Category Archives: writing

Books by and for Women Are for Men, Too

15 Tuesday Jan 2013

Posted by in books, friendship, health, inspiration, mid-life transition, work, writing

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For the past few weeks, I have been up to my ears in women’s voices. It all started when I was asked to review Nothing but the Truth So Help Me God: 51 Women Reveal the Power of Positive Female Connection, a yellow and black-covered book filled with essays, poems, and artwork tackling a wide range women’s experiences: from self-love to friendship; modern motherhood to Mother Earth; from “finding yourself” to challenges of race and culture; and from overcoming obstacles to making mischief. The book provided this reader with several moments of recognition, a few Aha’s, and some eye-opening stories.

TruthCoverIn my review, published by Women’s Voices for Change, I compare Nothing but the Truth to that mother of all books by and for women, Our Bodies Ourselves.

It’s true, no one “gets” us the way other women do. I learned this lesson while in college, when I first opened Our Bodies Ourselves, turned to the section on birth control, and suddenly—when it came to concerns about my body—I was no longer alone.

Then, I was invited to participate with 16 other women in Women Entrepreneurs, Service, Connection, Community, an ebook in which we share our stories, wisdom, and perspective on the themes of service, connection and community.

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While I don’t consider myself an entrepreneur, at least not yet, I am incredibly honored to be traveling with this pack of smart, savvy women.

You can download your own copy right here.

As my friend and colleague, Erica Holthausen, says in her introduction,

…  something  powerful happens  when  independent  people come together to support  and  encourage  one  another, especially  if  those  people are  all  women. Suddenly that fierce  independence is broken wide open to reveal  something softer, more vulnerable and very real.  Fierce independence is replaced by service,  connection and community.

Her introduction echoes the one by A Band of Wives founder, Christine Bronstein in Nothing but the Truth,

We know that women change each other’s lives just by being there for one another, and sharing these stories allows us to be more courageous, more authentic, and more loving to ourselves and others.

Both statements are true, yet there is something in each of these books for men, too. In fact, if I could go back in time to when my sons were still boys, I’d leave my battered copy of Our Bodies Ourselves out on the coffee table for their perusal. Why shouldn’t men get the inside scoop on sex, female orgasm, birth control, and pregnancy from a group of women?

And why not share our interior lives and connection to each other by having them read books like Nothing but the Truth? Or show them how women approach work and building a business? All three of these books contain lessons for everyone.

Women may hold up half the sky, but we rarely get even half a voice — no wonder books by and for women resonate so strongly with us. But if we share books like these with the men in our lives, perhaps their ears will become more attuned to what we have to say. Maybe then, even when powerful leaders don’t look like us, they’ll be more likely to at least sound like us. 

January Resolve

06 Sunday Jan 2013

Posted by in aging, art, inspiration, meditation, mid-life transition, writing

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Birches

January is when we realize that the bills, the deadlines, and other unpleasantness we put aside for the holidays are still waiting. They didn’t disappear when we turned the last page of our 2012 calendars and entered the new year.

The color palette outside makes me realize that as much as I admire those clean-looking, all white interiors in design books, I could never, ever live in one. Even a pink-ish sky at sunset looks cold and lonely.

Cold Pink

There’s nothing like January, with its anemic sky, dirty snow, and “clean slate” reputation to make you take stock and focus. In fact, focus is one of my key words for 2013. I’ve never been one to write down New Year’s resolutions, so this is a first.

It’s time to rein in my dilettante tendencies, stop dabbling, stay off the internet, avoid the TV, and write more, read more, listen to more music, and do all of it with the intensity I had as a girl. Back then, my mom amused herself by saying nonsensical things to me while I was reading, just to see how long it would take to pull me back from wherever the book had sent me. In fact, it took several minutes before her voice would penetrate my fictional world and I’d look up, blinking as though awakening from a deep sleep.

These days, my eyes are on the book, but my brain is elsewhere — worrying about friends, thinking about the laundry, or anxiously tallying the balance in our bank account.

Gone too are the days when I would lie on my bed for hours listening to music, so fully caught up in its emotion that the world outside my bedroom walls ceased to exist.

Sometimes, often, writing pulls me into the “zone” where I am so engaged with the words that I forget about time, that loaf of bread I’d meant to start, or my loved one’s need for civilized conversation.

I want to transfer that intensity into other domains: to do more, feel more, know more. But I can’t do any of that without fully committing to the task at hand.

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There are other words on my 2013 list as well, but first I’m going to concentrate on focus. The white days of January seem like a good time to start.

What about you? What are your words for 2013?

Stitches of Gratitude

28 Wednesday Nov 2012

Posted by in friendship, inspiration, meditation, writing

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This fall Paul and I have gone on a crime-watching spree. We’ve been turning on the TV, and taking in episode after episode, season after season of detective shows.

We began in pre-World War II England with Foyle’s War, traveled to Sweden for the Wallander series, and are now back in the U.K. following Helen Mirren in Prime Suspect.

Like Madame Dufarge in Charles Dickens’ Tale of Two Cities, I have been sitting in my chair, quietly knitting, whilst bedlam breaks out before my eyes. I’m not as clever as Madame Dufarge, I can’t knit names into my work.

But like her I am keeping a list. Names of people I’ve had the luck and pleasure to connect with during this past year. People who, in this online world, have been both supportive and inspiring.

And so, stitch by stitch, I’ve been knitting my gratitude into a series of hats.

One recipient likened my stitches to a row of brussel sprouts.

Knitting is one of the few places in life where I have even a ghost of a chance at mimicking nature’s perfection.

My original concept for this post was a question: Why can’t writing, or even life be more like knitting? I’ve since realized that I don’t want either of those things to be as straightforward as knitting.

I want both my writing and my life to include the unexpected, the good, and the bad. Those detective shows on TV would be pretty boring without the false leads, wild goose chases, and surprise endings. Writing and life would be pretty boring too if I always arrived on time, and at the expected destination.

In fact, those hats might be getting a bit too straightforward. So for my next project, I’m thinking … SOCKS!

Socks knitted by Ronnie Citron-Fink, photo by Jen Kialba.

We Are the Good Guys

14 Wednesday Nov 2012

Posted by in environment, politics, writing

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A couple of summers ago, my sons encouraged me to read Cormac McCarthy’s The Road, a novel about a father and son fighting for survival as they traverse a cold, sunless, ash-covered landscape. What touched me most about the book was the way the father tried to explain, even normalize, this post-apocalyptic world for his son.

In this fictional world, other people pose a threat. They may help you, but they are more likely to kill you. The father helped his son understand this dangerous world by dividing it into good guys and bad guys.

“This is what the good guys do,” he told his son. “They keep trying. They don’t give up.”

Amid the devastation left by Hurricane Sandy, I imagine parents up and down the Eastern Seaboard are doing the same for their children. They have to put a hopeful spin on their new reality and project an optimistic future.

Fortunately, in today’s post-Sandy, nonfiction catastrophe, most people are “the good guys.” Together, they are helping each other navigate their devastated lives.

I’ve watched this video taken in Rockaway Queens over and over again.

I can’t get the images out of my head: streets buried in sand, cars scattered into piles like pick-up sticks. “It’s like a scene from some end-of-the-world movie,” says the film’s narrator. It has been weeks since Sandy raged through this neighborhood, and many people are still without power, heat, or hot water.

This is where we are. We can’t go back. We can only move forward. But the fork in the road that will take us toward McCarthy’s dystopian future is ever closer.

These superstorms are the new normal. And while it will take decades to bring our planet back from the brink, actions we take now can slow and maybe even halt climate change tomorrow.

We have to be like the good guys in McCarthy’s book, who keep trying  and don’t give up.

Fighting for a clean and safe environment is like every other battle we’ve undertaken.  We haven’t made progress in attaining civil rights, equality for women, or gay rights by asking politely. We demand those rights, loudly, consistently — because we are entitled to them.

We must do no less in our fight to stop climate change. Not only are we and future generations entitled to a clean and healthy environment, our lives, and theirs, depend on it.

A slightly different version of this post appeared on Moms Clean Air Force. Click here to act now and join the good guys.

This Zine Is the Real Thing

07 Wednesday Nov 2012

Posted by in aging, art, friendship, inspiration, writing

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“Age” © Elizabeth Cohen

Sometime during the summer of 2009, I received an email from my friend, Martha Nichols, inviting me to participate in a literary blog she was starting called “Talking Writing.” A seasoned writer and editor, Martha sent the email to several of her writing colleagues asking them to participate in and comment on her new endeavor.

A year later, in the fall of 2010, Martha and the equally experienced, Elizabeth Langosy, with some help from me, launched Talking Writing: A Magazine for Writers. Since that time, I have had the great luck and pleasure to be a part of this groundbreaking endeavor.

Working long hours, Martha and Elizabeth have poured their brilliance and passion into creating a fully formed magazine that is beautiful to look at and loaded with thoughtful and unique voices and perspectives. If you haven’t read it, you should.

In fact, I’d encourage all of my blogging friends to think about pitching a piece or two. TW can’t offer you money — what literary magazine can? — but  you will have the satisfaction of working with its talented team of editors, and your byline will appear in the pages of a zine that receives close to 9000 hits per month.

While I enjoy the freedom of writing unedited on my own blog, it also feels good to put myself in the hands of these capable and talented women. They help their writers develop their pieces in the most supportive way possible. Martha and Elizabeth are great teachers and they always make my work better.

So I was flattered when they asked to republish a post from my blog. Martha assured me that it just required a “few, minor edits.” And while she was true to her word, those edits helped turn a blog post into a publishable piece.

“Porcelain Bones,” appeared here last March as “Inside a Potter’s Studio, a Daughter Finds Answers.” I hope you will give the edited version a read. While you are there, check out the rest of TW’s November/December issue — and if you haven’t already, take a few extra seconds to subscribe.

Women Who Dare

10 Wednesday Oct 2012

Posted by in health, pets, politics, work, writing

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What is courage?

According to Merriam Webster’s Collegiate Dictionary, Tenth Edition, it is “mental or moral strength to venture, persevere, and withstand danger, fear, or difficulty.” Courage, in other words, is volunteering to venture outside of your personal safety zone and stay there, come what may.

In her TED talk exploring human connection, researcher and storyteller Brené Brown reminds us that the word courage is rooted in cuer or heart, and the original definition is “…. the willingness to tell the story of who you are with your whole heart.” It’s the willingness, she says,  “… to be imperfect.”

According to Brown, that kind of courage allows us to make human connections, because connection requires authenticity. She found that the people she studied who felt a strong sense of love and belonging, “… were willing to let go of who they thought they should be, in order to be who they were.”

Courage has been on my mind these past weeks. I first started thinking about it while preparing to review The Good Girls Revolt: How the Women of Newsweek Sued Their Bosses and Changed the Workplace by Lynn Povich.

Povich provides a candid, step-by-step account of how in 1970, she and 45 other women working at Newsweek had the courage to be who they were, rather than who they thought they should be. These women shed their “good girl” upbringing, spoke up, defied the boss, and charged the magazine with discrimination in hiring and promotion.

The book reminds us that there is no such thing as “post-feminist” and that backsliding is easy, while forward progress is difficult, and the battle for equality and fairness must be fought over and over again. Today’s war on women and attempts to suppress the vote are certainly evidence of that.

And because October is breast cancer awareness month, First Lady Betty Ford has also been on my mind.

Ford exhibited enormous courage when she went against the culture of the time and publicized her own breast cancer diagnosis and treatment in 1974. My mother died of the disease in 1972, too soon to benefit from Ford’s candor, but twenty years later, her honesty helped me.

Instead of the whispered conversations I overheard as a teen when my mom was diagnosed, I talked openly with my two young sons about my own diagnosis and treatment. Sure, I was afraid. Terrified, in fact, that they would experience the same devastating loss that I had. That they, too, would be forced to learn how to live without a mother.

But because Ford was willing to shine a bright light on her own journey, as unpleasant, painful, and embarrassing as that may have been, it was much easier for me to talk about my illness with others. And though I often felt isolated during that time, I never felt alone.

Another woman who is taking the power by publicly discussing her experience with cancer is 24-year-old Suleika Jaouad. I have been following Jaouad’s New York Times column, “Life Interrupted,” for several months. She wisely and eloquently conveys what it’s like to grapple with a life-threatening disease while at the very beginning of independent adulthood.

Jaouad doesn’t mince words when it comes to the tough realities she faces. If, for instance, you have any doubts about the need for universal healthcare, perhaps her column on the topic will convince you.

Although Jaouad writes about her experience as a young adult with cancer, much of what she shares will resonate with anyone who has had the disease.

For example, this photo she posted on@SuleikaJaouad, reminds me of how victorious I felt when I brought home my first puppy one year after completing nine months of breast cancer treatments.

Photo by Seamus McKiernen, used with permission.

Seeing her with her new puppy reawakened the sense of urgency I felt both during and after my treatments: I’d better get that dog, take those trips, and give that child what he needs. Now.

Just like Betty Ford, Jaouad’s willingness to share who she is and what she is going through will connect her with and make a difference to those who read her words for decades to come.

Povich et al., Ford, and Jaouad, all exhibit Merriam Webster’s definition of courage — they all were willing to step out of their personal safety zones and stay there. As a result, they all have helped make the world a fairer and more accepting place.

But by also fulfilling the original definition of courage —the willingness to be imperfect, to tell their story with their whole heart — they connect with the rest of us in a deeper, more meaningful way. By opening the door so we can see ourselves in their struggles, they invite us to care and to join them. It’s a kind of courage that we can all aim for.

According to Brown, those who feel worthy of connection are not afraid to show their fullest, truest selves because they believe that what makes us vulnerable, makes us beautiful.

It makes us powerful, too.

Yes. I Was Rude.

03 Wednesday Oct 2012

Posted by in environment, inspiration, work, writing

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You’re expecting a “but” here aren’t you? There are no buts about it. It wasn’t intentional, and I didn’t mean it, but yes, I was rude: To a customer.

There I was, head down, lost in thought, and elbow deep in cashmere as I processed a delivery. Two women walked into the store. I think I greeted them….. maybe not.

Then, out of the blue, one of them made a seemingly innocuous statement, “I thought you no longer sold bottled water in Concord.” *

“Huh?” I thought to myself, “we sell cashmere, not water.” But then, instead of making me purr, the way cashmere usually does, this popped out: “What’s your point?”

Oops. This is something I might say in jest to my husband when he drops the occasional non sequitur. But somehow, in that moment and context, I didn’t add my usual lilt of amusement. Even if I had, it still would have sounded wrong.

The polite response would have been something like, “Why do you ask?”  But before I could apologize she left the store in a huff, muttering loudly about “rude shopkeepers.”

These porcelain berries are the closest thing I have to an olive branch.

I don’t know why this happened. I do know I had been feeling rather discouraged that day.

Perhaps it was the residual sliminess I felt from watching Scott Brown’s sleazy debate performance the night before.

Speaking of two-faced conservatives, did the woman’s shrill-ish voice conger up memories of a former landlady — the one who made a point of telling me how much she liked Jews?

Or maybe it was the fact that I was doing better with the cashmere, than I was with my blog. I was starting to feel as though I had nothing new to say.

Bingo.

So, in addition to apologizing to the customer, I guess I should thank her for sparking a post. That is, if she ever sets foot in  my “shop” again.

While I’m waiting for that day, tell me, have you ever inadvertently let loose a snail on an unsuspecting victim? If so, please confess. It will help me feel like less of a jerk.

*The town of Concord, Mass. has banned the sale of less than 1 liter bottles of water, which goes into effect next year. You can read more about the reasons behind the ban here. 

Fall Forward

12 Wednesday Sep 2012

Posted by in adult children, aging, environment, inspiration, mid-life transition, writing

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There’s a definite chill in the air. Last night I layered two wool blankets on top of the summer one. Before long I’ll have to pull out the down comforter. Outside, the garden is making its yearly journey from the sunny yellows of mid-to-late summer, to the richer, more textural pinks, reds, and purples of my fall bloomers.

As the garden makes its turn into fall, and we pile on the blankets, it’s easy to wax nostalgic about the days when there were four of us rushing out the door each weekday morning. But I’m resisting that temptation.

Instead, I’m focusing on what I will make happen — as opposed to what might happen — next.

It’s been two years since I lost my job, and during that time, I have created a framework on which to build my days.  Daily walks with the dog, thrice weekly swims, and Tuesday and Thursday afternoons working at a local store, provide the bones for my week. In between each of those activities I work on my blog and other writing assignments.

The transition from the formal structure and demands of full-time employment and parenthood that I’ve clung to for most of my adult life, to the looser requirements of freelance work and empty-nest living, feels like a chasm that I will continue to cross for some time to come.

I don’t know if I will ever feel I have “landed” again. In fact, it’s possible that I’ve never felt that way. Not really. What I do know is that my current writing assignments, both paid and unpaid, feel more authentic, are more satisfying, and bring me more joy than anything I’ve done in the past. And, much to my surprise, this new work and lifestyle have brought me friends and supporters from some unlikely and even far-flung places.

Although I’m still working on how to turn this more joyful work into a decent income, I am grateful that I no longer have to fake excitement or passion when I don’t feel it. I can say what I mean and mean what I say. The ability to just be myself has been one of the most rewarding aspects of my ongoing transition.

This fall, I’m putting on some new shoes, and adding to my my already existing framework. My new DIY structure will continue to evolve. It may never be fully finished, but it will be strong enough and flexible enough to feed my brain and nourish my psyche. With luck and hard work, it might just sustain me through the ever-changing, always surprising, journey ahead.

Why I Buy Organic Food

05 Wednesday Sep 2012

Posted by in environment, health, inspiration, writing

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Every spring we wait in breathless anticipation for our local organic farm to open. In late May, the bounty starts to roll in, beginning with lettuce, arugula, and spinach.

By late June we start to see strawberries, and as the season progresses, the shelves become more and more crowded with gorgeous, local produce.

Meet Liza Bemis, my local organic farmer.

Now that it’s September, watermelons are on the wane, tomatoes are still in full swing, potatoes are coming in, and squash is beginning to fill up the bins outside.

There is nothing more tasty than a roasted potato that was pulled out of the ground that very morning.

I love my local organic farm.

So when I saw “Organic Food Benefits Doubted,” trumpeted in the index on the front page of yesterday’s New York Times, my blood began to boil. The article, prominently placed in the front section under National News, did nothing to calm my ire, “Stanford Scientists Cast Doubt on Advantages of Organic Meat and Produce.” 

Both headlines were deceptive. The study found that organic meat and produce are no more nutritious than conventionally grown meat and produce. But that’s not why I buy organic food.

I buy organic food because it isn’t grown with pesticides or injected with hormones. And because organic farmers don’t use pesticides and other chemicals, they aren’t harming the environment. According to Liza, that’s the reason organic farmers do what they do.

They love growing healthy food, and they respect where it comes from.

A Blog of One’s Own

22 Wednesday Aug 2012

Posted by in friendship, inspiration, writing

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Whenever I think about connections between women, I remember coming home from school to find my mother drinking coffee at our kitchen table with her friend Rolande. From my first-floor bedroom, I’d hear the low murmur of Rolande’s French-accented English, punctuated by my mom’s musical laugh.

These days we can connect with other women all over the world via email, instant messaging, video chats, and by commenting on each other’s blog posts. Women we’ve never met face to face have become our friends, colleagues, mentors, and students. We talk, argue, and commiserate as we share stories, opinions, successes, and heartbreaks. Yet we still value, and even crave, that old-fashioned face time.

A few weeks ago, in New York City, BlogHer held its eighth annual conference, and those sessions felt like my mom and Rolande’s kitchen-table conversations—on steroids. BlogHer is a community and media company created in partnership with women in social media “to create opportunities for women who blog to pursue exposure, education, community and economic empowerment.”

Both genders are welcome at the conferences, but most of us at BlogHer ’12—more than 5,000 of us—were women. We were gathered there “to talk about everything from pop culture to parenting to politics,” said BlogHer co-founder Lisa Stone in her opening address.

Indeed, among the bloggers that I met during a “speed-dating” session were a dominatrix with an IVF baby; a mommy blogger; and a woman who teaches sign language to help new moms communicate with their babies.

Why do all these different women blog, and what do they have to say? 

I started my own blog because, after decades of writing for other people’s publications, I needed something of my own—a place where I could express my own thoughts and opinions in my own voice, and even (gasp) have a bit of fun. 

The blog has offered me a chance to reflect out loud about the everyday stuff of an almost 30-year marriage, an empty nest, and tie my concerns about climate change to what’s happening in my own backyard.

Casey Carey-Brown, the mommy blogger I mentioned, describes her experience at the conference  and why she blogs this way:

“I found myself surrounded by thoughtful, vulnerable, honest writers and heard over and over how they are in this because they have to be. Because they love it. For the life that it brings. The life of reflection. Of higher standards for yourself. The struggle and joy of being able to work at your craft and always get better. Always be better.”

Other women I met blog for more concrete, practical reasons. Lori Alper, of Groovy Green Livin told me in an email that she blogs because it “allows for a learning and connecting with an ever-growing  fabulous community of  like-minded men and women.”

Lori began blogging on the heels of another career. A former lawyer, she started her blog because two of her children were born with life-threatening food allergies.

“After spending a great deal of time educating myself on non-toxic living, my family began experiencing first-hand the benefits of living an organic, non- toxic lifestyle.  I knew I needed a larger forum to learn and share. I decided to trade in my attorney suit and follow my passion—and Groovy Green Livin was born as a way to educate myself and others on how to live as naturally and toxin-free as possible.”

Meeting women like Lori, whom I’ve gotten to know online through our mutual work for Moms Clean Air Force, was among my main motivations for attending the conference. I also met and hung out with several other bloggers and staff from Moms Clean Air Force—one of whom, I learned, is a fan of this blog!

I also shared a drink with two women whose blog I had begun to follow only recently: Carrie Tuhy and Mary Lou Floyd from Second Lives Club. These accomplished women post essays about women who are embarking on dramatically different lives than those they lived when they were younger.

Making eye and voice contact, and engaging in a lively back and forth with such vibrant, intelligent women has inspired me to dig deeper, focus on what feels authentic, and to be both fearless and passionate when expressing my opinions and ideas.

The conference sessions provided valuable takeaways and motivation for moving forward. 

I attended BlogHer sessions on writing; on forming and using online organizations to make change; and how to price and value your services.

Two themes that came through in almost every session I attended were:

  • Women have a powerful voice. President Obama’s willingness to open the conference via video is proof positive that what we say and how we vote really does matter. (Mitt Romney, who was also invited, was unable to participate.)
  • Bloggers and writers want—and expect—to be valued and paid for their work. This ambition came through loud and clear in almost every session I attended. The writing sessions addressed issues such as transforming blog posts into printable essays (most print publications pay their writers) and how to approach editors at paying sites, such as Women’s Day.

There were also keynote sessions featuring Martha Stewart and Katie Couric, and a panel with Soledad O’Brien, Christy Turlington Burns, and Malaak Compton-Rock. For a terrific synopsis and a “shoes-eye” view of those sessions, I suggest you read this post by my friend and fellow blogger Ronnie Citron-Fink.

The formal sessions. coupled with many small conversations, helped me clarify my goals. I realized that while my own blog allows me to feed my more creative side and speak my mind, I also want to be part of something bigger than myself. I left the conference even more determined to continue and expand my work for clean air and children’s health.

And while the conversations I had with others at the conference weren’t as personal as the ones between my mom and Rolande those many years ago, the support and friendship I felt as I pushed back my chair and left BlogHer’s enormous kitchen table was every bit as real.

This post was originally published by Women’s Voices for Change.