tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1101300297862373062024-03-14T04:08:24.738-07:00Writers on Fire ~ UnpluggedRachel Resnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06377767453059698225noreply@blogger.comBlogger7125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-110130029786237306.post-43300287361698231672010-07-21T00:28:00.000-07:002010-07-21T01:37:34.625-07:00Alors, Monica Carter! Writers On Fire In France participant wins 2010 PEN Emerging Voices Fellowship - Final reading of all 2010 fellows at the Hammer tonite!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9_Yk6f6VnLIrighSYEfN79VIrl5DYSChrIs64Z3niRUgelTqZBKH0t3fyTja6AvGfQjILOXblfHZGykAzTiznZBfnoGpOXdnsnGQMrErh105YB21OEcfdHdpRweVFPg2hnuLnxJ0HiY8/s1600/0003.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9_Yk6f6VnLIrighSYEfN79VIrl5DYSChrIs64Z3niRUgelTqZBKH0t3fyTja6AvGfQjILOXblfHZGykAzTiznZBfnoGpOXdnsnGQMrErh105YB21OEcfdHdpRweVFPg2hnuLnxJ0HiY8/s320/0003.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> <span style="font-size: x-small;">Chateau St. Philippe</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span></div>When Monica came to the inaugural Writers On Fire In France retreat in August 2006, she blew us all away with her charm, raw talent and razor-sharp wit. She was still feeling her way into writing, still seeking her own voice and style. Four years later, Monica is one of a handful of 2010 PEN Emerging Voices fellows. She has also recently been named a 2010 Lambda Literary Fellow. I couldn't be prouder.<br />
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Monica is living proof that tenacity, focus and discipline coupled with talent can pay off. In all my years of teaching, I have seen countless gifted writers disappear. Just vanish. It always pains me. Often the most talented seem somehow unable to find the discipline, or the moxie, to make good on their creative promise. When talent and drive combine, it is truly cause for celebration. I also hope Monica demonstrates to you what can be achieved in a relatively short number of years [yes, four years is short in writing terms!] if you're focused and dedicated and willing to learn.<br />
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While Monica zoomed around the groovy Silverlake area getting ready for her event tomorrow night, and I hewed close to magical Topanga canyon, we engaged in a casual cyber-interview. I texted her a flurry of questions and Monica chose the ones which sparked her. The following is our exchange.<br />
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Enjoy! Let Monica's success encourage and inspire you. I hope you will come to the reading tonight at the Hammer! (For more info on reading and PEN Emerging Voices fellows, scroll to bottom of post).<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPnQiZIrkraGq-fg2dbnEZl_F7l_8eE8gv64mkJVuWeR6IXbwK34wAdOuIKV-ybAa2vUsfKRKs0bVnvHnVNdqfLusE4ivspYbSjMnj6zkzmVuKDmSlwx7jzVgW9khbUqJR8HUK5fqfbnw/s1600/typewriter.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPnQiZIrkraGq-fg2dbnEZl_F7l_8eE8gv64mkJVuWeR6IXbwK34wAdOuIKV-ybAa2vUsfKRKs0bVnvHnVNdqfLusE4ivspYbSjMnj6zkzmVuKDmSlwx7jzVgW9khbUqJR8HUK5fqfbnw/s320/typewriter.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Monica's prized 1934 Corona typewriter</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>RR: Can writing be taught?<br />
MC: Hmmm. Like comedy, I don't think writing can be taught. I think you can hone what's there, but you can't give someone that innate ability to create. I can be taught to function in a world of numbers, but it doesn't come to me naturally and thus, I am not an accountant. The same applies for the arts. We have natural proclivities and hopefully those are reflected in our choices in life. My writing has been positively affected by others, but I was not taught how to write. I was taught how to make what I have stronger, more effective. If it could be taught, then everyone who graduated form an MFA program would be successful and that is clearly not the case. I think in teaching, you can inspire, harness and refine.<br />
RR: What inspires you?<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPymlQJMHrGl5Pe8kdq0kvRSDb4TYS0Set-_td_riTGkPevYxkFBCyVwwXO15X-Cx6-70Hi26IoUeus5d_H77c0ZFBagd1woKgNdYXgyXJv_WcPG0k1cWr_44KQhWsznOlDSwvbqa-1Ts/s1600/stairs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPymlQJMHrGl5Pe8kdq0kvRSDb4TYS0Set-_td_riTGkPevYxkFBCyVwwXO15X-Cx6-70Hi26IoUeus5d_H77c0ZFBagd1woKgNdYXgyXJv_WcPG0k1cWr_44KQhWsznOlDSwvbqa-1Ts/s320/stairs.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Stairs downtown</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">One of Monica's shots today of inspiring architecture </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span> </div>MC: What doesn't? The choices people make inspires me. It makes me question how I have lived, how they live and what causes us to make different decisions. Architecture, especially tall buildings, inspire me. Every moment in every life contains thousands of details and in a tall office building, say, there are millions of details that are particular to those lives and particular to how they intersect with each other. The same goes for busy city streets, subways and airports. Lives and their traces of living are there for all of us to examine and it just depends on whether we notice them or not. <i><b>I tend to treat real life like television. It's difficult to stop watching. </b></i> [My bolding and italics; take note, aspiring writers! Observe the world around you! It is your paint box, as Stephen Elliott says.] Black and white photography inspires me. Music inspires me. Dramatic choices inspire me. The art of living inspires me.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV1xOh2qPUWeqckplAjxtUo4iBY53xOxPCLIZSginljPoVVRmgLenb3mfRiLLSB3amege3eGbKewzLOBvmEDbr-URHKsWxGkphjVWn6FpCS_vY-fo4UbUn-x2rkCVV61AMBgA3pch6e7o/s1600/library.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV1xOh2qPUWeqckplAjxtUo4iBY53xOxPCLIZSginljPoVVRmgLenb3mfRiLLSB3amege3eGbKewzLOBvmEDbr-URHKsWxGkphjVWn6FpCS_vY-fo4UbUn-x2rkCVV61AMBgA3pch6e7o/s320/library.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Downtown library</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Another Monica snap of inspiring architecture from today</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span> </div>RR: How would you describe your writing journey? One word.<br />
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</div>MC: Arduous.<br />
RR: Ha! Now. Has reading a book ever changed your life?<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://bioinfo.mbb.yale.edu/%7Embg/dom/fun3/great-gatsby/im.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://bioinfo.mbb.yale.edu/%7Embg/dom/fun3/great-gatsby/im.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>MC: <i>The Great Gatsby</i>. I know people misconstrue this as an homage to the rich, but seriously, the language is transcendent and the social commentary is trenchant.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.pearlsvintage.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/01/mia-farrow-and-robert-redford-in-the-great-gatsby.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.pearlsvintage.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/01/mia-farrow-and-robert-redford-in-the-great-gatsby.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>RR: You're just trying to justify your purchase of expensive shoes today for your event tomorrow! Who're your influences?<br />
MC: Toni Morrison, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Dawn Powell, Leonard Michaels, Edward Albee, Deborah Eisenberg, Emile Zola, Graham Green.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>RR: Impressive list! You remind us how important it is to read. I always say, you're only as good a writer as what you read. So. You were at the first Writers On Fire In France retreat. How did that fit into your writing journey? Do you have vivid memories of the experience? Of France?<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwQWPvuXlNbuo_E02T_8r55BcJs17D7hc1GRcJhMo-772RyP5RrMWQL8xzdx-lFTAj8EgX2DSnNmPXoxvM8So0DmKfSIAqxMAT96j723NyCltz8z_Gs8RTh_eFsGBxB68zcPS1Jwy1aYc/s1600/IMG_0069.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwQWPvuXlNbuo_E02T_8r55BcJs17D7hc1GRcJhMo-772RyP5RrMWQL8xzdx-lFTAj8EgX2DSnNmPXoxvM8So0DmKfSIAqxMAT96j723NyCltz8z_Gs8RTh_eFsGBxB68zcPS1Jwy1aYc/s320/IMG_0069.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> <span style="font-size: x-small;">Writing exercise outside chateau</span><br />
</div>MC: Writers on Fire was really integral and necessary for my growth as a writer. I wrote things I was uncomfortable writing about which in turn freed me to delve deeper into myself and write what I was afraid to write. I gained so much confidence during that retreat and learned to trust my own intuition. I became less worried about what I was going to write and discovered how to trust what I was writing.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcM02av0YOVxjdwMSAdtclslD37lKT17zOH1eYh_1KtHqs2F0I9j7SJOA-tDN2_V1gYG2oC5RzoQU_iWY_9aFV6uvJSiJigf7F6EZL6KzoQjnJA9WWuBpQ-yplW2E0eN_5lk261mobn2E/s1600/IMG_0064.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcM02av0YOVxjdwMSAdtclslD37lKT17zOH1eYh_1KtHqs2F0I9j7SJOA-tDN2_V1gYG2oC5RzoQU_iWY_9aFV6uvJSiJigf7F6EZL6KzoQjnJA9WWuBpQ-yplW2E0eN_5lk261mobn2E/s320/IMG_0064.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> <span style="font-size: x-small;">A few of the participants at local village cafe, Le Duc de Savoie.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Monica is second from the left</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span></div>The environment there was awe-inspiring from the chateau to the food. France seems to be a magical force for me. I have been so many places there and each one has inspired me to write. From the city to the country, it is saturated with history and a simplicity that strikes a creative chord with me.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMsskdh4TPOMvj8rqIOwmcbv0FQThUjrM9YlrRRluI_H88pjp-iLMzHUQ8uh9YjKbcdavCzd6dW9JrKn0MdknmoViqc5qI2421P7vx6jdmPW4uKBLz7aUKOyBbhNWyHKF8OFOK7LySRKk/s1600/0015.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMsskdh4TPOMvj8rqIOwmcbv0FQThUjrM9YlrRRluI_H88pjp-iLMzHUQ8uh9YjKbcdavCzd6dW9JrKn0MdknmoViqc5qI2421P7vx6jdmPW4uKBLz7aUKOyBbhNWyHKF8OFOK7LySRKk/s320/0015.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> <span style="font-size: x-small;">Chateau St. Philippe, front exterior at dusk</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span></div>RR: We were lucky to have you with us. How has the PEN fellowship changed or affected your writing? Do you have a special medal or something so people know?<br />
MC: I am still absorbing the PEN fellowship experience. There was so much to learn and so much that has helped my writing, I think that the benefits will seep out over the years in my writing. I have no medal, but a PEN tattoo on my forehead.<br />
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</div>RR: I'll be looking out for that forehead tat at the Hammer! Btw, do you write to music?<br />
MC: I do write to music, but not all the time. I look to music to put me in the mood or to set the tone.<br />
RR: What are you afraid of?<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/d/d8/Common_Cockroach_-_Project_Gutenberg_eText_16410.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="244" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/d/d8/Common_Cockroach_-_Project_Gutenberg_eText_16410.png" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>MC: Cockroaches, real and imagined. <br />
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</div>Inhibition. Mob mentality. Militants of any kind.<br />
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</div>RR: Love that you're afraid of inhibition. That's profound -- and a sure sign of a writer! I certainly hear you on mob mentality, too. So just now I saw a car advertising Survival Kits in the parking lot of Trader Joe's. WOULD YOU SURVIVE? was spelled out on in ominous white lettering on the side of the car. It got me thinking. What's your response to those words?<br />
MC: Yes. I am a bull. And I never go back.<br />
RR: What's your opinion on gay marriage? "The Real L Word"? Lindsay Lohan? Stephanie Meyer? Elizabeth Gilbert? Bjork?<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://static.technorati.com/10/06/06/13577/the-real-l-word-showtime-lesbian-reality-show-photos.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://static.technorati.com/10/06/06/13577/the-real-l-word-showtime-lesbian-reality-show-photos.jpg" width="249" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>MC: I think if they all got married it would be a really good Real L Word. Ilene Chaiken scares me.<br />
RR: What's your opinion on gay marriage?<br />
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</div>MC: Opinion? It's good. What's not to like? We are a capitalist society and any chance for for us to make money should be law. Whose to say we can't participate in the misery like everyone else? Besides, society owes us. I mean, where would reality television, fashion and humor be without us?<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.ballslist.com/travel/la/los-angeles.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="http://www.ballslist.com/travel/la/los-angeles.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>RR: How would you describe Los Angeles? Do you see the city as a woman? If so, what kind?<br />
MC: Los Angeles is the ultimate cool blond. You can discover her, but you never know her and she never asks you to.<br />
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</div>RR: Brilliant! What is easy for you and what is hard in writing? How do you work on what's hard?<br />
MC: All of it is hard and nothing is easy. To work on what is hard, I sit down everyday and try to write. And not judge what I have written.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdVUhSzn8GTAXxkA8uAvp0IQJVsL1JVrTIL5IpURQ9rx7u8YHhJOVEluFp6iDRi71bT7CIwp3B-uk71TsPJkUvRutyX43Mwy8YXIulleBoB3Y7uwRYF6_NLWbPLlcSG0SYD5qfkP-PDg4/s1600/bio+pic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdVUhSzn8GTAXxkA8uAvp0IQJVsL1JVrTIL5IpURQ9rx7u8YHhJOVEluFp6iDRi71bT7CIwp3B-uk71TsPJkUvRutyX43Mwy8YXIulleBoB3Y7uwRYF6_NLWbPLlcSG0SYD5qfkP-PDg4/s320/bio+pic.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Monica Carter</span><br />
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</div>Monica Carter, a 2010 PEN USA Emerging Voices Fellow and a 2010 Lambda Literary Fellow, has been published in Black Clock #12 and Pale House II. She is the owner and curator of her own website dedicated to international literature, <a href="http://www.salonicaworldlit.com/">Salonica World Lit</a>. Ms. Carter is working on her novel, <i>Eating the Apple</i>, set in 1930’s Manhattan which tells the story of an aging, alcoholic lesbian writer caught in a love triangle.<br />
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</div>The 2010 Emerging Voices Fellows are Lorene Garrett, Natashia Deón, Monica Carter, Bev Magennis and Simone Kang. This year has been an amazing journey with these five talented writers. Please join us in celebrating the completion of their fellowship with a reading and reception at the Hammer Museum. <br />
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Wednesday, July 21st at 7 pm.<br />
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Hammer Museum<br />
<span class="text_exposed_hide"></span><span class="text_exposed_show">10899 Wilshire Blvd<br />
Los Angeles, CA 90024<br />
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<a href="http://hammer.ucla.edu/programs/detail/program_id/535" onmousedown="UntrustedLink.bootstrap($(this), "13f8a", event);" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">http://hammer.ucla.edu/pro<wbr></wbr><span class="word_break"></span>grams/detail/program_id/53<wbr></wbr><span class="word_break"></span>5</a><br />
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ALL HAMMER PUBLIC PROGRAMS ARE FREE. Tickets are required, and are available at the Billy Wilder Theater Box Office one hour prior to start time. Limit one ticket per person on a first come, first served basis. Hammer members receive priority seating, subject to availability. Reservations not accepted, RSVPs not required.<br />
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Easy parking is available under the museum for $3 after 6:00.<br />
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<a href="http://www.penusa.org/upcoming" onmousedown="UntrustedLink.bootstrap($(this), "13f8a", event);" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">http://www.penusa.org/upco<wbr></wbr><span class="word_break"></span>ming</a><br />
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Emerging Voices is a literary fellowship program that aims to provide new writers, who lack access, with the tools they will need to launch a professional writing career. Over the course of one year, each fellow participates in a professional mentorship, hosted Q & A evenings with prominent local authors, a series of Master classes focused on genre, and two public readings. </span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show">[How cool! I also had the pleasure of teaching Lorene Garrett one day when I guest taught at Samantha Dunn's UCLA master class. The new breed of writers, coming to get ya!] </span>Rachel Resnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06377767453059698225noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-110130029786237306.post-81985029314019449352010-01-09T22:47:00.000-08:002010-02-20T13:36:14.984-08:00In-Class Exercise #2 - Beth Brett's East Village Bar Scene, With Tennis Racket<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://racquetstencil.com/images/Tennis-Racket.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://racquetstencil.com/images/Tennis-Racket.jpg" width="320" /></a> </div><div style="text-align: left;">Today, a former star tennis athlete transforms her writing with the help of her psychic racket. Read on for another in-class exercise from the ongoing book-writing workshop. I hope these posts inspire you to try your hand at timed writings yourselves -- whether you are in a workshop right now or not.</div><br />
Over the many years I've been teaching, I've witnessed magic happen when people write in-class, timed exercises. Everyone seems to get out of their own way and write better than themselves. There is simply no time for the critical voices to surface or for the self-conscious "writer" to tamper with the unconscious natural gift. This time, in the space of 15 minutes, Beth Brett departed from her conventional tennis racket approach to the page, and summoned a much groovier, imaginative, psychedelic version!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://fineartamerica.com/watermark.html?id=585852" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://fineartamerica.com/watermark.html?id=585852" width="320" /></a></div>Our in-class exercise was inspired by the book we're reading, <i>The Secret Life Of Puppets</i>. We'd just read and discussed the first chapter. Intrigued by, among other things, the concept of the "grotto," I suggested everyone write a scene that was somehow magical, spiritual, sacred. Include an animal -- a real animal, or animal as metaphor. Then set the scene in either a cave, catacomb, dungeon or cellar. Extra credit offered for including a glockenspiel. (The random, and humorous element, never hurts!) Fifteen minutes. And they were off! Scribbling and tapping away.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/41J74R6V58L._BO2,204,203,200_PIsitb-sticker-arrow-click,TopRight,35,-76_AA240_SH20_OU01_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/41J74R6V58L._BO2,204,203,200_PIsitb-sticker-arrow-click,TopRight,35,-76_AA240_SH20_OU01_.jpg" /></a></div>As usual, I let them know when they were halfway through. And when they had one minute to go. That's not an invitation to wrap things up with a pretty pink bow. Not in my workshops. In that last minute, I often nudge people to throw away any last vestiges of censorship and let it rip.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1421/551611211_44ba7abcff.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1421/551611211_44ba7abcff.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>Because this is an ongoing book-writing workshop, each person forged a scene that featured their protagonists and figured into their book somehow. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://lastheplace.com/images/article-images/Jane__s/Getty_Center_/The_J._Paul_Getty_Museum.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="251" src="http://lastheplace.com/images/article-images/Jane__s/Getty_Center_/The_J._Paul_Getty_Museum.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Here is Beth Brett's offering. Beth currently works as a publicist for The Getty. A Princeton graduate and a lifelong tennis star who started her court odyssey as a young child, Beth brings a determination and focus to her work that is mind-bending. However, her hard-working "good girl" mode sometimes gets in the way of allowing characters to misbehave. Not when the character of Frankie enters the scene! This in-class exercise was a bona fide breakthrough. A grand slam. Beth wrote in a fluid, loose style. Her sentences were shorter, crisper, more authoritative. She dared to skip around in time with ease, and evoked the jampacked, adrenalized bar crowd and its Beauty Bar environs with grit and verve in a way we had not seen in her other carefully prepared, manicured and somehow sanitized early pages. Actually, there were two modes in her submitted pages: good girl Disneyfication, and then fascinating flare-ups of a hidden angry, harsh tone. Yet they were like split personalities. Unintegrated. Until this exercise! Everything came together -- and humor volleyed through the vivid prose. There was a playfulness and warmth throughout. Since this point, Beth's acing her pages. I hope this inspires all of you to try out these exercises yourselves.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.dan-dare.org/FreeFun/Images/CartoonsMoviesTV/WaltDisneyWallpaper1024.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://www.dan-dare.org/FreeFun/Images/CartoonsMoviesTV/WaltDisneyWallpaper1024.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>FYI, I did not allow any of the workshop participants to alter their exercises from how they dashed them off in those 15 minutes. So flaws and frenzy are all laid bare, revealing the raw power of what they've wrought as well as giving insight into their process. There's plenty of time to nip, tuck and tweak later. The triumph is in experiencing a more integrated and focused style of writing. The writer suggests meaning by vividly rendering what's happening on the scene's surface - as well as pointing toward what's churning beneath. No mean feat!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.mindtalk.co.za/images/mindtalk_life_coaching_iceberg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="217" src="http://www.mindtalk.co.za/images/mindtalk_life_coaching_iceberg.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>BETH'S EXERCISE<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.zx81.org.uk/wp-content/uploads/2009/02/drunksnowman.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://www.zx81.org.uk/wp-content/uploads/2009/02/drunksnowman.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>It was Manhattan, the winter of 1998. I don’t recall the date, which may have had something to do with being drunk off my ass. I was a free bird. No courses. No senior thesis. No tennis. I was out with friends, barhopping in the East Village. We were getting slaphappy and silly. Frankie, my boyfriend of four years was getting belligerent as he had a tendency to do when he had one too many.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.game-savers.com/wp-content/uploads/2007/03/virtua-fighter-5-screenshot-_16.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="http://www.game-savers.com/wp-content/uploads/2007/03/virtua-fighter-5-screenshot-_16.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>The scene played out in my head before it happened. There was the time in Cambridge, when I tried to sneak past the bouncer and punches were thrown. There was the time we had the drunken munchies and ate omelets at the diner and left without paying. The time we tried to sneak Zorbie, the dwarf rabbit, into the fancy French bistro, which didn’t allow pets, but, instead, offered rabbit stew on the menu. And, then there was this night.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.nightliferatings.com/venueimgs/big/1190606895beauty%20bar.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="242" src="http://www.nightliferatings.com/venueimgs/big/1190606895beauty%20bar.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Our fingers were almost frostbitten as we waited outside to be let into the Beauty Bar. Dressed like he was headed into the Alaskan outback, the bouncer seemed to enjoy letting us suffer in the cold. I glanced in his direction, flipped my hair and batted my eyelashes, but nothing seemed to penetrate his icy glaze.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://truthpraiseandhelp.files.wordpress.com/2009/11/bouncer-with-headset1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://truthpraiseandhelp.files.wordpress.com/2009/11/bouncer-with-headset1.jpg" /></a></div><br />
“Let’s get out of here, this place isn’t worth the wait,” I said loudly once we were within earshot of the bouncer, I’d come to call the bar Nazi.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://beaviswood.net/images/Of-Course-I-Love-You-Posters.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://beaviswood.net/images/Of-Course-I-Love-You-Posters.JPG" width="218" /></a></div>Frankie wouldn’t budge. He was beyond listening, focused on the frosty beverage almost within range. We inched forward. I was still wearing my tennis shirt over my black warm-up pants. I had hit earlier that day. Come to think of it, I was still carrying my racquets. Clearly, I didn’t fit Nazi bouncer’s version of an “It” girl. Maybe we’d be lucky if we got in at all. <br />
He patrolled his turf, making sure everyone was single file in the line, enjoying his power. Finally, we made it to the checkpoint. We had our IDs. I was finally 21, so now I had proper identification. He let us pass. No questions asked.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.poolparty.com/poolparty/images/2008/08/15/madonna_abba_angel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="301" src="http://www.poolparty.com/poolparty/images/2008/08/15/madonna_abba_angel.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Finally, Frankie’s beer was in reach. We maneuvered past steamy bodies, glad for the body heat. Old school hair dryers were set up through the dark bar. We crushed peanut shells with our footsteps as Madonna’s Ray of Light played over the speakers crushing attempts at conversation.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://mrpickle22.files.wordpress.com/2009/05/gumby.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://mrpickle22.files.wordpress.com/2009/05/gumby.jpg" width="248" /></a></div>Frankie was long and lean and used his Gumby-like physique to lean over the patrons at the bar to get his order in. Ever the chivalrous knight, he managed to find me a thread-worn barstool in the midst of the madness. “Two Coronas, please,” he said to the scaly bar wench. He chugged it. He croaked hideously, the stench lingering. It was smoke-filled and steamy. New York’s “No Smoking” rule would take another five years to go into effect. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.irvinehousingblog.com/wp-content/uploads/2007/09/william_blake_dantes_inferno_whirlwind_of_lovers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="237" src="http://www.irvinehousingblog.com/wp-content/uploads/2007/09/william_blake_dantes_inferno_whirlwind_of_lovers.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;">To Frankie, hanging out in a bar, even a dive one as lowly as this, was a little slice of heaven, but to me, this was without question, one of Dante’s Rings of Hell. I could pretend to keep up, to enjoy these outings, but when it came down to it, there was no place I’d rather be than the tennis court. It was my version of Dorothy’s Kansas. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.beatportal.com/uploads/general/tBarCrowd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="http://www.beatportal.com/uploads/general/tBarCrowd.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.zororo.co.uk/images/tenniscourt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://www.zororo.co.uk/images/tenniscourt.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Tonight, we were 21, in the moment, still had our college drinking sea legs, ready to enjoy some beers and darts with old friends in a bar that felt close to home for Frankie, with its peanut shell-crusted carpet, ripped red leather booths, chipped, beer-stained banquets and tipsy barstools, mannequins of the clientele.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.onlinemarketingrant.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/12/outhouse-moon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://www.onlinemarketingrant.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/12/outhouse-moon.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>“I need to use the loo.”<br />
“I need to take a leak, too,” said Frankie, putting it ever so eloquently. <br />
Hell, we decided to make a field trip of it. We hit the single stall bathroom together. We weren’t planning anything. No kinky sex. No drugs. After four years together and a half-year living together, we were old hat at this, eating together, sleeping together, taking leaks together, that’s just what best friends with benefits did, I thought.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.wheresmycape.com/.a/6a00e54ecd86de88330120a663cf36970b-500wi" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://www.wheresmycape.com/.a/6a00e54ecd86de88330120a663cf36970b-500wi" width="320" /></a></div>There was a knock on the door. It came quickly. I was almost done peeing. “Hold on, there’s someone in here.”<br />
“Get out now,” came the authoritative voice on the other side of the wall. <br />
I quickly pulled up my pants and washed my hands. I was shaking a little. We opened the door slowly, Frankie putting himself in front of me, neither of us knowing what to expect.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://cultsha.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/04/bouncer-500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://cultsha.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/04/bouncer-500.jpg" width="226" /></a></div>“You two need to leave now,” shouted the Nazi bouncer, who had changed shifts from his outside post to inside the Beauty Bar. <br />
I was no troublemaker and he looked as though he meant it. Frankie was furious. He tried to argue as the bouncer gripped him by arm, escorting us both to the curb.<br />
“It’s one at a time, no one enters the bathroom together.” He said without apology.<br />
“Let’s go,” I pleaded with Frankie for the second time that evening.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://cracklecdn.zoovy.lg1.simplecdn.net/img/bamtar/W979-H1305-Bffffff/products/oktoberfest/dirndl_oktoberfest_costume_fraulein_beer_wench.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://cracklecdn.zoovy.lg1.simplecdn.net/img/bamtar/W979-H1305-Bffffff/products/oktoberfest/dirndl_oktoberfest_costume_fraulein_beer_wench.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>As I turned around to hail a cab to take us out of this messed up, deranged city to our one-bedroom on Fleet Street in Forest Hills, I missed Frankie spray-painting the front of the Beauty Bar with a stream of piss, spelling out F-U-C-K Y-O-U as he left his John Hancock on a detail of a German beer wench in her Lederhosen.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://daddycatchersrealm.files.wordpress.com/2009/03/bar-fight.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="248" src="http://daddycatchersrealm.files.wordpress.com/2009/03/bar-fight.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>The bouncer was not amused. Punches were thrown. My man’s watch was ripped off and then crushed with the stomp of the Nazi’s boot. I watched the scene with eyes half closed. Wondering if I should bring out the big gun, my tennis racquet. I prayed to G-d the cops wouldn’t arrest him; that we’d make it back safely to our cozy warm apartment in Forest Hills. <br />
It was probably a matter of seconds rather than minutes, but my prayers were answered and a more sympathetic bouncer and a few friskier guys out on the town came to our rescue. They let Frankie go, with the words “You’re not welcome here. Don’t ever come back here again,” throwing his watch at him for emphasis.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.jezblog.com/images/taxi_race2_blurNYC7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://www.jezblog.com/images/taxi_race2_blurNYC7.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>I had half my body in the taxi, waiting to be carried out of this night. From his running meter, it looked like only a minute had passed since the beginning and end of this horrible fight scene. “Where to?” 66-69 Fleet Street, I murmured, my eyes now half-closed. I relaxed now, leaning my head against Frankie’s shoulder. I warm and content now, knowing we lived to die another day. I feel asleep, lulled by the cab transporting away from what seemed like Dante’s Rings of Hell. Next thing I knew, Frankie was shaking me gently, “B, we’re home,” he said. He practically lifted me out of the cab like a sleeping child. My racquet was forgotten. The cab already pulling away from us and was heading down Fleet Street towards his next fare.Rachel Resnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06377767453059698225noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-110130029786237306.post-12869798891208727652010-01-02T11:57:00.000-08:002010-02-21T15:28:57.167-08:00In-Class Exercise #1 - Lisa Firestone's Monaco scene<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN0ydY0fC9uJ223Uez8IYAawrmI10rxl4e8WTehoAgmjGqcyITidAXlr-zkLJuPeS9toyLiGGHy-w2Q-VBD63Hx24p0dBrDYNJcXMmogR4skSKJ97MKu7XM3f3km_RSQoMazenK7-35od_/s1600/Full+blue+moon+on+dec+31+or+jan+1+2010.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN0ydY0fC9uJ223Uez8IYAawrmI10rxl4e8WTehoAgmjGqcyITidAXlr-zkLJuPeS9toyLiGGHy-w2Q-VBD63Hx24p0dBrDYNJcXMmogR4skSKJ97MKu7XM3f3km_RSQoMazenK7-35od_/s320/Full+blue+moon+on+dec+31+or+jan+1+2010.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>At the dawn of a new year and decade, with an auspicious blue moon lighting our path, I present a recent in-class exercise from the ongoing book-writing workshop. I hope these posts inspire you to try your hand at timed writings yourselves -- whether you are in a workshop right now or not.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.doctormacro1.info/Images/Curtis,%20Tony/Annex/Annex%20-%20Curtis,%20Tony%20%28Houdini%29_02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://www.doctormacro1.info/Images/Curtis,%20Tony/Annex/Annex%20-%20Curtis,%20Tony%20%28Houdini%29_02.jpg" width="256" /></a></div>Over the many years I've been teaching, I've witnessed magic happen when people write in-class, timed exercises. Everyone seems to get out of their own way and write better than themselves. There is simply no time for the critical voices to surface or for the self-conscious "writer" to tamper with the unconscious natural gift. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://vrlab.epfl.ch/%7Eclavien/images/LydiaPuppet.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://vrlab.epfl.ch/%7Eclavien/images/LydiaPuppet.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Our in-class exercise was inspired by the book we're reading, <i>The Secret Life Of Puppets</i>. We'd just read and discussed the first chapter. Intrigued by, among other things, the concept of the "grotto," I suggested everyone write a scene that was somehow magical, spiritual, sacred. Include an animal -- a real animal, or animal as metaphor. Then set the scene in either a cave, catacomb, dungeon or cellar. Extra credit offered for including a glockenspiel. (The random, and humorous element, never hurts!) Fifteen minutes. And they were off! Scribbling and tapping away.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.lifanovsky.com/photos/desktop/grotto.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://www.lifanovsky.com/photos/desktop/grotto.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>As usual, I let them know when they were halfway through. And when they had one minute to go. That's not an invitation to wrap things up with a pretty pink bow. Not in my workshops. In that last minute, I often nudge people to throw away any last vestiges of censorship and let it rip.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://kilburnhall.files.wordpress.com/2009/05/censorship2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://kilburnhall.files.wordpress.com/2009/05/censorship2.jpg" width="182" /></a></div>Because this is an ongoing book-writing workshop, each person forged a scene that featured their protagonists and figured into their book somehow. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://winthroptreeservice.net/uploads/pruning2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="http://winthroptreeservice.net/uploads/pruning2.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>Here is Lisa Firestone's offering. There is an ease, a humor, and a visceral quality to her in-class writing. She takes her time, and fully inhabits the scene in a way she often doesn't allow herself when she's banging out chapters for workshop deadlines. This is something many writers struggle with if they have busy lives, other jobs. You may be goal-oriented and driven to turn out pages. To complete drafts. To nail basic narrative flow. Then you get to go back and luxuriate in filling out the promise of those chapters. These are putter-inners. (I am a taker-outer myself!) When these type of writers do allow themselves to pause, and enter more deeply into a scene, the results are remarkable. It's as if they are prying open the prose and finding the hidden pulse that beats there. I've seen Lisa experience breakthroughs with these in-class exercises, and then bring that new quality back to her book. There's nothing more thrilling.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://songedunenuitdete.ifrance.com/NipTuck.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://songedunenuitdete.ifrance.com/NipTuck.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>FYI, I did not allow any of the workshop participants to alter their exercises from how they dashed them off in those 15 minutes. So flaws and frenzy are all laid bare, revealing the raw power of what they've wrought as well as giving insight into their process. There's plenty of time to nip, tuck and tweak later. The triumph is in experiencing a more integrated and focused style of writing. The writer suggests meaning by vividly rendering what's happening on the scene's surface - as well as pointing toward what's churning beneath. No mean feat!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://members.shaw.ca/boincmonaco/image/monaco_monte-carlo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://members.shaw.ca/boincmonaco/image/monaco_monte-carlo.jpg" width="224" /></a></div>Lisa's exercise:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://serenitythruhaiku.files.wordpress.com/2009/02/blind_leading_the_blind.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://serenitythruhaiku.files.wordpress.com/2009/02/blind_leading_the_blind.jpg" /></a></div><br />
</div><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> Flynn swam ahead of Alexander. She knew he was allowing her to lead. He told her to head toward the crevice in the rock where the waves crashed and to wait for him to lead her inside. She tread water with the power of the wave gently lifting and lowering her. Breathing was easier than she thought it would be and she trusted Alexander’s decision to bring her there. He swam up, placed his hand on her shoulder and led her through the steep divide in the rock. </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.jetsetlife.tv/blog/wp-content/uploads/2009/06/Blue-Grotto.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://www.jetsetlife.tv/blog/wp-content/uploads/2009/06/Blue-Grotto.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.myclassiclyrics.com/artist_biographies/Alexander_the_Great_Biography.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://www.myclassiclyrics.com/artist_biographies/Alexander_the_Great_Biography.jpg" width="160" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> “Duck and swim under the rock here,” Alexander said to her. "I will place my hand on your head and lead you up when it’s safe." Flynn wanted to turn back, she felt too enclosed, but Alexander looked at her.</span></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://thatsathought.files.wordpress.com/2008/07/claustrophobia.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://thatsathought.files.wordpress.com/2008/07/claustrophobia.jpg" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> </span></div><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> “One deep breath and we are going to make it under.” She inhaled then swam quickly until she felt Alexander’s hand rise her to the surface. Darkness surrounded them with one pitch of light on the rock forty feet behind them. She looked around the mostly still water that rose and fell gently. The power of the water remained on the other side of the rock.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i276.photobucket.com/albums/kk2/joyrock_dragon/starfire2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://i276.photobucket.com/albums/kk2/joyrock_dragon/starfire2.jpg" width="239" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> “Look up at the wall.” Alexander said to her. Bright green eyes stared back, the kind that were small and set very close together with wings attached.</span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://images.fanpop.com/images/image_uploads/Bats-Are-Good-halloween-526588_1600_1200.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://images.fanpop.com/images/image_uploads/Bats-Are-Good-halloween-526588_1600_1200.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> </span></div><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> “Bats?” Flynn asked, though she guessed at the answer.</span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.creationtips.com/Pix/bat_flying.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="127" src="http://www.creationtips.com/Pix/bat_flying.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> </span></div><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> “If one flies toward you, duck under the water.”</span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> Flynn kept her eyes up, circling around on alert.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://notesfromtheslushpile.co.uk/homesweetshed/beauty_contest_winner.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://notesfromtheslushpile.co.uk/homesweetshed/beauty_contest_winner.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> “Beautiful in here.” Alexander said, treading water slowly.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://rlv.zcache.com/this_is_not_a_sexual_innuendo_tshirt-p235194556599663536q6z4_400.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://rlv.zcache.com/this_is_not_a_sexual_innuendo_tshirt-p235194556599663536q6z4_400.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> “Yes, it is.” Flynn tread water more quickly.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.theage.com.au/ffximage/2006/03/23/2203dive_newbery_narrowweb__300x416,0.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://www.theage.com.au/ffximage/2006/03/23/2203dive_newbery_narrowweb__300x416,0.jpg" width="230" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> “Duck.” Alexander shouted pulling her down into the sea.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://tiffanygwong.files.wordpress.com/2009/04/do_hit_01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://tiffanygwong.files.wordpress.com/2009/04/do_hit_01.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> Flynn felt something hit the water just above her head. Alexander kept her down there for a few seconds then pulled her back up.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.yorkblog.com/onlyyork/GoDogGo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" height="198" src="http://www.yorkblog.com/onlyyork/GoDogGo.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> “I’m ready to go.” Flynn said, taking a big breath.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.comicbitsonline.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/02/pied-piper.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://www.comicbitsonline.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/02/pied-piper.jpg" width="136" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> “Follow me.”</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i.telegraph.co.uk/telegraph/multimedia/archive/01497/6-ALEXANDER-MCQUEE_1497106i.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://i.telegraph.co.uk/telegraph/multimedia/archive/01497/6-ALEXANDER-MCQUEE_1497106i.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://z.about.com/f/wiki/e/en/thumb/a/ae/GlockenspielSousaphone.jpg/250px-GlockenspielSousaphone.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://z.about.com/f/wiki/e/en/thumb/a/ae/GlockenspielSousaphone.jpg/250px-GlockenspielSousaphone.jpg" width="246" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> They went back under the rock and Flynn felt schools of fish rushing by pecking at her body like mallets on a glockenspiel.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.rozanehmagazine.com/SeptOct06/errol.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://www.rozanehmagazine.com/SeptOct06/errol.jpg" width="274" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> </span> Happy writing, and happy new year! I hope you summon your creativity in ways you dared not imagine.<br />
<i>Rachel</i>Rachel Resnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06377767453059698225noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-110130029786237306.post-22896861235245046182009-12-24T14:51:00.000-08:002010-01-07T11:36:26.034-08:00Invitation: Writers On Fire In Hawaii - Jan. 15-22 Only 2 spots left!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuEev42f2USA0NuVM8AEFxRQMzSNbssoEZNhkTYiV7FrNwu5A3wY_pBz_JU93UBi965oFqXt6XepCJCK0yOv1gf_4QQ7jKmVL6oZ6KV-qfa0OJvdxjhkLU9FfSn32MqqPUys8b1kUIeuY/s1600-h/IMG_4823.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuEev42f2USA0NuVM8AEFxRQMzSNbssoEZNhkTYiV7FrNwu5A3wY_pBz_JU93UBi965oFqXt6XepCJCK0yOv1gf_4QQ7jKmVL6oZ6KV-qfa0OJvdxjhkLU9FfSn32MqqPUys8b1kUIeuY/s320/IMG_4823.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">View from upper deck of Pipeline House</span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Dear Writers, <br />
</div>Ready for a week of creative pampering? Eager to explore new ways to express yourself and hungry to experiment with different forms of writing? Dreaming of a rejuvenating stay in a tropical beach villa in Hawaii? Now you can have it all. Pack your bags, pens, notebooks and laptops! Discover the stories inside you, kick off the new year by claiming the writer in you. And join me at the next phase of Writers On Fire -- exclusive one-week writing retreats chock-full of creative adventure. Perfect for seasoned writers or beginners alike. <br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2UDwnrAkijdtagaUtOt7oNWWEmp3h5FnWttOdSYbmVKyfmrimZc8BjFY4jLqy1XJkNJUjZXZmnYpO9aMBVyI2ePHvJrVxsMtL0ZY3Tn8TfMu_Cg3T0cqA9GlvOe1SUEcCsPW-3acM5D0/s1600-h/Pipeline+House.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2UDwnrAkijdtagaUtOt7oNWWEmp3h5FnWttOdSYbmVKyfmrimZc8BjFY4jLqy1XJkNJUjZXZmnYpO9aMBVyI2ePHvJrVxsMtL0ZY3Tn8TfMu_Cg3T0cqA9GlvOe1SUEcCsPW-3acM5D0/s320/Pipeline+House.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Pipeline House</span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">SITE OF RETREAT: Picture a relaxing, 7-night stay at the privately owned Pipeline House on the North Shore of Oahu -- a breathtaking beachside villa overlooking Sunset Beach's world famous surfwave, the Banzai Pipeline, where the World Surf Championships are held every year. Ocean views from every room. See www.pipelinehousehawaii.com for more info. Come experience this mecca for surfers and seekers alike. Be inspired by the raw force of nature, the laidback surfer style, and create breakthroughs in your writing.<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBRmaXoQBKM9vi_DqC7Ai5DQIPfxXw9b2KUyakqQUS3YhpDcPUuHJAG6R0uFSS63h4vNmidL4jS1rj5rB2D8HDYoJ4pJ2psK7XDlu8zfkzi5pUvhUh2Mk9EHOQs8IWITPKian8g8tYeA8/s1600-h/IMG_4800.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBRmaXoQBKM9vi_DqC7Ai5DQIPfxXw9b2KUyakqQUS3YhpDcPUuHJAG6R0uFSS63h4vNmidL4jS1rj5rB2D8HDYoJ4pJ2psK7XDlu8zfkzi5pUvhUh2Mk9EHOQs8IWITPKian8g8tYeA8/s200/IMG_4800.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Lisa Firestone, pictured above on lower deck of Pipeline House at sunset,</span><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">will lead daily (optional) surfing from 8-10am.</span><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">WHO IS THIS WORKSHOP FOR?This retreat is designed for all writers -- beginning to advanced -- who want to venture into new territory and create, or at least begin, new work. It is also a good opportunity for those eager to stretch or cross the boundaries of genre -- fiction writers who want to tell the truth; nonfiction writers who want to learn to lie; poets who want to try prose; prose writers curious about playwriting; screenwriters, actors and filmmakers looking to capture stories on the page; and novices primed for adventure. We especially welcome people who’re writing books as well and want to make big leaps forward with their projects, or finally get them kickstarted.<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc2seNfB_ECQGQYH56K_BMAdJJqH7WOX_KmTmMIbFGnAO-_L7yYU1Xu4wEZpHqEkkIHpQX8rT0lC4DEIEoP5H1Bk_akK3aagybaBjZJdLQvak5Vaq1QKqgHOcKcQFb3LWPlXx4TFWbmSs/s1600-h/image001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc2seNfB_ECQGQYH56K_BMAdJJqH7WOX_KmTmMIbFGnAO-_L7yYU1Xu4wEZpHqEkkIHpQX8rT0lC4DEIEoP5H1Bk_akK3aagybaBjZJdLQvak5Vaq1QKqgHOcKcQFb3LWPlXx4TFWbmSs/s320/image001.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Carolyn Reuben, previous Writers On Fire In Hawaii participant,</span></span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">reading her work w/twilit sky as backdrop</span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">SCHEDULE: Arrival on 1/15; double writing workshops on 1/16 (10:30-12:30; lunch break; free time, writing; 3:30-5:30 afternoon workshop; 6-7 cocktails; 7 dinner; evening free for writing), 1/17; 1/18 a morning session, then a free afternoon; 1/19 double workshop; 1/20 morning session and evening, public reading and celebration!); 1/21 free day!; 1/22 departure. Includes one-hour private coaching at outset of retreat to plan week, talk out goals; and one-hour private workshop to cap retreat, to create workable schedule, goals, and writers' contract.<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4YzngsnHoj2FepFUisvnDMtK5ITGqG7eqj1nb8O-E79bz5u4HcpjRrWZY2YCD3t8wN_ENtL9_ReXZWeIDup7BbJquEatU108ItnENVxkiqOtwDXdFixACPzJcYJzNvDm8t0_AWGFemyU/s1600-h/image001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4YzngsnHoj2FepFUisvnDMtK5ITGqG7eqj1nb8O-E79bz5u4HcpjRrWZY2YCD3t8wN_ENtL9_ReXZWeIDup7BbJquEatU108ItnENVxkiqOtwDXdFixACPzJcYJzNvDm8t0_AWGFemyU/s320/image001.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">One of the bedrooom work areas</span><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">COSTS: Recession-friendly low cost of $2,000 total. Airfare, which is approximately $300-$500 roundtrip from LAX to Honolulu, is not included. However, van transport from the airport to the house is provided. Continental breakfast from 6am – 10am, along with a light lunch and snacks, are also included, as well as the 7-night, 6-day stay. Includes 5-day intensive workshop plus one free day in this luxe and legendary hotspot.<br />
</div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn7ntOGEwMTsPtLixw6uaYbqQNieAR9py4jZEBdLeeDPIyf9Vej41X9Gvxrm_hIf5qTwatlyXtWytLIzPHrAJTXez88SVuDtuKAx_L5VnrUQZaqrXuWfO0QjgepZeKSihPfH-qJV3uudc/s1600-h/image001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn7ntOGEwMTsPtLixw6uaYbqQNieAR9py4jZEBdLeeDPIyf9Vej41X9Gvxrm_hIf5qTwatlyXtWytLIzPHrAJTXez88SVuDtuKAx_L5VnrUQZaqrXuWfO0QjgepZeKSihPfH-qJV3uudc/s320/image001.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Picturesque Shark's Cove, a short walk or bike ride up path</span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">from Pipeline House near popular Brazilian acai stand</span><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> NUMBER OF PARTICIPANTS: There are currently only three spots left for this amazing retreat -- secure your spot now! For more info, including a sample schedule, please e-mail at info@writersonfire.com. Also, check out our freshly revamped and launched www.writersonfire.com site executed by the dynamic duo, J Square PR. Comments welcome. Keep checking back -- many many new retreats, workshops and more to come. <br />
</div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: left;"><i>Aloha!</i><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: left;"><i>Rachel</i><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRHT5NXK9xAod79Seh7m-IFMi1xHQLKpPoTcOLUd0eGlbFfS6-qiD9LmeqYreJtMIR9lwtpc3Yy4vCWfQG-QJhO9w16nU5nFYINdlqiWx3BndXhi1Lg2H5Qz4Uf71UsBwpCN76Htkp-Yc/s1600-h/WOF_LOGO.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRHT5NXK9xAod79Seh7m-IFMi1xHQLKpPoTcOLUd0eGlbFfS6-qiD9LmeqYreJtMIR9lwtpc3Yy4vCWfQG-QJhO9w16nU5nFYINdlqiWx3BndXhi1Lg2H5Qz4Uf71UsBwpCN76Htkp-Yc/s320/WOF_LOGO.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Rachel Resnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06377767453059698225noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-110130029786237306.post-1033049206628487342009-12-01T12:23:00.000-08:002009-12-02T14:34:51.390-08:00Coast Starlight Train Trip: Birth of Starlight Salon? Retreat on Rails?!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXLSZr-xsNsjW52oblWSQpe_VBokTDs3EyH9Fp1-julLfnsC7ZYEINnZ29SAazy5EUzEenwUQcreKWStIdDX66OeYeI-mtaw1MK_4zXhFU2K9T4m38Lca0ameA_6zzk85yYXjDyOH8Y10/s1600/IMG_5096.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXLSZr-xsNsjW52oblWSQpe_VBokTDs3EyH9Fp1-julLfnsC7ZYEINnZ29SAazy5EUzEenwUQcreKWStIdDX66OeYeI-mtaw1MK_4zXhFU2K9T4m38Lca0ameA_6zzk85yYXjDyOH8Y10/s320/IMG_5096.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Isn't this wild? Looks like the train is glowing! After flying up to Sacramento to drive out to Cool, California, in the heart of the Gold Country, to participate in some northern Cali book events for <i>Love Junkie </i>and to visit my close friend, the stunning writer and fiery-haired Samantha Dunn, I boarded the Coast Starlight back to Los Angeles. I couldn't wait. I hadn't had the chance to take the train for ages. And this was a scenic, leisurely ride down the spectacular California coast in a retro pleasure train. I don't know about you, but I romanticize trains. I'm an avid traveler, and trains are one of my favorite forms of transportation -- transportation of the spirit as well as the body.<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">However, I was clueless. I booked coach because I was only riding the rails from 6:35AM to 9PM when we would pull into the gorgeously renovated Union Station. Mistake. For the first four hours or so of the trip, I was on a crazy hunt for an outlet so I could work. Amtrak had promised me outlets and Wi-Fi, but neither was to be had. Luckily I had my iPhone. For outlets, I finally found one in the Arcade Room in the bowels of the train. There I sat, juicing my Mac laptop, while hyperactive kids and sullen teens slammed joysticks, pounded consoles, screamed. Finally I figured out there was a cafe car -- also in what felt like the bowels of the train. Okay, entrails. I settled in, staking my claim on the one outlet as if I'd discovered a vein of gold. I didn't move from the blue vinyl booth for the next three hours. Until I heard the announcement about a Wine Tasting event in the parlour car. Whut?<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Without another thought, I packed up my laptop, books and notes and high-tailed it to the upper part of the train, shimmied my way through the swaying cars and entered -- Paradise. Now this was what I'd imagined when I booked the Coast Starlight. I walked into a stylish livingroom on rails, with breathtaking scenery whizzing by outside. I bought my Wine Tasting ticket, settled into a comfy swiveling armchair with its own wall outlet, and vowed not to move. It was as if I'd risen through the socio-economic ranks of the world in a matter of hours -- from the video game room and claustrophobed cafe hell of coach, to the lofty upper deck, and first class travel. I'd made it!<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Then the Wine Tasting commenced.<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-CJLUnFf63qg2pBiUkpO5INiS98BafcUUyeU5s-P0QDZL5QIJBCm7D00hGH0xht4A3h4A8NfVnkg-8QJBdXQglUIh8bmSh2rnzYgZMDYHYn2OJOI6OsV_2aMDQv5Nvhude0RnL1EDSY8/s1600/IMG_5105.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-CJLUnFf63qg2pBiUkpO5INiS98BafcUUyeU5s-P0QDZL5QIJBCm7D00hGH0xht4A3h4A8NfVnkg-8QJBdXQglUIh8bmSh2rnzYgZMDYHYn2OJOI6OsV_2aMDQv5Nvhude0RnL1EDSY8/s320/IMG_5105.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Bliss! Before long, I'd worked my way through Taz Pinot Gris 2006 out of Santa Barbara, Estancia Pinot Noir 2006 out of Pinnacles Ranches in Monterey County, Greg Norman Petite Sirah 2005 out of Paso Robles (my favorite!), and Jekel Riesling 2006, also out of Monterey County. I also nibbled on Purple Moon cheese (mouth-watering) and crackers. All California wines. I can recount these details because I consulted the retro menu, whose graphics induced a delicious "Mad Men" moment.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZtY2Bmt2p40tBOBBah1fBehDfADTSOvjf-35zlCATm41Qk2GxCcl1hFYMjWDPUQ1XhD_4R3JZJNI7KbBiJ8uCpMV7p8C9ElInrZUEte3-a3X2QE_YvuZ6btZO7_kQChqzS4wvaRKnrYY/s1600-h/Starlight+Wine+.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZtY2Bmt2p40tBOBBah1fBehDfADTSOvjf-35zlCATm41Qk2GxCcl1hFYMjWDPUQ1XhD_4R3JZJNI7KbBiJ8uCpMV7p8C9ElInrZUEte3-a3X2QE_YvuZ6btZO7_kQChqzS4wvaRKnrYY/s320/Starlight+Wine+.jpg" /></a><br />
</div>My chosen state was doing me proud, and the wine was working its veritas wonders. Now the scenery was looking really good. <br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDXy2fbZlIR7GzASKluw-qyTutHiknkjlVSl7i3Vv7gPbDXbNDewFXy5aGNnoLZD0vM6uYYfaeXs_PtqbNE8on1bR4pxXCHaWl46qnlaDaInKxkZIPH4Z6WLlJ4nu8rePKd88vNm0uyeI/s1600/IMG_5111.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDXy2fbZlIR7GzASKluw-qyTutHiknkjlVSl7i3Vv7gPbDXbNDewFXy5aGNnoLZD0vM6uYYfaeXs_PtqbNE8on1bR4pxXCHaWl46qnlaDaInKxkZIPH4Z6WLlJ4nu8rePKd88vNm0uyeI/s320/IMG_5111.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I don't know about you, but one reason I love writing is because you can do it anywhere. On a plane, in a foreign land, in a cafe, in a diner, at a truck stop. On a train. Wait. What about readings on a train? Next to me, an elegant man concentrated on a crossword. A sophisticated grandma sat reading <i>My Life In France</i> by Julia Child while burnished hillsides streaked gold out her window.<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFMGjFiju_7k77hBBJsIZxcZzu0IMaIDaUu4tcoPfWvEXVrsZXk5pQF2JCxrg_QSofmAHqn0-R9w5v6S0Zb9wOP2-bq7EeEye54snpHGYyLhPsAwonzjC8bZcYrJW4gKaq4IkgRWB7cd4/s1600-h/IMG_5116.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFMGjFiju_7k77hBBJsIZxcZzu0IMaIDaUu4tcoPfWvEXVrsZXk5pQF2JCxrg_QSofmAHqn0-R9w5v6S0Zb9wOP2-bq7EeEye54snpHGYyLhPsAwonzjC8bZcYrJW4gKaq4IkgRWB7cd4/s320/IMG_5116.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Another sat reading the newspaper -- the newspaper! Well if this wasn't a salon waiting to happen. A perfect audience for a reading! Then the popcorn brain commenced. I imagined a Starlight Salon. I had just spent time up north with amazing writers like Sam Dunn, Alice Anderson, Rebecca K. O'Connor. Further up the coast, along the route of this same amazing train, were Susie Bright, Cheryl Strayed, Kerry Cohen...the list went on and on. What If we were all to band together, board together, and create a moveable feast, a moving salon -- could this be the birth of the Starlight Salon?!<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Wine. Trains. Narrative In Motion. The signs were blinking madly: did I not perform at a fabulous, intimate book event one day ago at a <i>vineyard</i>! Venezio Vineyards. Right outside of Cool. Plus, I'd just gotten the great news that WHSmith's Travel had placed an enormous order of the soon-to-be-released Jan. 2010 UK mass market paperback. And where do they stock books? <i>All the major airports and train stations. </i>I picked up the dinner menu, eager to feed my dreaming.<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz3_TyRIh8H60VZ2cuUsbEZF4ckFy3J9W9bpdnkjVrcdkjyD7kGHg3R_LIwL0LmmQESjlrVd8YTayUYCaHUmhyphenhyphenBilgE9XKbSsolZq6Ke-gH-jJQQxJYdBdez183qobtUKquxVMfovm32o/s1600-h/Starlight+Menu_0001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz3_TyRIh8H60VZ2cuUsbEZF4ckFy3J9W9bpdnkjVrcdkjyD7kGHg3R_LIwL0LmmQESjlrVd8YTayUYCaHUmhyphenhyphenBilgE9XKbSsolZq6Ke-gH-jJQQxJYdBdez183qobtUKquxVMfovm32o/s320/Starlight+Menu_0001.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Because I am a recovering love junkie, I did not fantasize Don Draper entering the parlour car for dinner, then dropping wearily yet suavely into the empty swivel armchair nearby.<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="http://yuppieaddict.files.wordpress.com/2009/10/don-draper.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://yuppieaddict.files.wordpress.com/2009/10/don-draper.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Nor did I think about how his gaze might slowly turn my way, as I recrossed my legs and fluffed my ridiculous white fur scarf (see the Love Junkie blog <a href="http://www.lovejunkie-thejourney.blogspot.com/">http://www.lovejunkie-thejourney.blogspot.com</a> for pic of said scarf.) Instead, visions of a Retreat on Rails -- the parlour car packed with ardent writers scribbling and typing, sipping wine, every so often gazing out the windows as the sun splashed gold onto the passing hills -- lit my brain with arcade fire.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I would love to know if you have any memorable train rides you'd like to share. I got amazing responses from a post about itching for a road trip. How about a rail trip? Have you ever written on the train? Fallen in love on the train? Gone the wrong way on a train? Do you like those in-between places -- like train stations? Tell us a story, a memory. Funny in Rick Moody's current experimental story written for Twitter that's posting right now, he has a series of tweets that open "On the train..." Almost replicates that rhythmic chuffing with those staccato tweets. Does motion or travel stimulate your imagination? Distract? What If you were to retell a scene setting it in the confines of a train car. How would that heighten drama? Tension? What are some favorite books involving trains, train trips, or stories? What of Updike, Cheever, Patricia Highsmith? How do commuter trains differ from travel trains, and what of subways? What of the recent book, <i>Lowboy</i> by John Wray, written entirely while riding NY subways? I can't wait to hear your train tales, and anything else.<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Yours on creative fire,<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">RR<br />
</div>Rachel Resnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06377767453059698225noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-110130029786237306.post-928999581212595482009-11-23T15:10:00.000-08:002009-11-26T11:41:08.857-08:00Our First Day of Writing the Publishable Novel or Memoir ongoing workshop, Cycle #2<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbCWuFMDeuwj4NCM6cnY_ddya5xcsXfh7YIIAKWGdd86ypFVNA2zQ74GQ03b-gnGJArPij0BQ-PICXha8YV4whQK4IJzvKp5HTDTpb0Me8_DkXhkOsCiHIzpYQYZP_ggA3em0urxk6a3E/s1600/Ongoing+Workshop+Cycle+%232+-+First+Day.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbCWuFMDeuwj4NCM6cnY_ddya5xcsXfh7YIIAKWGdd86ypFVNA2zQ74GQ03b-gnGJArPij0BQ-PICXha8YV4whQK4IJzvKp5HTDTpb0Me8_DkXhkOsCiHIzpYQYZP_ggA3em0urxk6a3E/s320/Ongoing+Workshop+Cycle+%232+-+First+Day.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Here we are on the Topanga deck, preparing to get down 'n' literary. I've vacated the sun-drenched orange rattan chair to shoot the pic. <br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi5L0dRoKBqXHMo4hHxu6rOxGeqiLa6sNw8nJb555xPbHsE8u0Q6x_U0lHP8JSlkSaHt77UgP48yp4s_0r7Fe73xw161Z8r2CZRgvaN2zofog8WCtxRNRW7pjSgkMkKj0djDLbCHs9ip0/s1600/Justine+Musk+-+Cycle+%232+Workshop+First+Day.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi5L0dRoKBqXHMo4hHxu6rOxGeqiLa6sNw8nJb555xPbHsE8u0Q6x_U0lHP8JSlkSaHt77UgP48yp4s_0r7Fe73xw161Z8r2CZRgvaN2zofog8WCtxRNRW7pjSgkMkKj0djDLbCHs9ip0/s320/Justine+Musk+-+Cycle+%232+Workshop+First+Day.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"> Justine Musk wisely snags a shady papadam chair, the better to spin her suspenseful goth-urban tales of decadence, Leer jets, and mystery. <br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">We kicked things off at 10am, with a 5-minute breathing meditation, selected for our group by Diana Winston from UCLA's Mindfulness Center. As always, her mellifluous voice and easy meditation helped us all get grounded and ready for creative action. In case you want to give it a try before you start writing, here's the link: <a href="http://marc.ucla.edu/mpeg/01_Breathing_Meditation.mp3">http://marc.ucla.edu/mpeg/01_Breathing_Meditation.mp3</a><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">If you try it out, let us know here on the blog how it works for you!<br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Throughout the glorious day, punctuated by groovy food and libations, we cranked. We talked longterm workshop goals (everyone's aiming for full book drafts by springtime!); discussed the provocative prologue of our workshop text, The Secret Life Of Puppets by Victoria Nelson; workshopped everyone's first sets of 10-page submissions (everyone's insights and helpful suggestions were sharp, innovative and often spot-on); and we wrote an in-class exercise: Write a scene with two characters having an argument. While the scene unfolds, let one of those characters do a task, yet fail at that task. Then add in a third character who is either a puppet, a robot, or a cyborg. <br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">The exercise this time was inspired by a few things. On the one hand, it was an homage to the legendary Jim Krusoe, a fabulous and fabulist novelist who's taught and inspired many a writer in this our City of Angels. He often nudges his students to jazz up a boring scene by adding a third character to stir things up. Another trick he suggests is having one of those characters doing a task poorly. Then I added a spin inspired by Puppets, and suggested the third character be one of these magical creatures who're naturally invested with supernatural power in this world where the mystical religious urge has gone underground, into the Grotto -- and illuminates such figures with a displaced power.<br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">In a matter of 15 minutes, each workshop participant jammed out a stunning scene. All were vivid, and naturally paced, full of drama, humor, and distinctly stamped by the writer's own voice. Once again, the magic of the in-class on-the-spot writing.<br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">For this first post post-first class, I want to showcase one of those exercises. Here is Janet Graham:<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgJYNFVZS62t0RG6X6hm99mhA7eChnbQUQGVXnPjzGdO-tnfZLKY6Eax7xdUuZhlwUK3-bsgNdfAgcEdKGmrZDNw6fh7uDsZF_IdymFaA2BaaSy12AAZIwCnFgZaBmXxGQhaupgOcV-Bw/s1600/Janet+Graham+-+First+Day+Cycle+%232+Workshop.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgJYNFVZS62t0RG6X6hm99mhA7eChnbQUQGVXnPjzGdO-tnfZLKY6Eax7xdUuZhlwUK3-bsgNdfAgcEdKGmrZDNw6fh7uDsZF_IdymFaA2BaaSy12AAZIwCnFgZaBmXxGQhaupgOcV-Bw/s320/Janet+Graham+-+First+Day+Cycle+%232+Workshop.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And here is her rockin' exercise!<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">"The smell of horseshit was strong through the screens filled with dust and cobwebs. <br />
</div>She didn’t like the way it interfered with her view of things. The wide backed Gaucho horses grazing in the dark green pasture, the occasional ranch hand crossing the frame with hoses and rakes in hand. She makes a mental note to get them to wash the screens. <br />
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“I told you I didn’t want her to have one of those fucking things,” she says pointing to the life-sized Barbie standing in the corner with platinum blonde hair and a bridal gown on. “Throw me the tape will you?” <br />
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“I don’t know where it is,” he says looking through the mounds of wrapping paper on the bed. “You’re being ridiculous,” he adds. “It’s the one thing she wanted. She asked for it.”<br />
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“It’s disgusting!” She gets up off the floor. “It’s the one thing I didn’t want her to have.” She moves to the desk looking for the tape. <br />
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“She’s a little girl,” he says standing up. “All little girls like Barbie. What’s the big deal?”<br />
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“Where’s the fucking tape?” She throws things off the desk. <br />
<br />
“It’s bad enough that you bought her a Barbie. A life-sized Barbie! But did you have to pick one with platinum hair dressed in a wedding gown. What are we teaching her? If she’s plastic enough, she might have a chance of growing up and getting married?”<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Happy writing, everyone!<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">RR<br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div>Rachel Resnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06377767453059698225noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-110130029786237306.post-44222958439462751142009-11-19T22:55:00.001-08:002009-11-21T06:31:04.580-08:00Welcome to Writers on Fire ~ Unplugged!Welcome to the newly launched Writers on Fire blog! Get ready for sizzling stories from Writers on Fire workshops, plus tons of other writerly, travelicious treats. <br />
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Tomorrow, we kick off Cycle #2 of the ongoing Writing the Publishable Novel or Memoir workshop which gathers here at my magical Topanga Canyon hideaway. We meet from 10am to 3pm on the covered deck, which looks out over the picturesque State Park. Guaranteed, this setting works wonders on people's well-being as well as writing. The setting is boho-rustic, and helps people shut out the distractions of this fair sprawl-city of ours. In good California style, we commence the day with a short breathing meditation to help us shift into creative mode. Of course we eat great food during the intensive day, which includes in-class exercises, workshopping of each person's bi-monthly pages, plus discussion of the ongoing reading (this cycle we're immersing ourselves in The Secret Life Of Puppets, by Victorian Nelson) We cap the rigorous day with a Prosecco toast to the imagination.<br />
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On the required reading: Over the last 15 years of teaching, I've found that including a demanding text, usually non-fiction, somehow sharpens everyone's brains and leaks into the writing in the most sublime and unexpected ways. Ideally we choose a text that taps into the subconscious. That is also the idea of in-class exercises. Because almost across the board, when people unhinge their imaginations, they write better than themselves. And this experience informs their more conscious writing, too. The results are often spectacularly original and potent.<br />
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We currently have six stunningly talented writers joining us this cycle. I will post more about them in coming months, with their permission. For now, trust me there will be creative ferment aplenty on top of this bucolic hill. We plan to post more info about these writers, showcase their work generated during the workshop, and additionally link to their sites and blogs. Perhaps some of them will be inspired to create blogs during the workshop if they don't already have them!<br />
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There will be lots more to come in future posts, including invitations to upcoming retreats in other locations -- both here in the United States and abroad -- info about private writing coaching services, international coaching available through Skype, travel & writing exercises and tips, and much much more.<br />
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For now, thank you for joining the Writers On Fire - Unplugged! blog. Don't hesitate to contact us and tell us what you'd like to see here.<br />
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Your creative adventure tour guide,<br />
RachelRachel Resnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06377767453059698225noreply@blogger.com1