Things that broke my heart today:
* The writer who accepted her payment from The Advocate and, crumpling the bills in her palm, whispered, “Praise Jesus”
* Strains of “Day Dream Believer” returning me to a time when the whole future opened up like a long golden tunnel
* The woman staring out the window, tears wet on her...
The introductory film at STAX is brilliant. Before they take you to STAX music, they play some Motown. A little Temptations, some other choreographed groups. You’re sitting there thinking, this is fun, bopping along to the tunes. If you’re uninitiated, you may even be thinking, okay, Black groups—I get that. Then Rufus Thomas says, “But once...
I put myself to sleep last night thinking about the worst pain I’ve ever felt.
This cogitation was triggered by popcorn. Saturday, I was making a batch, fully aware that water droplets were in the pan. You know that bit about oil and water—so true. When I threw in the popcorn, grease shot up like a hellcat coming out of a burlap sack. I jerked...
I’ve written a book with no redeeming social value whatsoever except for one: it’s funny.
I think of Trouble at Big Daddy’s Chicken Palace Emporium and Museum as my Bruce Springsteen novel. You see, I have this image of Bruce arriving at the Pearly Gates. Jesus is standing there, talking to him. Do you think Jesus is saying, “So, Bruce, what’d...
Why every time I hear them say “birth control” do I erupt like a geyser?
For decades of my life the given was that strangers could control my sexuality. Legislators. Doctors. Health insurance companies. Employers.
To be specific: male legislators—there were no females legislators back then. Male OB-Gyns, too, who would ask whether...
I thought I could write about this, but I can’t. I thought I could turn my anger into humor, make some jokes about the contraceptive choices of those men on the Oversight Committee. I thought I could ask some interesting questions.
But every time I get near this subject, it’s like barbed wire. My voice rises. I start sprinkling my...
I’ve just picked up the handouts for tomorrow’s Door of Hope writers retreat. Neatly typed up, professionally copied, they look inevitable. They aren’t.
So much could have happened to prevent the creation of these handouts. The writers might never have arrived at the point where they could sit down and write. Even when they...
Things you need to know about me:
* I still have my Christmas lights up, indoors
* I am currently in love with Pogo Possum and the tads
* One of my novels features a Mother Mary visitation, an infestation of Demonittes, and Jesus panhandling on the Union exit off Danny Thomas. Another features chickens.
* I facilitate a weekly writing group of...
Finally, I wrote an ending to my novel that makes me cry. Most of the rest of the novel makes me laugh – a phenomenon I think is so strange, that something I wrote – I know the joke, right? – can make me laugh.
But when it comes to resolution, I want to feel it reverberating in my heart, welling up in my tears, spilling over...
The Door of Hope Writing Group was founded by men and women experiencing homelessness. The Retreat began when one of the group said, “Man, this is some amazing stuff going on here. Others need to know about this.”
We named the retreat the Community Retreat because we were inviting others to come write in community with us, which...