Category Archives: Blog

My life after my writing program has been…stressful.

I would venture to say life after homework and packets is more stressful than during grad school. It’s the feeling of freedom that does it. You realize that you’ve graduated and therefore are finally free. The entire world is at your feet. What do you want to do?

If you’re anything like me, you want to do EVERYTHING.

That’s when life gets overwhelming because you try to do everything and everything is important.

Do you remember when you went school clothes shopping when you were younger? Or even Christmas Day? There were so many choices, so many clothes or toys to play with. You wanted to wear every outfit the first week or play with every toy instantly after you unwrapped it. It’s that feeling. Too much good too soon. That feeling is perhaps the worst good feeling in the world.

And because every possibility (or maybe more than you’re use to dealing with) is at your finger tips, you try to do them all for fear that they will no longer be there or, worst yet, you forget them all together and seem ungrateful for the gift you’ve been given.

So how have I handled that? Not well. Friends, who have also graduated with their masters, have told me there is a long period of adjustment after graduation. One friend said it took her at least six months and another said he’s still adjusting (six months later). The only solution, I have reluctantly found, is this:

Cutting myself some slack.

Just because I have every opportunity in front of me doesn’t mean I have to take them all. In fact, I’m not suppose to take them all. I should distill. Think about what I’m doing, what I want to do, what my goal are, and react accordingly. I shouldn’t fear that the opportunities presented in front of me will go away, if they were meant to be taken they’ll still be there.

This is a lesson I’m still learning myself but that I think every writer needs to and has to learn. Don’t believe me? Here are some quotes:

Ernest Hemingway: I never had to choose a subject – my subject rather chose me. 


Franz Kafka: By imposing too great a responsibility, or rather, all responsibility, on yourself, you crush yourself. 


And finally, and simply, Voltaire: My life is a struggle.

Pictured as I ran out the door. Oh how I hate to leave it.

As I recover from the AWP conference from last week, I’m putting together some blog posts that I think you’ll really love. But I couldn’t let today pass by without a birthday shot out to Gabriel Garcia Marquez, Gabo, the man I call El Maestro. Why do I call him teacher? Because he taught me how to be a writer and a journalist and how parts of those professions are married into each other. He taught me it’s okay to be both. He taught me to enjoy my natural curiosity. He taught me that family is the best well for story telling. He taught me that every life experience leads to a moment, the moment when you realize that writing chooses you and there is nothing you can do but become the storyteller you were meant to be.

Feliz cumple, Gabo!

Here the Christian Science Monitor did a great slideshow of Gabo quotes. Here is his famous interview in the Paris Review. And here is an article announcing the ebook version of 100 years of Solitude. Enjoy!

Tonight, I wanted what could be the final meal of my train trip to be great. Taking the train from Longview to Chicago and then back again for the AWP convention was fantastic. Except for losing a post for this blog, everything went without a hitch so to celebrate, I treated myself to a dinner in the dinning car.

That was probably the best decision I made this entire trip.

When I was seated (for dinner you can only make a reservation) I was alone, with all the other booths filled with people already having dinner conversations. Then, shortly after ordering my Mountain Dew, a woman and her mother slipped into the seat in front of me. The daughter was in her early 40s and the mom was elderly. Both African American women were beautiful. The daughter, at points, took the role of caretaker with the the mom and helped her order her meal. She was confident, an Atlas without the struggle. Her mother had the glow of warmth and was very approachable.

They both looked like they had a story to tell and I was ready to listen.

During dinner, the daughter and I learned how, in a Kevin Beacon six degree of separation way, we knew some of the same people and graduated from the same university (me undergrad and her masters) and were in a similar discipline. As they talked and, most especially when they interacted with each other, I realized that the story they had to tell was what I was already writing. The mother was an older version of a character in the current short (maybe) story I was writing. This is who Lola becomes.

I was having dinner with my character and her daughter and it was all I could do to rip my computer open and start writing.

Instead I watched them, heard them talk, observed their interaction. Then I listened to my creative brain fill me in on the rest of my story. Who’s daughter was that? When did Lola have it? What did her mother say? How did it change her life?

Those answers came to me and all because of a dinner conversation. I can’t tell you how awesome I’m feeling right now!

Don’t you love it when the ghosts talk? A very fruitful train ride, indeed.

– Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

We write because we have reasons that compel us to, a voice where one didn’t exist, a story determined to be written, a calling.

I didn’t become a writer to be praised, to have people fawn all over me, to been someone’s queen. Those are all great things, if that’s how you measure your self worth. And certainly it feels fantastic to be told how your work has influenced someone. But that’s not why I write.

I write because, simply, I have something to say. Because I can tell a story and I love doing it. Because there are few stories out there for me. Because I want to be a master storyteller. It’s what I’ve always wanted and it’s how I’m programmed.

Being with a large group of writers this weekend at the AWP conference in Chicago taught me two things — not everyone thinks that way and I know what kind of writer I don’t want to become.

While I have met some great people, there is a large group who are sharks. There are so many here that I can smell the blood in the water. It’s a competition. Who can get the most attention for their reading, book, chap book, organization, etc. Which program is the best? Why I’m a superstar and why you should know me.

I thought we were hear to talk about writing?

As I write this, I am currently in the over-priced cafe in the large and over designed hotel where this event is hosted. I’ve walked out of my second panel in two days, I avoided going to another panel because it was at another hotel and the bus was too late to go. I haven’t had a conversation with a soul since earlier this afternoon though I’m surrounded by thousands of people — I don’t feel the need to engage with my fellow writers for fear of disappointment.

But I guess I already am.

The entire time I’ve been here I’ve thanked my lucky stars that I’m a journalist. And though working at a daily newspaper does little to protect your writing spirit, it does keep you grounded into the reality. The reality here is that “writer” means different things to different people. To me it’s this life mission, this purpose, a calling. Its also a gift. I’m not sure if even five percent of the people at this conference share the same vision.

One more day and I return to create in the safety of my world.

– Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Editor’s Note: This post was written with an iPad app.

On this ride to Chicago, I am lucky enough to have my short story with me to work on.

It’s something I’ve been working on for a bit, since before graduation. And just like with new pieces, it’s a bit like a weed. It’s unruly. It doesn’t know what it wants to be yet but it knows it doesn’t want to be what I want it to be.

One of the things I’m having problems with is the setting. It feels like a historical piece, set in the south in the 40s.

That’s pretty easy if you live in Shreveport, LA considering very few things have changed since then but what about the setting reflects my character?

And there is where the journey began for me. How is my main character like the setting? How did it reflect her and her story? And, how will it change when she changes.

Then I thought about how African Americans would take trips north to start a new life when the old one had….overwhelming difficulties. They would take those trips on trains, like the one I’m riding now.

What would make someone run? A mistake. A big one. And bam! The story opened up in a different way. It was finally telling me what it want to be, what the arc was, and the ending. I call this “talking ghosts” when characters literally tell you their story.

I love it when that happens. And this couldn’t have happened without a simple train ride looking at scenes like this:

– Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

One of the hardest things for me last week is not having my friends and family with me. Of course I had my Goddard peeps but my friends and family helped me get my MFA. They were the ones who helped me through some of the rough spots. They saw me fall apart before picking me back up and sending me back down the path.

They didn’t get to hear me read or get to be part of this past amazing weekend. So I thought since I had this amazing venue, I’d read what I read for my graduate reading. It will also give regular readers of this blog a chance to hear what I’d been working on for the past two years. So for all the people who couldn’t be there and for the folks who want to hear it again (or for the first time) here it is! I’m extremely proud of it and hope you guys like it!

Enjoy!

I’m packing and getting ready for my trip to the west coast! Thought I’d take some time out and do an old school vlog!