winning novelist Charles Baxter is determined to see this tradition continue. On Wednesday, September 22nd Baxter will host the 3rd Annual Benefit for Hunger featuring readings by University of Minnesota Creative Writing Faculty, including Charles Baxter, Regents Professors and memoirists Patricia Hampl and Madelon Sprengnether, poet Maria Damon, novelist M. J. Fitzgerald, and poet Ray Gonzalez. Proceeds will go to Second Harvest Heartland.

When: Wednesday, September 22, 7:30 - 9:30 pm

Where: University Hall McNamara Alumni Center

Cost: Free with a suggested donation of $5.00.

(You can read my interview with Charles Baxter about the event here.)

If you’re here in the Twin Cities, please come down and listen to these wonderful authors read their writing. If you’re not local, please consider donating to or volunteering for your local food shelf or to donating to Share Our Strength. Ending hunger in the United States is possible if we all give a little. What can you do?

blogging is writing

I mentioned in my last post that I spent Saturday at the MN Blogger Conference, and I need to do a recap of the day here because it was such an amazing event. The space—CoCo MSP—was lovely and intimate (which was perfect for the conference, though I know many people who wanted to be there couldn’t because attendance was capped at 150.)

I took away something from each of the sessions, but one of the highlights of the conference for me was the opening keynote, in which a panel of Minnesota’s pioneering bloggers—Nancy Lyons, James Lieks, Teresa Boardman and Patrick Rhone—talked about how they got started and why blogging is an important part of their lives. Many of them have been blogging since before “blogging” was a term. Nancy mentioned that she loves the humanity of blogs, how they “connect us to one another.” Patrick mentioned how writing a blog can help you develop your unique writer’s voice. He also said that he prefers be called an “online writer” rather than a blogger because the term blogger “reduces the respect and credibility of those who write and publish online.” I couldn’t agree more.

My break-out session was “Growing as Writers: Taking Your Blog Posts to the Next Level,” which was basically a mini crash course in creative nonfiction. Echoing what Patrick Rhone said, I talked about how important it is to think about blogging as writing.

**I have to interrupt myself here and admit that I’m a Neanderthal. During my session, people were snapping photos and typing away, and I kept thinking, Are they bored? Are they texting their friends? What’s going on here? It was only after the session that I realized they were tweeting. I was probably one of three people at the conference who isn’t on twitter. (Thank you, Monika, for your patience and graciousness in showing me how it works!)

I was also one of the only people there who was taking notes throughout the day using an actual pen and paper. (At one point I pulled out my phone to check the time, and I was thoroughly embarrassed to be holding such an antiqued piece of equipment in my hands. It takes me about forty minutes to send one text message.) Note to self: Get up to speed.**

So I learned a ton about the business of blogging. (Though I wish I had been able to attend the sessions on analytics and SEO—I’ve no idea what SEO even is.)

But the biggest message I left the conference with was the way blogging can effect incredible change in people’s lives.

Heather of The Extraordinary Ordinary was amazing as she talked about finding one’s authentic blogging voice. You must read her story if you don’t already follow her. And her blog even looks great. What a lovely banner. (Note to self: Get up to speed.)

And of course, the final keynote of the day was delivered by Matt Logelin, who started to blog when his wife, Liz, was on bed rest awaiting the birth of their daughter. I’m sure many of you have been dedicated readers of Matt’s blog, where he’s written about his grief in the wake of Liz’s death, the day after their daughter, Maddy, was born, and where he continues to write about raising Maddy as a single dad. Even if you don’t read his blog, you’ll be moved to tears by his keynote, which is funny, heartbreaking, and down-to-earth. (And he swears a lot, which I love.) You can listen to it and a few other sessions from the conference at The Uptake.

You can also meet Matt this weekend if you’re in the Twin Cities. He’s doing fundraising for The Liz Logelin Foundation, which provides financial and material assistance to grief-stricken young families. A Celebration of Hope will take place Friday night, September 17th at 6:30 pm at Solera in Minneapolis. And walk run hope, the foundation 5K, will take place on Saturday the 18th at 6 pm at Minnehaha Park in Minneapolis. You can register the day of the event, so don’t worry if you haven’t signed up yet.

Thanks so much to Missy, Arik, Suzi, Katie, and Lindsey for making this such an incredible day. Now I better get my a** over to twitter and Get Up To Speed.

seven

The weekend was a blur. I spent Saturday at the first Minnesota Blogger Conference, which was a tremendous success thanks to the countless hours that went into planning and executing the event. (A huge thanks to Missy Berggren of The Marketing Mama and Arik Hansen of Communications Conversations for all their work.)

And yesterday, we had two birthday parties for Stella—a kid and a family party. She was buzzing around all day, unwrapping presents, giggling with her friends, unwrapping more presents, eating cake. (And of course talking to Nibbles, who has recovered nicely from The Incident. Thanks for all your well wishes.)

This morning, my alarm went off at 6:15. I quickly turned it off so I wouldn’t wake Zoë, who was in our bed because she wet her crib in the middle of the night (which happens at least four times a week because she refuses to wear diapers at night. “I’m not a baby!” she says adamantly when I try to convince her of the merits of diapers at night.)

I snuck out of the room and I slipped into Stella’s room, where she was sprawled across her bed, sound asleep. I sat down on the edge of her bed, and just stared at her, marveling at the fact that she’s seven, a first grader. I brushed the hair from her face and whispered, “Happy birthday, sweetie.”

Her eyes opened a little. “I’m so tired,” she said, stretching her arm.

“I know, honey.” I was tired, too, and I wanted nothing more than to climb into her bed and fall back asleep with my birthday girl. I kissed her temple and wrapped her into my arms.

And as happens every year on Stella’s birthday, I’m pulled back in time, to the day she was born. I go back to the magnesium sulfate, the vomiting, the suffocating heat in my veins. I go back to my supersonic hearing, the twisted sheets, the tests, the tests. I go back to the fear, the not-knowing, the eventual C-section. I go back to my three-pound daughter being whisked away as soon as she’s pulled from me.

The events of my preeclampsia and Stella’s birth follow me around all day in such clear detail that it feels as if I could step back in time, as if I could leap into a parallel universe in which all of those events are still happening.

But then Stella reaches her arms around my neck and says, “I love you, Mama.” And I’m back where I belong, with my seven-year-old clinging to sleep in the early morning on her birthday.

I love you, too, Stella. Happy Birthday, big girl!