WordSisters

Category: Writing

  • 5 Things I’ve Learned About Writing Blogs (Reflections at the One-year Anniversary of WordSisters)

    May 31st marks the one-year anniversary of WordSisters. Yippee! We’re still going strong. All two of us. 

    MP900341653Here are some discoveries I’ve made –

    1. Total strangers follow WordSisters. This still amazes and delights me. I figured 20 or so of our friends and family members might read the blog out of curiosity and loyalty. But we now have dozens of followers, many of whom came to us through the magic of the Interwebs and social media. How cool is that?!? Thanks for reading!
    2. Writing a blog is good discipline. Every other week when it’s my turn to blog, I have to write something. Sometimes I’m excited about it. Sometimes I’m lukewarm. But either way, I’m committed to doing this (and I can’t let Beth down), so I write. That’s a lot of blank screens. That’s a lot of words, thoughts, and stories. That’s 26 times per year that I have shared something I hoped would make you smile or think. Your comments and Likes tell us we’re succeeding.
    3. Writing a blog is different from writing a personal essay (beyond the obvious differences such as links, tags, and visuals). With the personal essays I hope to publish, I may revise 8-10 times during the course of a year or two as I refine what I’m trying to say. I think hard about meaning and style. But with blog posts, which are often meant to be timely reactions to current events, I don’t have the luxury of being so meticulous. I write more quickly and hope to get down the essence of what I want to say. I have to accept that good enough is good enough. As a former writing teacher who now writes for a living, it’s hard to let go of perfectionism. But I’ve learned that if I’m not completely satisfied with a post, well, better luck next time!
    4. I love the power of self-publishing! I love that if we think a topic or piece is worthy of your attention, we can simply put it out there.
    5. By blogging regularly, I’m creating a body of work. I hadn’t thought of this, but blogger Dan Blank had, and he wrote a guest post on Jane Friedman’s website about publishing. I think he’s right. Our blog style and content is still evolving, but looking back I can see how we each have distinctive voices and certain themes recur.

    Going forward, we hope to invite other writers to post on WordSisters and we want to make it easier to find past posts.

    Thanks for coming along for the ride!Beautiful Fireworks

  • What’s In A Name?

    di Grazia      I am finding out it’s a lot.

    Recently, picking up Antonio and Crystel at a community education event, I was told, “I asked Antonio if he was Italian with a name like di Grazia.”

    Standing next to me, Antonio says to the adult coordinator for at least the second time that day, “No, it’s Spanish.”

    I didn’t say anything. But yes, she’s right kid. It’s Italian.

    DSCN0725Jody, Antonio, Crystel, and I don’t have a drop of Italian blood in us.

    At the time, Jody and I were choosing a family name, I was just thinking how pretty di Grazia looked and sounded. It seemed fancier than de Grazia. It seemed more different. It seemed like ‘us’.

    I wasn’t thinking of the ramifications the name di Grazia would have for our family, the inquiries we would face. Even now, I am asked from time to time if I’m Italian.

    No, and I don’t much like pasta, either.

    OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAdi Grazia means “of Grace.” Jody and I were creating a family from grace. We didn’t have this family yet. We didn’t even know how this family was going to come together. Had we known we were going to adopt two infants from Guatemala we might have chosen the more typical Spanish spelling, de Grazia.

    But, probably not. We had already decided that we liked di Grazia.

    When I first realized that the last name di Grazia posed a hurdle was when Crystel was three years old, eye to eye with a goat. And, I seriously wondered if she could overcome the hurdle.

    DSCN0210We were camping at a campground that had, amongst other things, a petting zoo, pool, and horses.

    After visiting the petting zoo, Jody and I took separate routes back to our campsite. When we got there I looked at her and she looked at me.

    “Where’s Crystel?”

    “I thought she was with you.”

    “I thought she had gone with you and Antonio in the car.”

    OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERABoth of us jumped into our vehicle, headed back to where we last saw her. The only thing I could think of was that Crystel could not talk. Her speech was not intelligible. The person who most understood her was Antonio and he was with us. She could tell no one her first name, her last name, or who her parents were.

    When you have an articulation disorder, Crystel di Grazia, is not a good name to have. Now if she had my name before I changed it … Ann Smith … she could have spit that out – nothing to trip over there.

    Fortunately, she was right where we last saw her, staring at a goat. Somehow, she knew, to stay right where she was and not move when her family was lost.

    The next time that I was aware that our last name posed a problem was when Antonio was four years old and he was being asked in preschool to practice printing his last name. I looked at him and shook my head. First, he would have to understand that it was a small di then a space then Grazia with a large G.

    OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAWhat I was thinking was, just give it up, kid. It’s not going to happen. You’ll never learn how to say your last name much less spell it.

    Fortunately, he didn’t listen to me.

    And, if he wants di Grazia to be Spanish, then it’s Spanish. After all, it’s a created name. It’s different. And, it’s ours. We’ve grown into it.

  • Competing With Friends for Writers’ Awards

    Earlier this month, I applied for an Emerging Writer’s Grant and a Loft Creative Prose Mentorship, knowing full well that I’m competing with my good friends for these honors. I really want to win. So do the women in my creative nonfiction writers group.

    We’ve known each other for years. We’ve visited each other’s homes. We’ve cried together when one of our circle died. These women often know more know about the contents of my mind and heart than some of my family members do—they read my innermost thoughts firsthand when our group meets.

    They are insightful critics and steadfast cheerleaders. Because we share personal essays and memoir, our subject matter is always personal. Sharing our stories requires trust, and we’ve strengthened that trust over the years. The other writers don’t judge me or my life. But they do evaluate my writing craft and urge me to do my best. We all understand that the writer is different from the writing.

    Perhaps the ability to draw the distinction between the person and the craft is why we’re able to draw other distinctions and balance two seemingly conflicting ideas: we’re friends and we’re competing.

    Although there have occasionally been moments of frustration or resentment among the group members, we have been able to rise above them. For me, these aspects of our group dynamic have helped keep our competition from turning into conflict—

    • All of us are accomplished writers who deserve to win a grant or a mentorship. But we know that winning these contests is a crapshoot. Once you’ve met a certain level of competence, the next round of judging is subjective—my memoir about wrestling with feminism in 1979 might not appeal to a judge as much as my friend’s essays about traveling in Cuba. Luck plays a role.
    • Over the years, we have fostered a “one for all, all for one” mentality. When illness sapped our founder’s energy, the group mounted a submissions campaign to help her get published. When members ask the group to review their grant proposals, we give them our best advice.
    • Some of us openly state that we’re going after an award; others are more circumspect—each according to her personality. Perhaps that tact and reticence is what enables us to avoid open conflict.

    I don’t know for sure what the magic is. And I hope talking about it doesn’t wreck it. I’m proud to be a part of a group that has navigated these tricky waters successfully . . . so far.

    I want an Emerging Writer’s Grant or a Loft Mentorship. If someone else in the group wins, I’ll be sorely disappointed for myself. But I’ll be happy for her.