Blog Resolution

Today is Martin Luther King Day, and I'm back to blogging. My writing impulse has been subverted during the past year by writing workshops. I took several "Life Stories" writing classes from the energetic Minter Krotzer, wife of the hilarious and talented poet Hal Sirowitz.

The women who were in my first workshops last spring and summer (or was it the summer before last?) were so wonderful. We formed our own writing group that is still going on. Oh, how I've missed being part of a community of writers. I generally hate writing itself but love hanging out with writers and talking about writing. I like to absorb artistic sweat and breath by rubbing shoulders with literary folk.

I had such a wonderful writing group when I lived in Eugene, Oregon. It was one of those Camelot-like communities that will never be again. Our success was mostly due to our "leader", Kathleen Holt. Kathleen would never have referred to herself our leader, but everyone in the group knew that it was she who made the group possible. She gently shepherded us away from gossiping our time away and molded us into a productive workforce. The group spawned two wonderful books, by Debra Gwartney and Guy Maynard, and a whole lot of mutual cheer leading and interesting work. It didn't hurt that the group included brilliant people along with gifted professional writers.

So with the birth of my new writing group, Philly Scribes, it feels like going home again. This group is less professional writerly than the Oregon group, more touchy-feely and straight-up supportive. We're all women, you see. But damn, I'm excited about the work we've been creating. It feels so good to meet and watch half-remembered tales become elegant life stories. We are turning the ugly ducklings from our live into beautiful swans.

However, for me, the result of my year or so of trying to get back into "real" writing has resulted in a disillusion with it. I think I took one workshop too many. I spent too much time stretching and massaging my little vignettes about motherhood and my life into something shapeless. It was like taking a little knitted booty and trying to make a sweater out of it.

My writing, I realize is suited for the blog. It's quick, cheap, and pithy. By quick, I mean that I don't have time to agonize over every word and sentence. By cheap, I mean that no one wants to pay for it. By pithy, I mean that if I am not intimidated by having to write polished essays and query letters, I can just churn shit out. And once in a while when you actually write -- rather than just thinking about writing -- something emerges that brings a sort of truth to writer and reader alike ... hopefully.