Chance = Change

It seems that one of the essays I've sent out , just a few days ago, has attracted some interest and I've been told it will be published in the April issue of The Marina Times, here in San Francisco.  The Editor, the generous-spirited and cordial Cindy Beckman, emailed me shortly after she read it (it's called My Deal With Buddha: Getting the Piano to the 2nd Floor),told me she thought it was "fun", and she thought she'd have room in her April issue to print it. Would I please send her some bio info for the end tag spot. Yes, you betcha!

It feels like a dream to me.  Almost as good as it felt to be nominated for a Tony Award back in 1985. Now, why is that?  Truly, I feel such elation at this kindly reception, this chance I have for the first time to be published by people I don't know (except for an odd poem or two way back when, in such obscure poetry journals that I think they have long breathed their last, bless them).  And I am floating on a small cloud of accomplishment that feels very pink, indeed.

Why?

Because I have always loved to write - have loved it far more than I have ever loved performing (isn't that odd?) - and only recently have I decided to devote this part of my life to writing, and here is someone saying "yes" to this decision I've made. It's a small "yes" , comparatively - but in a city with the brain-power and worldliness of San Francisco, where so much good writing is going on, and where so many marvelous literary people live and have lived - such a small "yes" is a good quality "yes", at least in my way of thinking , and that is a fine thing.

My heart is filled with the joy of this small, meaningful "yes"....and I am grateful.

Labels: SF Writing

        As perhaps written earlier in this space, Adair Lara's book nearly fell off the shelf into my hands at the Barnes and Noble store in Johnson City. When I purchased it, much against my better judgement, since we were packing far too many books to move to SF, even after selling and giving away hundreds, i had no idea she was SF-based, so when I finished it, and adored it, and THEN saw she was not only based in SF, but was a much-beloved writer for the Chronicle for years , I figured it had to be fate...beshert , in Yiddish, as my mother was so fond of referring to...and so I emailed her quickly, requesting a place in her workshops...after sending her some prose (from this blog, in fact),  she asked me to join her January groups, and so I was in...and now AM in...and am glad.  It's a great focus for me.A genuine learning time.

        Before we all met, mid-January, she sent out some pre-workshop writing exercises she asked us to pick three of, covering such ideas as : write about the history of your hair....write about your father's clothes....write about a rental you've had....write about what's in your closet....stuff like that..provocative ideas to get us kick-started....and i could hardly wait.
        I chose for y first exercise a thing where she asked  that we start writing about a topic we had in mind, using this sentence fragment:  "And another thing that can be said about this topic is...." and then complete that sentence, moving on from there to see where it leads. Then after a page or so of that, beginning the next section on the same topic with this fragment: " What I am NOT going to write about this topic is..." and see where that takes you.  That is very interesting because it turns your mind around and makes you examine the story or essay idea from the entire other side.

Labels: SF Writing

Sitting at my worktable, my large windows looking out onto a rainy, grey and deeply atmospheric Friday morning Lombard Street, and I feel like I should start a mystery novel today, but first I need to acquire a slouchy felt hat, well worn and stained with coffee and nicotine, an elegantly shabby trench coat, also well worn and stained with coffee and nicotine  (mystery writers drink coffee and smoke a lot don't they?), and be appropriately starved for both real food and romantic adventure.

There are no fog horns this morning - or at least I don't hear them because my windows are closed against the rain - but in my mind the Fine Ladies of the Bay are mournfully tooting their dire warnings, and mischief is afoot in the harbors...how could it not be on a day like this?  Longshoremen (whatever they are - I never have known...) lurking against damp , lichen-covered walls, their knitted hats pulled down to cover their eyebrows, and cigarettes , somehow miraculously alight in this rainy weather, supply the only touch of bright orange color midst all the grey of the day....they mumble something about "waiting for Lefty" and there is a sense of menace in the air.

Or maybe, they're just hungry and want an early lunch.

I took the pups out to do their morning toilette and they looked up at me like I was truly insane to expect anything out of them but the most token of pee's, and who could blame them. It's raining so hard. In one minute of exposure, their little soft coats were drenched  and sopping, and yet they bravely lifted their legs and squatted their delicate little squats and let their bladders add to the already too-wet morning.  I loved them for their expedition. And hurried them back inside to do their other stuff....I can always whisk that away before it sits for too long....it's the pee inside that is the real villain, so we avoid that at all costs.

Now, here we are, safely ensconced once more inside, but I have to brave the rainy storm to get to my trainer appointment soon: my date with Brice!  He nearly kills me each session....but why do I love it so much? Because I feel so damned good when it's done!  I now understand sado-masochism a bit better...but all kidding aside, the workouts he gives me are just right and attuned to my old-lady heart rate just so i don't get discouraged, and I always look forward to more. It's a gift Brice has: he gages me well. And i feel so much better now that my body is back in a gym routine once again.  It's been a while since I've even had the or energies to devote to such important activity, and I am grateful for it.

But back to the mystery I should be writing today.

Murder, mayhem and mellifluous music of the foghorns , the backdrop for an international scheme:  the rare and vital elements that could cure Japan's nuclear reactor problems are on their way to that troubled country - necessities to save the population and the world from nuclear holocaust - but the secret couriers are brutally murdered at the Port of San Francisco and their bodies scarred with a bloody message asking for ransom of the stolen vital goods!

 How were they detected , first of all? Who knew the couriers  to be what they were and what they carried with them?  Obviously an inside job, who are the villainous , hard-hearted terrorists behind this inhumane plot ?

And where did the vital life-saving equipment/elements go? Who has them? THey have a short shelf-life, so time is important: they MUST be found.  THe Japan situation grows worse daily, and people - millions of people will soon die if the kidnapped items are not found and utilized correctly.

I see the movie of course starring Harrison Ford and Clyde Kusatsu as the Japanese Prime Minister...and the first day of shooting takes place on a day just like today, when all the important Port shots are accomplished...then the unit moves to Seattle, where it's like this more of the time!

Hmmmmm......what shall we call it?   Murder on the Richter Scale ?.....  or  Glowing into the Abyss   ?.....or  Murder a' Tremble  ? .......or   maybe The Hot Potato Murders.....?

Oh well - gotta go to the gym now...being a writer is fun!   I can think up entire worlds and what happens in them...then I get to get up from the desk and go to the gym!  Feels sort of god-like....

Hmmm... i wonder if there's a murder mystery plot in that idea?

love,
ev

Labels: SF Writing

              After Peter leaves for work at a mid-town San Francisco office, and I've walked the doggies to their private little place behind our building so they can do their morning thing, I pour my 2nd cup of strong Peet's coffee and sit down to my future.  The future that I have begun to carve out for myself by moving to San Francisco.

               When I was younger, and new to my first chosen hometown, New York CIty, my mornings were clear and open to another future, and, though the morning ritual was often the same - husband off to work, (but then it was to help struggling NYC theatrical non-profits survive) - doggies emptied - (but on the hard pavements of NYC ) - my energies were just as devoted, just as focused, and I felt the same anticipation and  joy at being able to pursue my genuine dreams, in order to make them a reality.  Then, my dream was to be a New York actress, to keep working in the theater - any theater that would have me - and to grow a career I could be proud to claim.  I spent more than three decades on that dream, and, without bragging, I can say that I achieved what I set out to do.  I earned a substantial  living, and I lived a full life doing it: auditioning, getting cast in projects I wanted to be cast in, schlepping nightly to work in long-running Broadway shows, earning good money in TV and radio commercials, doing "interesting" work in various theaters in NYC and around the country, and even getting nominated for awards that recognized my particular talents, and finally teaching and directing shows I felt great pride in helping to develop. I did indeed fulfill that earlier-part-of-my-life dream, never imagining that I'd spend my life doing anything else or doing it anywhere else,for that matter.

            Now I am in San Francisco, a city that , for years, my husband and I have wanted to live in, and I have set all things theatrical aside in order to dive into an entirely new dream: writing.  But, as i look back through my 4 decades of journal keeping, I see it's not such a new dream after all, because phrases like "Gee, I wish I had more time to write about that!" , " If I didn't have to run off to rehearsal, I'd write more pages about this." , "One day, I 'm gonna sit down and really write all about this." and " I WISH I had more time to WRITE!" keep turning up month after month, year after year!  So, I guess I am finally doing what I have wanted to do for a very long time.

           I'm also beginning to see how the process of living is very much like the process of writing: when you start out, it may be with some idea or other that drives you forward, but you never really do know what's coming next, even if you think you do. The story as you planned it suddenly goes off in a totally other direction, as the true needs and desires of your main character (you) rise to the surface and make you decide otherwise....unexpected events shift the gears for  you ....wants and needs and , yes, dreams, that may have been long buried suddenly assert themselves, and paths become open and clear that never seemed to even exist before....it's all an adventure and the best we can do is stay as open as possible to the possibilities that could bring us limitless joy.  It's when we have done our pre-judging, our DECIDING that it should all be a certain prescribed way that we encounter disappointment and terror, because finally the control we think we have over Life is no control at all, but rather a sad illusion. And for those set in their ways, the yanking away of this illusion is a scary thing.  All of a sudden, what do they do with their hands?

             I say let the hands sculpt something.  Let your voice , used to telling others how things should be - let that voice sing instead.  Let your mind open. Sweep it clean.  Ready it for new things to find their home there.  Life is a metaphor anyway, nothing we think of as real actually is, but rather only our idea of what it is, and our opinions shape our lives, so...change them. Change your point of view on something you think is absolutely written in stone, and see what happens. If you listen to conservative news, try listening to the liberal side for a change. And, just for a lark, agree with it for a day...or at least try to....if you are a dyed-in-the-wool liberal, think like a Tea Party person for a day and see what they see...if you are homophobic, go kiss a person of the same sex!  If you think you can't, then do it anyway!
Let yourself discover what might have been below your surface for as long as you can remember.  And give it a chance to live in the sun.  New dreams may emerge. New ways of living may result.

          Truly, you just never know until you try.  And it's not so easy to do this, since you are bound to go into the experiment already thinking it's wrong, and that you're right....but try...really try. It's only for a day. What harm can it do.....except to change your life forever?

           And who knows: maybe your life has been asking for a change. And like a parent turning a deaf ear to a whining child, you've just not been listening.






              

            

Labels: SF Writing

Hi folks - and a special hello to all of you who read this blog regularly - there are not many of you that I'm aware of, but every now and then, I hear from one of you, and , as I've said before, it means a lot to me.  I do know that alerts go out to some folks too, whenever a new one of these postings happens. So for you regulars, there's this:

I've not exactly been missing in action - though the posts have been scarce of late, and usually to do with my daily activities which seem so fascinating to me, (and, inexplicably, to a few of you as well, thank you very much)...it's more like I've been missing BECAUSE of action, that action being the inordinate amount of writing assignments tossed at me by the ever - wonderful Adair Lara, leader of our pack.

I use "inordinate" not in its meaning as  "unwarranted" or "overmuch", but in its more specific meaning: "extravagant", "immoderate"...since every single exercise we're given, every assignment, is useful and welcome.  But there has been a lot to do, and more every day as I realize the true reason I am
in the writing workshop to begin with: to learn how to write more effectively.  With more technique that I can put to good use in pointing, shaping and refining the writing that pours out of me naturally.

The aim of course is not to curtail that natural flow. In fact, I am grateful, more than ever, for the sheer years I've put in as a writer in my journals and blogs, because I am actually pretty fearless in letting the ideas pour out, and every now and then in that torrent of words comes a phrase or two that are better than the others, and that say something unique, and very much mine.

But I've rarely had to write "to purpose" before...in other words, I've rambled...and rambled...wanting to simply have a space on a blank page for my every thought to come alive in front of me , establishing a sort of dialogue , I suppose, with my own mind.  In writing , the blank page became my friend who is ever there no matter whatever or whoever is not.  Writing is really my constant "other", my true companion.  A lively conversation between two absolutely delightful  characters, both of whom are parts of me...i mean, come on, at least for me, that can never be boring!

Then, you all came along and decided you liked to read that dialogue between two friends , as it were (the two parts of me), and i then had some one else to write for: you guys.  But there've been no demands placed on me, no real goal or purpose other than to let you in on what I'm thinking and feeling - and no other discipline except that which my own need dictated: I've written when I've felt like it!   AND, the mission has been a noble one: to communicate, to let you know me better, and in turn, every now and then, to let me know you as well.  AND it's been fun, and will remain so, I dearly hope.

The only time I've been required to write has been for dear Barter Theatre, whenever I've directed a show in the season. Director's Notes are de rigeur and though in the midst of a manic schedule they can be seen as a burden, I always adored writing them. But they always became better once my boss had time to look at them and give me notes on them, to focus and guide their purpose for each show.  Once he vetted the first draft and led me in the direction of the more specific, the more personal, the Director's Notes became a true assignment I could learn from, and so I did.  And, I flatter myself to hope they also became better Director's Notes, at least from this particular director.  

But you see, they were guided...they were more like what I'm now doing in my Writing Workshop: in this first 12-week workshop , my first ever, since college, i am being required to learn things I'd forgotten, or have never known, and the pieces I am writing are disciplined for a purpose larger than my own selfish ones, and are meant to communicate to a larger audience by the very nature of their being more crafted and skilled.

 I am actually having to edit to someone else's taste almost every single time I share a piece with the workshop and, though there have been a piece or two that have come full-blown out of my head that have been praised as  just right from the get-go, for the most part each piece I attempt is another learning step, and an arduous, difficult step at that...because I'VE NEVER HAD TO ANSWER TO ANYONE BUT MY OWN SOFT AND PERMISSIVE EGO!  I've ALWAYS loved what I write (really I still do)...but now I actually want it to BE GOOD!  Not that what you and I have responded to has not been good...but I'd like it to be better than good...I want to be the very best I can do as a writer: more concise, deeper in my thought process, capable of longer, more textured and detailed works, smarter, clearer, better all the way around. And so: this workshop is the first step in that direction of becoming a BETTER writer.  A more widely accepted writer, therefore. I'm talking publishing here.

SO - let me hear from you on this -  and even if I don't, rest assured:  I will keep you all posted, as I always eventually do, on how things are going, what life is bringing me here in the West, and how the entire writing challenge is proceeding.  I feel it is the adventure of my life now, and it could feel righter.

As ever, i look forward to hearing from you all too.  Please : YOU keep ME posted too.

Labels: SF Writing

I know it's a 1st-person Prose/Essay Workshop, but in response to yesterday's "prompt" assignment, to write about something we love in a tone of hate or about something we hate in a tone of love, I had to write the following. You may sing out loud, if you wish:

Labels: SF Writing

      So, I met Andrew C. down at Green's (my local vegetarian place by the Bay)  this morning to talk about his screenplay, and to discuss writing in general. It was such fun, so productive for us both, we decided to become writing partners, meet every Tuesday morning at Green's, and assess each other's work.   We will drink organic coffee and talk.

      Andrew is my upstairs neighbor.  From Canada, right outside Toronto, he is adorable, 40-something, bright-eyed, articulate, and very very passionate about film writing, acting, and his gorgeous French girlfriend. They own the most beautiful red setter named Pastis. While Valerie studies to become a Somatic Therapist (hello, San Francisco), Andrew waits tables at a nearby swank eatery and takes a UCLA screenwriting course on line.  I've read part of one project he's working on, and now am in possession of an entire screenplay he feels is ready to be shopped around, if only he knew how to do it.  As writing partners, I promised him I'd help him  find a way.

       I like Andrew C. He is very smart about structure, and I can learn from him, even though I am not writing for the screen, because, after all, story telling is story telling, and the elements are pretty much the same, no matter the medium: premise, scene , dialogue, conflict, strategies, denouement, surprise, simplicity, power.  How to build tension. How to economically create truthful characters.  And it's nice to have someone outside my workshop to discuss these things with.  He is smart, is Andrew, and can articulate his ideas well. Since he's studied acting both in Canada and NYC, and believes, as I do, that Sanford Meisner is the best of the modern American acting "gurus",  we have more of a common language than usual, and his desires to communicate , I find, are actually very theatrically oriented, so there is an avenue of discussion we can walk down together as we both explore how to become better writers.  This is the sort of friendship I find myself developing here in this new city I call home.

        Last night, speaking of developing friendships, Peter and I went to an amazingly delicious dinner party at Paul and Stephen's. Six truly nice and interesting members of the San Francisco Insight Meditation sangha (community) were invited to sit around Paul and Stephen's red dining table and share some wonderful food and wine, and, as usual, Stephen outdid himself creating another totally tasty meal for all: trout fillets, done to perfection, an enormous bowl of the most succulent roasted root vegetables, colorfully pretty and totally delicious (he has a way of seasoning that truly enhances vegetables), another steaming bowl of fresh greens, with tomato, garlic,etc...and a new thing he tried: a mushroom pasty, comprised of layers of delicate puff pastry filled with a mixture of chopped wild mushrooms, grains and ricotta cheese...absolutely fabulous!  A perfect meal. Hearty, thoroughly good tasting, with textures that enhanced each mouthful. One of those great meals!  Dessert was good coffee and two of Stephen's specialties: an apple-dapple cake, topped with a yogurt-citrus sauce(yum!) and a chocolate tofu pie ,fresh out of the oven and melt-in-your-mouth divine!  We all sat at table for nearly 3 hours, the food and conversation was flowing like crazy...wines too, although , knowing of my morning meeting with Andrew, I drank water and Diet Coke all night.  We all ate too much, but we had to, it was so good.

        The main thing from that dinner last night?  I could feel important and warmly necessary new friendships germinating, and ones already established, growing.  I felt like this was a community we could easily gain from being part of, and we came away truly liking these people. It was a smart table, and knowing their Buddhist practice centers them in compassion and concern for the planet and those who live on it, these are also people who use their intelligence to help others and to improve their own places on the planet as well.  In other words, good food, good people:  a productive evening for our future here in the  marvelous new city of ours.

        And, i have a new writing buddy: Andrew C.   Good allies are important to have. Never can have too many, especially ones whose intellects you admire.  In line with , I am meeting my workshop partner, Chuck H. for a burger at The Grind , near Adair's house, before tonight's workshop meeting.
We will, of course, talk about writing.  And the workshop . And then, probably , more about writing.
This makes me happy.   Whenever I used to come out West with a touring show I was in, and we'd "sit down" in SF or LA for a series of weeks' performances. I'd wake up every morning, smell the fresh lemon trees and be grateful that I had a job that gave me the privilege of living , even temporarily, in  such glorious places.   I'd be grateful for the sun, the Ocean, the fresh fragrances of California, the palm trees.   This morning , as I was walking to Green's in the 8:00 A.M. mists across Fort Mason Park, I realized something:
      
        I've now given myself this luxury, this privilege, of being in a fine place with a warm and congenial climate and, with this decision to concentrate on writing for now, I don't even have  a 7:30 "half-hour call" for a show tonight! I have my life to call my own...in a place with palm trees. I sigh with joy.

Labels: SF Writing

      So, here's what's happening:   I am in this writers workshop now....led by the delightful Adair Lara...and I am writing so much on the many assignments we are given, I seem to have totally forgotten about writing in this blog !!   Therefore, this lovely Sunday morning in San Francisco, I decided I'd better rectify that situation and do a little catching up , so you faithful readers will know why I've been absent for a while.  My head is whirling with new stuff I've learned and am learning, and each day is centered right now on writing, writing and more writing....I want you to be included in on some of it, and where it comes from in the workshop process.
      First, let me say I'm sorry for ignoring you.  You're the people who have been so faithful in listening to whatever I've had to say in these spaces, and you've never stinted in your support and praise...i feel there are friends I've made through this blog that I would not have otherwise...and I want to keep you both as friends and readers.  So let me assure you of one thing: what I am learning in this writers workshop is fantastically interesting and can only benefit my future writing, so hopefully all of you who read it will benefit too.  But it's interesting in another way as well.
      When you focus on something, you see it in more detail, and you notice its flaws as well as its beauties.   And right now, with a specific audience to write for (my workshop group) and certain goals to achieve (the exercise work we are assigned in large amounts every week), i have become more self-conscious of how and what I write.
      This is not a bad thing.  No, not at all.
      But it is a different thing.  A different way of my coming to my writing. A different set of awarenesses and considerations about it.  And more often than I can ever remember before, I am wanting it to be "good"...to follow certain rules...new rules I am learning on what good writing is made of....in the workshop , we read as well as write, and with each new essay I read, I am overwhelmed by the craft it takes to write it.
    I am not dismissing my talent -if I dare to call it that - I know I have a way with words and how to make them flow.I understand rhythm, a certain kind of "voice" and I am relatively literate: I know how to put words together to form thoughts, some of which, at certain times are not uninteresting.  If I didn't like what I've already written over the years (in my 38 or more years of journal writing, and my decade or so of writing on line journals), then I'd stop doing it! But I do, so I won't.
     But, I'm in this learning place, y'see...and what I don't know - or more to the point - what I don't DO , is beginning to make me want to do more and know more.  But the main verb here is "do"...i need to write , yes...but then I need to re-write and re-write and re-write some more to make it better, tighter, more focused, deep, richer.   I am so used to simply letting my thoughts just flow out onto a writing surface, that I have spent very little time both considering what I write and re-writing it to make it better, and now I have the time to learn how to do that, I want to do it.  So I spend my days at my writing desk learning by doing.
      The flow is of course an extremely important thing to never stop....I am not saying I must stop the flow of my thoughts and words onto pages, wherever the pages may be....no, the flow of course matters deeply.  But I need to think and learn now how to capture the flow and make it serve an art form I have always adored, but never taken the time to truly master.  I've picked up just enough along the way to serve me well - and to bring my thoughts to others in ways that have mattered to me, and to those others ( you among them).  Now, I want to become better at it. So, let me tell you about this workshop, and why it has taken me away from these particular pages for a while lately.  This will be the subject of the next few blog entries: the Adair Lara Winter 2011 Writers Group, and what goes on there!
      So stay tuned! And, once again...thanks for listening.

Labels: SF Writing

          So....okay...looking through my years and years of handwritten journals, i keep running across the Phrase "Oh, if I only had time to write about this" or  "Gee, I wish I had time to really just write and write and write...",....stuff like that...there is a constant stream of yearning to write...put words and more words onto paper and tell stories, and record ...well...record ME...my life..my thoughts.,....(are we our thoughts?)
      
         It seems I have always wanted to not only be a writer, but I've always wanted to write...and ,if the journals are any evidence, i have done a lot of it: writing, I mean...and as I go through the stacks and notebooks and boxes of stuff we are now unpacking, i am realizing how much other stuff I have produced as well, besides the journals: stories, poems...more stories...ideas for all sorts of things....i have lots and lots of writing already done!..Not finished...but essentially and substantially done. It's a pleasure to make these discoveries....i am proud of all I've put on paper. And on my computer blog as well.
        It's not difficult to actually call myself a writer, based on all the stuff I have actually written.
        Now it's important to me that I actually learn how to  do it well, and it would also be good if I produced some publishable things . So, part of this time is for my beginning a real submission period: getting my writing out there. My meagre attempts to get some poetry published some years ago actually did yield about three or four of my poems being accepted and put into print...in small  journals no one ever heard of...but still , there was some acceptance out there.  And now it's time for more...more.
        My much-anticipated Winters Writers Workshop with Adair Lara began a couple of nights ago, at the lovely house that Adair owns and shares with her husband Bill.  I believe that  part of the large building is rented out to friends,etc. but the part that Adair and Bill live in is spacious, comfortable, and incredibly  familiar: it felt homey and ,as I said, familiar from the moment I walked in....it felt like Peter and I lived there: the books, the art, the large screen HDTV, the comfy furniture and lamps, the warmth of it, the creativity.  It felt so so so familiar...so comfortable.
        I had a one-on-one meeting arranged with Adair, before the 6:45 start time, so I was by far the earliest to arrive, and she invited me right away back into her large kitchen...i needed to clear my thinking and get my bearings as far as how to proceed in this new experience ...and she was very helpful: she listened, truly listened....and we shaped a few ideas about projects I both wanted to already do, and ones that were possible...she was helpful. And when we went around the circle once the workshop began, it was those ideas i told the group about.
        This group of people...what can I say?  It's like I have died and , yet again, gone to heaven, it is so perfect...like so much of this entire San Francisco time of my life: it is perfect.  The folks in it - some 12, I'd say - are smart, interesting, well-read, fun and funny, easy to be with, accomplished in so many varied professions...and did I say smart?? So many book titles , of things people were suggesting be read, and of things they themselves have written, were flying around the discussion, i had trouble writing them all down....and Adair is all business: no chitchat allowed: it's all about the writing. We can - and will - chat on our breaks...and over cups of coffee after the workshop, over dinners and , I suspect, lots of cocktails, if we evolve the way we possibly could evolve as a group.  It is a personable lot. Oh, and did I say smart  as well? This is a smart gang.
        We are assigned a new writing partner each week - so I will end up working with 12 new people in all - and this week I have the good fortune to be working with a man about my age, maybe slightly older, named Chuck H.  who is so truly interesting and the writing he has sent me so far is so good, so hearty and deeply thought and felt. We've given each other three new pieces, based on pre-workshop exercises Adair suggested, and I have sent him a couple new things quickly revised from blog entries that I want to submit to local papers.  And because we have all been advised to use the Track Change function on our MACS, i am learning an entire new thing about my computer's word processing abilities...and that is swell...so truly useful.
       So, for a week, we send our writing partner everything we write.  Plus, Adair gave us three or four things to write for next Tuesday...based on articles and ideas she uses to get our minds going...plus, she has already sent one , what she calls, "prompt", which is an order to drop everything else and write for 15 minutes about the topic she gives us. She sent one this morning.  It was fun. And I sent Chuck that as well. PLUS, we all had to choose 5 specific dates on which we will give her and her alone pieces of writing we want her to critique and work with. So, clearly, at least around my house, there is a lot of writing going on.  Heavenly. Wonderful . Exactly what I have been wanting for so long. Ecstasy.
        And with the new shelving Peter has put in our bedroom, i have a true writing area now....with room for all the stuff I have already written to be catalogued and stored for easy access..and room as well for all the new writing i am doing and it's great.  I have come to San Francisco, home to my writing self.
  

Labels: SF Writing