food for thought

I'm working on a trilogy of related columns right now, covering three documentaries about different paths to motherhood and changing attitudes toward how we become mothers. The first, Adopted, looked closely at two families who adopted daughters from China. The third column, on the documentary Sunshine, will explore one family's history of single motherhood. And the second column, on Deirdre Fishel's film, Sperm Donor X, is up now at Literary Mama. Here's an excerpt:

I must have been in second grade when I first thought about how old I would be in the year 2000 -- 32 -- and what my life would be like by then. Basing my vision entirely on my mom's life, I assumed I'd be married with four kids.

I didn't spend the intervening years fretting about the gap between that vision and my reality -- milestone birthdays came and went without a husband, and at some point I realized I didn't really want four kids -- but by the time the ball dropped in Times Square on New Year's Eve, 1999, I was engaged and on the way to a more realistic vision for myself. These days, when I'm helping Eli find dress-up clothes for his stuffed dog's wedding or discussing the rate for a night in Ben's space hotel, I sometimes pause to marvel that this has become my life, a life I could never have imagined when I was the age my oldest is now.

I'm lucky that my childhood dream adjusted easily to my adult reality. I'm lucky that I didn't have to give up one dream for another, or struggle to get the family I wanted. That struggle, and that difficult adjustment to an unanticipated reality, is the undercurrent of Deirdre Fishel's documentary, Sperm Donor X (2002), which follows four women, including the filmmaker herself, who want to become mothers and find themselves unexpectedly doing it on their own, with anonymous sperm donors.

You can read the rest over at Literary Mama. The film hasn't been released yet, as the filmmaker still needs to raise funds to license archival footage. If you'd like to help, consider making a donation at Kickstarter.

Labels: documentaries, literary mama, mama at the movies

Last year, I wrote about Pamela Tanner Boll's inspiring documentary about artists who are also mothers; if you haven't seen it yet and are in the New York area, here's a great way to see the movie, participate in a lively conversation about art and parenting, and do good -- all at the same time!


"This film is not about being a woman or being a woman artist, but rather how to be a human, how to find your true place in life.”

Join us for an evening of inspiration, collaboration and art

Wine Reception* Film Screening* Panel Discussion

May 1, 2010

6:30 pm

Peekskill Hat Factory

1000 North Division Street, Peekskill

Tickets: $30 per person

Hosted by The Peekskill Hat Factory

Benefitting The Garden Road School’s Arts in Education Programs

For more information or to purchase tickets visit: The Garden Road or email infoATthegardenroadDOTorg

************************************************************************

ABOUT THE FILM:

WHO DOES SHE THINK SHE IS? is a documentary by Academy Award winning filmmaker, Pamela Tanner Boll that follows the lives of five fierce female artists who refuse to choose between their art and their families. Through the lens of their lives, the film explores some of the most problematic intersections of our time: mothering and creativity, partnering and independence, economics and art. Visit the film's website to view the trailer and to learn more.

ABOUT THE PANELISTS:

We are honored to have six very talented artist-mothers signed on for what is sure to be a lively, relevant and moving panel discussion following the film. These fascinating women represent a cross section of female artists working to balance their art and families. They bring to the discussion a diversity of artistic mediums, life experiences, and personal perspectives.

Maria Colaco

Leslie Fields-Cruz

Sarah Haviland

Kathleen Pemble

Lowry Reinaur, Artist in Residence at The Garden Road School

Dar Williams

Labels: literary mama, mama at the movies, who does she think she is?

People write to me at Literary Mama fairly regularly, asking me to help them promote this or that event, and most of the time the events don't have much to do with the mission of Literary Mama. But when I heard from the folks at LitWorld about World Read Aloud Day, it was easy to offer our help, especially since it means I get to a) read aloud to kids (including my own!) and b) go on tv again!

So join me on World Read Aloud Day, March 3rd, at Books, Inc. in San Francisco's Laurel Village, from 6 - 7 PM for a bedtime story reading! I'll be joined by my friends and fellow writer-mamas Lisa Harper and Nicki Richesin. Bring the kids in their pj's for a fun evening outing!

Labels: literary mama, litworld, reading

"Nearly 60% of Americans are personally connected to someone who is either adopted, has adopted, or has relinquished a child to be adopted."
-- Evan B. Donaldson Adoption Institute

I read this statistic, which runs at the end of Barb Lee's documentary, Adopted (2008), and started counting in my head: ten cousins, two college roommates, one graduate school friend and two colleagues who are adopted, plus four other friends who have adopted children themselves. Two of my sons' four cousins are adopted. Yes, indeed, I am one of that 60%, and my life is certainly richer for it, but watching Adopted made me think that perhaps I take these riches too lightly.

Adopted tells the story of two families. First we meet Jennifer Fero, a thirty-two year old Korean woman adopted as an infant by an Oregon couple who experienced secondary infertility after having a son; the second storyline follows John and Jacqui Trainer, a New Hampshire couple who decide to adopt from China after their own long struggle with infertility. The two families are at opposite ends of their adoption journeys.

Please click on over to Literary Mama to read the rest!

Labels: Adopted, documentaries, literary mama, mama at the movies

In case you missed it, here's the clip of my recent segment on View from the Bay:

Labels: literary mama, reading

So I was on television today, and I have to say it was a lot of fun, though it all got off to kind of an inauspicious start. I arrived at the studio promptly at 2:20, as requested, accompanied by my supportive friend, only to find I wasn't on the security guard's List. I wasn't listed under my name, or my website, or my segment name. The security guard at the desk called the producer while my friend and I watched the 4 televisions in the lobby, hoping we wouldn't be there long enough to watch the show on which I was scheduled to appear. Time passed. I began cracking jokes about my life on the D-list. Guests arrived and were ushered in through the locked door by a production assistant with a walkie-talkie and an ear piece, and I began to wonder if I should sneak in with another group of guests.

2:30 came and went. I checked in again with the security guard, who had forgotten my name. I called and left a message for the segment producer, knowing he was likely in the studio, far from his office. I overheard the security guard say to someone, "Oh, that person must have slipped in while I was distracted." Um, security guard? I think it's your job not to be distracted! But that's okay, there's no reason anybody would ever want to slip unnoticed in to a television studio. I mean, I did, but I wasn't planning to hijack the news like the other guy probably was.

Eventually I got in. The producer was "looking all over" for me – except, you know, in the locked lobby. I was given a quick tour of the stage, shown where I would sit (grateful that I wouldn't be sitting between the two hosts, like a friend was during her TV gig, who then felt like she was watching a tennis match, unsure where to look). They took my pile of books, concerned that they might put them in the wrong order. "It's ok if they get mixed up, " I said, "I can talk about them in any order." The producer and stage manager looked at me, amazed. I can walk and chew gum, too, but I didn't offer to do that on the show.

The green room wasn't green, but mostly my friend and I hung out in the make-up room (thank you, kind make-up person, who did such a nice job of making me look like a better version of me!), chatting with Amy Tiemann and Jamie Woolf (who were on the show talking about their new project) and watching Florence Henderson talk about her new stage show and the tell-all books the Brady kids have written (and no, she never had an affair with Greg). At this point, understand, I wasn't yet sure I would actually appear on the show, because although I was listed on the show's website yesterday, I wasn't on the security guard's list, nor the producer's list, and while it was all kind of pleasant to hang out, I was going to be a little sad if I'd prepped and rescheduled the day and bought a new dress only to be asked to go home (well, I wouldn't really mind too much about the dress).

At 3:20, the production assistant came and said, "OK, you're on the schedule for 3:30!" So I had a moment to consider getting nervous but seemed to be done with that, and then spent some time cooling my heels (literally! it was freezing) in the back stage area while the stage manager tried to figure out how to clip the microphone onto me (my TV-veteran friends, having given me so much great advice about how to dress and sit, didn't mention microphone-friendly clothes, but there's only so much you can do, right?). It involved quantities of tape and me holding the device and trying not to turn it off until I got settled on my stool. I remembered not to cross my legs (thank you, Vicki), to look at the hosts, not the camera (thank you, Ericka, Sophia and Sybil), and I remembered what I wanted to say. That seemed the least of my worries, really, especially once I met the hosts, who could probably get rocks to say interesting things. They are very, very good at their jobs.

And then, four and a half minutes after it started, the segment was all over, and while I could have said lots (and lots!) more about each of these terrific picture books, at least I got to say one good thing about each of them. And then, at the production assistant's urging, I rummaged through the basket of green room snacks (Goldfish! Lorna Doones! Chocolates!) to bring treats home to my boys. I didn't meet Florence Henderson, but still: a pretty good afternoon.

Oh, and don't forget to check out the picture books, because they are lovely, and visit Literary Mama for new reading lists every month!

Labels: literary mama, san francisco, television

One of the sweet highlights of our Christmas vacation was our first-ever family movie outing, which provided fodder for my newest column at Literary Mama. Here's an excerpt:

We've been looking for Ben's first movie theater-movie for years. It had to be fairly quiet: no big explosions, no loud soundtrack (though we would bring ear plugs to protect against overzealous projectionists.) It had to be a gentle story: no heightened drama, no second act inflated by chase scenes. I could do without a lot of violence, car crashes or gun play (which make a surprising number of appearances even in G-rated kids' movies) and a well-written movie that didn't traffic in stereotypes would be welcome, though mostly I just wanted something that would make Ben laugh.

And so we found it, a movie about a fellow who makes a living as a thief until one day, while he is imprisoned for his crimes, he learns his wife is pregnant and he decides to go legit, writing a little-read column for the local newspaper. He settles into a modest life with his wife, a landscape painter, and his quirky son, a boy who embarrasses his father because he wears a bath towel as a cape and tucks his socks into his pants. When the boy's cousin comes for an extended visit, the father isn't ashamed to say that he prefers his socially-adept, athletic nephew to his son. But the quiet life bores him and he is tempted back into his life of crime, stealing from his neighbors, deceiving his wife, and ultimately putting his entire community at risk.

Perfect!

Fantastic Mr. Fox was perfect for us; ever since we saw it, the boys have been quoting lines, working on their whistling (to mimic Mr. Fox's trademark), we even made the cookies. Click on over to Literary Mama to read more.

Labels: Fantastic Mr. Fox, literary mama, mama at the movies, movies, Roald Dahl, Wes Anderson

Check it out.

And if you ever hear that I'm planning to wrap up a longterm project -- one my husband has been chipping away at for a year and one that takes up increasing amounts of my spare time, too, until we both find ourselves staying up past midnight, several nights running, to meet self-imposed deadlines -- during a big holiday week, while my kids are out of school and my parents are in town, you might want to dissuade me.

But it seems to have worked out okay.

Labels: literary mama

We are not, I admit, a family; we're folks. Sendak's fantasy of naked Mickey's romp in a New York City kitchen offers an airplane ride, guitar-playing, and the promise of breakfast cake; it depicts a child's solo adventure, but leads him gently back to bed at the end. It is the perfect story for my airplane-drawing, music-loving, kitchen-happy boys. , with Max's fierce temper and the Wild Things' raucous rumpussing, despite its blue-green cross-hatched beauty and peaceful ending, just scares my kids. There was no question of my movie-shy children attending the new film adaptation by Spike Jonze and Dave Eggers, especially after I heard them clarify that is not a film for children, but a film about childhood.

And for that, I love it.

click on over to Literary Mama to read the rest!

Labels: literary mama, mama at the movies, movies, where the wild things are

Who Does She Think She Is?, the terrific documentary about women trying to combine motherhood and artistic work, is coming out on DVD! I wrote about the film last year in my Mama at the Movies column. Here's an excerpt:

I hadn't really thought about the constraints of space and materials that visual artists work with until I watched Pamela Tanner Boll's moving new documentary Who Does She Think She Is? (2008), which introduces us to several mother-artists and asks why, when making art and raising children are both crucial for our culture, it is so hard to do both. The film wants us to know about these mothers making art, and it puts their stories in the larger context of all women artists. Like all women, women artists find their work less well-known and less well-compensated than the work of their male contemporaries. Like all mothers, mother artists endure isolation from their peers, sleep deprivation, and myriad claims on their time which make it difficult to continue their careers. But they do.

The filmmakers are celebrating the DVD release by organizing house parties around the country on November 8th. Want to join them? You can buy the DVD at a 10% discount with a special promotional code for Literary Mama and Food for Thought readers; just go the DVD online store and enter the promo code LitMama.

There's more info about the house party idea here and here. Check it out, and then gather your friends for a screening!

Labels: literary mama, mama at the movies, who does she think she is?

It was sea-creature month at the movies for me, first taking Eli to see the new Miyazaki film, Ponyo, and then watching The Secret of Roan Inish on my own. Here's an excerpt from my latest Mama at the Movies column:

With all the summer buzz about the new Hayao Miyazaki film, Ponyo (2009), I thought maybe this would be my son Ben's first movie-theater movie. He's been reluctant to go to the theater, cautious of the loud soundtrack and the sense of disappearing into the story (which of course I love). I showed both boys the trailer and Ben, not surprisingly, said "That looks like a movie I might want to watch at home on DVD." But his younger brother Eli wanted to go to the movies, and so while Ben was at school one day the two of us went to the theater together for the first time since he was a sling-riding baby who nursed while I dropped bits of popcorn on his head.

Please visit Literary Mama to read the rest!

Labels: john sayles, literary mama, mama at the movies, miyazaki, ponyo, roan inish

My friend and fellow mama-writer, one of the most savvy internet book marketing women I know, Christina Katz, is once again running her Writer Mama Back-to-School Giveaway where she gives away one book or magazine subscription every day in September. On September 25th, I'm delighted that Mama, PhD will be included in a trio of anthologies edited by Literary Mama editors Shari MacDonald Strong and Amy Hudock.

Our books -- ; ; and --will be up for giveaway on September 25th. To see a complete list of what you can win, visit Christina’s Writer Mama blog. You can enter every day if you want, so bookmark her site and visit again and again. Good luck!

Labels: giveaways, literary mama, mama phd

To celebrate the publication of her new book, 31 Hours, novelist and friend of Literary Mama Masha Hamilton is hosting a contest:

Email a paragraph or story (500 words max) about when your intuition has been right about your child.

The top five stories—selected by Masha and guest judges—will get a free hardcover copy of the book and have their stories featured on the 31 Hours site.

Entries accepted until: September 30, 2009
Winners announced: October 16, 2009

Don't send your entries to me; forward them to mashaATmashahamiltonDOTcom

Labels: 31 hours, contests, giveaways, literary mama, masha hamilton

We interrupt this vacation blogging again to address what I read on my vacation, which started with the fabulous , the first novel by Literary Mama's fiction co-editor, Kristina Riggle.

I'm in the happy position now that a good portion of my bookshelf is filled with books written by women I know and like. I suppose there could be some anxiety in this -- what if I don't like the book as much as the writer? -- but so far I haven't been disappointed. Still, many of those books developed out of columns I'd been following for a while, or grew in my writing group. In Kristina's case, I'd only read one short story of hers, What Kind of Mother (published on Literary Mama), and although we correspond regularly and were lucky enough to meet last winter at a conference, I had no idea what her writer's voice, her fiction voice, might be like until she read a portion of the book at an event during that conference and I was mesmerized. The mother of two young kids that I'd been talking to over dinner before the reading disappeared into a pot-smoking, raspy-voiced mother of three grown children, grudgingly submitting to an anniversary party thrown by her eldest daughter, a polished suburban mother completely different from herself. I knew then not to worry about the rest of the book.

And I adored it.

The book takes place over the weekend of Max and Mirabelle Zielinski's anniversary party, a family reunion at which a number of family secrets and lies are revealed. Riggle narrates the story from the perspectives of Mira and her three children: Katya, a suburban mother of three who, as Mira puts it, "drags [her younger siblings] along under the wheels of her train"; Ivan, a struggling songwriter who can't see the love that's right in front of him; and Irina, who is accidentally (reluctantly) pregnant and married to a man who isn't going to let her screw it up.

Mira sees her children like she's got a magnifying glass on them, and Riggle emphasizes Mira's maternal perspective subtly by granting her the only first-person narration of the book; her three children's stories are all told in the 3rd person. Meanwhile, Mira's husband Max, a successful novelist, doesn't get a turn at telling the story, which nicely underlines his position in the family: in it, certainly, but always maintaining a bit of distracted distance. As his son, Ivan, puts it of Max, in one of my favorite lines of the book: he "always seems to be writing his novels on the opposite wall of whatever room he's in..." It's a tricky thing to handle the shifting perspectives so fluidly, but Riggle pulls it off without a hitch.

I won't give the story away by telling what happens, but instead, and in the spirit of this sharply funny and concise novel, I'll just share a few of my favorite passages:

Here's Katya: "A mosquito lands on her linen pants and stabs through to suck at her. What's one more parasite, Katya thinks. Go ahead, suck me dry along with everyone else. The reflexive shame kicks in at thinking of her family this way."

Here's Ivan: "For a time, Van had a poster of his hero taped on his apartment wall. Bob Dylan stared down at him every night and every morning, heavy-lidded, cigarette drooping.

"Then Van got drunk on whiskey and self-pity one night and ripped it down, and in the blazing light of morning, through his hangover fog, he'd noticed that the paint had faded all around where it was taped, so he'd been left with his imprint. It was like a chalk outline around the corpse of his ambition."

And Irina: "She always seemed to zoom back toward home base after every relationship went up in flames, brushing ashes out of her hair."

But my favorite character is Mira, knowing but flawed Mira, who muses, "We all have the best-laid plans for our children, and they go and ruin it all by growing up any way they want to. What the hell was it all for, then?" Mira's children don't need her like they used to, her marriage has settled into something more comfortable than passionate, and her job, teaching college, may be coming to an end as well. She's faced with some things that are making her reflect on her choices, but she knows she's got a lot to be grateful for; she did a lot right. And although I'm at a very different stage in my life than Mirabelle Zielinski is, I loved her voice, and felt like I was in very good company reading her story. She and her family are characters that are going to stay with me a good long while.

For more about Kristina Riggle, visit her website, her blog over at The Debutante Ball, or .

Labels: book reviews, kristina riggle, literary mama, real life and liars

We interrupt this vacation blogging to announce that the latest Mama at the Movies column is now up at Literary Mama:

In the grand tradition of summer buddy movies, Sam Mendes' new movie Away We Go presents a couple who take to the road. They're not running from the law like Thelma and Louise or Manny & Lo, nor simply exploring, like the guys in Sideways; like road trippers from Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz to Bree and Toby in Transamerica, Verona and Burt are trying to get home. The difference here is that they don't know where home might be. Verona is six months pregnant, and the couple reminds me of Mr. and Mrs. Mallard in Make Way for Ducklings: they're looking for a good place to raise their baby.

Please click on over to Literary Mama to read the rest!

Labels: away we go, literary mama, mama at the movies

I found unexpected Father's Day fodder in the films Mary Poppins and Finding Neverland; here's an excerpt from my latest column:

As my family counts down the days to a summer trip to London, I decided to prepare my sons the way I know best: by watching movies about the place. Of course, my choices might not be the most realistic visions of the city, but we're not ready for A Clockwork Orange or The Elephant Man here (we may never be). I wanted to show them the London created by my childhood reading, the London of corner flower shops, chimney sweeps, and nursery tea, the London of Mary Poppins. I'm planning to read the books with the boys on our trip, but at home we started with Julie Andrews and Dick Van Dyke in Robert Stevenson's 1964 musical film.

You can click on over to Literary Mama to read the rest!

Labels: father's day, finding neverland, literary mama, mama at the movies, mary poppins

As a college student, I interned with Women Make Movies, an organization that helps female filmmakers at every stage of their projects. I caught a glimpse of how difficult it was for women to get their stories to the screen, but I never saw into these women’s private lives, didn’t know if any were mothers; now that I’m a mother myself, I think about the intersection of motherhood and creativity all the time. So after I watched and wrote about the documentary, Who Does She Think She Is?, which profiles several mother-artists, I decided to interview the woman behind the film, director Pamela Tanner Boll. The result of that conversation has been published at Literary Mama this week; here's a brief excerpt:

Caroline: How do you write a documentary film? Do you start with a loose script and then adapt based on interviews? Are there certain questions you have in mind before you begin, or do you leave yourself open?

Pam: I did not "write" the documentary until we began editing. I had a very firm conviction that I would follow these awesome amazing women as they made their way through their days, their art studios, their breakfast dishes, and errands, and loneliness and see what happened.

I wanted to stay open to the story. I did have certain questions, the main one being, what made it possible for these women to not give up on their dreams? What made it possible for each of them to believe in their voice, their talent, their truth despite lack of support and often, little recognition?

Caroline: Who are some filmmakers and writers you admire, or who influences your work?

Pam: I am more influenced by writers than filmmakers. I grew up reading, reading, reading. Some of my favorite books and authors are Virginia Woolf, especially ; George Eliot’s ; by Zora Neale Hurston; , just to name a few.

I was an avid movie watcher all throughout my childhood and early adult years. I loved all the Walt Disney films and the Tarzan series with Johnny Weismuller and Bonanza -- big family dramas.

Click on over to Literary Mama to read the rest!

Labels: literary mama, mama at the movies, movies, who does she think she is?

I always imagined that my kids and I would watch loads of movies together. We would start at home with sweet animated features like Toy Story or movies I loved as a kid, like The Red Balloon. Then as they got older, we would go out regularly, settling in with our salty buckets of popcorn to watch the latest family flick. It hasn't worked out like that, though. Ben, at seven, has only seen one movie in a theater, a special screening of The Polar Express for a friend's birthday. He lasted about ten minutes before he came out to the lobby, overwhelmed; the loud soundtrack and the huge projected images were just too much for him. Meanwhile, although I managed a few mom and baby movies when Eli was still a tiny nursling, I had to quit those screenings before he was nine months old; instead of sleeping quietly while I caught up on the latest releases, he wanted to watch and chat with the figures on screen. At four, he's happy to watch the same movies at home that Ben has been watching for years: Curious George; Toy Story; The Little Prince. But I'm getting bored, and wanted to find something new that might suit their very different temperaments.

Read the rest of the column over at Literary Mama!

Labels: family life, literary mama, mama at the movies, the iron giant

My fabulous writing group, The Motherlode Writers, is reading at Book Passage on Sunday and we'd love for you to join us!

Motherlode is a Berkeley-based community of mother-writers. We work in a wide variety of genres, including essay, memoir, poetry, and fiction. Our work has been published in print and online outlets including The New York Times, The Washington Post, Literary Mama, a variety of anthologies, and numerous other journals, blogs and 'zines. Our recent books include Sybil Lockhart's (Touchstone/Simon & Schuster, 2009); Sophia Raday's (Beacon Press, 2009); and Caroline Grant's (Rutgers University Press, 2008). Readers also include Marian Berges, Ursula Ferreira, Rebecca Kaminsky and Sarah Kilts.

Bring the kids and join us on Mother's Day for a celebration of motherhood and writing!

Sunday May 10th 2 - 3 p.m.
Book Passage

Labels: literary mama, mama phd, mother's day, mothering, writing

I don't remember when I first walked into a prenatal yoga class. I was teaching at Stanford at the time, a two-hour daily commute, and maybe the fact that I was so darned uncomfortable –pacing around the conference table during class, fidgeting in my seat during office hours, using cruise control so that I could stretch my legs on the long drive -- sent me to that cool, pine-floored studio once a week. There I gathered with the other round-bellied mamas and we stretched and balanced and relaxed through our ninety minutes.

After Ben was born, I returned to mom and baby yoga for a bit but, unsurprisingly, didn't find the peace and relaxation I'd enjoyed during prenatal yoga. Ben was a noisy, needy, perfectly typical baby and although I aspired to be the kind of balanced yogini that could nurse while standing on one leg in vrksasana (tree pose), I could barely relax lying on the floor with him in corpse pose.

I returned to yoga during my second pregnancy; this time I wasn't working outside the home, but renovating our house and caring for a three year-old kept me even busier. The once-a-week session seemed like the only time to spend thinking about this coming baby, and I wound up asking my yoga teacher to serve as my doula during my eventual 17-hour labor. I can't say I consciously practiced yoga during the labor, exactly, but the training I'd absorbed, the thoughtfulness about breathing and stretching and opening, all helped me ride my labor peacefully almost toward the end. I say "almost" to account for the brief interval between feeling the urge to push and getting the doctor's green light to push, when I recall shouting to my doula, "There is not enough yoga in the world to get me through this!" She laughed, which made me laugh, which distracted me enough to survive that last minute until I could push Eli out.

But again, mom and baby yoga wasn't for me (especially since I never could find a mom + baby + preschooler yoga class), and yoga has fallen by the wayside as I find my best exercise time is a quick run before the boys wake up. My yoga mat is rolled up in the garage, gathering dust, and I look at it sometimes, thinking I should bring it upstairs, lay it out next to my bed, and try to get in a quick pose or two before bed. All of which explains why I jumped at the chance to read Jessica Berger Gross's new book, . I thought it might help me get back on the mat.

I know Jessica's writing from Literary Mama, of course, but also from her work editing the gorgeous anthology, About What Was Lost. EnLIGHTened is part memoir – a journal of her struggles with weight and the emotionally unhealthy family dynamic that contributed to her eating issues —part gentle how-to. She is so honest in her writing about her past (starting with the confession that her childhood nickname was the mean "Bubble Berger" because of the extra layer of fat she carried), that a reader is immediately sympathetic and open to her advice. The book is practical and pragmatic, full of diagrams of yoga poses, recipes, and sutras (both in Sanskrit and in English); she is so convinced of the benefits of her path that she offers a reader lots of ways to join her, and the result is friendly, charming, and accessible. I may not go as far as she does in her low-fat diet (I'm lucky not to have weight issues), but she makes me think twice about the ice cream in my freezer, or at least consider serving myself a much smaller scoop.

I figured I would read her book the way I do books by Michael Pollan or Barbara Kingsolver (books with which enLIGHTened shares some thinking): I am a member of her choir – I am a vegetarian, organic food-buying, yoga-aspiring writer – but as such, I try to be extra-sensitive to preaching, proselytizing and didacticism. So I'm happy to report that whenever she strays into potential eye-rolling territory, she pokes a little fun at herself. For instance, in the chapter on purity and cleanliness, she describes attending a retreat in which she was led through a thirty-minute exercise in "conscious sipping:"

"It was unnerving to drink so slowly. After all, I was used to downing a juice while talking on the phone or blow-drying my hair or driving my car or checking my e-mail. Plus, I was already hungry and it was only the first morning. "What do you want out of the next sip?" Alison asked. I wanted to be comforted, I wanted to be filled. (To be honest, I wanted a grilled cheese sandwich.)"

Later in the same chapter, she writes, "If you eat healthy and low-fat most of the time, you can splurge on the occasional more-indulgent foods." I perked up, wondering what would count as indulgent for someone who bemoans her previously unenlightened nightly snack of Cheerios and chocolate chips (please! My indulgent snack is a bowl of melted peanut butter, topped with vanilla ice cream, granola, and chocolate syrup.) So she continues, "On a weekend—not every weekend, but on the occasional Sunday—Neil and I will go out for whole wheat organic pizza made with hormone-free cheese (I know, I live on the edge)." If she's living on the edge, even my decent diet puts me over the cliff, but that's fine. The point here is not that you slavishly follow every tenet she outlines here –I agree with her that we'd probably be healthier if we did, but I certainly can't – but she offers a great menu from which you can choose.

Yesterday I finished reading enLIGHTened and then washed off my old yoga mat and rolled it out next to the bed. This morning I was already awake when the alarm clock went off, having been woken at 5 by my 7 year-old climbing into bed next to me. At the sound of the alarm, my almost-4 year old thundered down the hall and climbed in, too. I extricated myself from the warm pile and stood on the mat a moment, groggily collecting myself in tadasana (mountain pose) before stretching my arms up over my head and bending one leg at the knee in vrksasana. The boys giggled from their cozy nest, but tomorrow I'll encourage them to come join me. Now I know this is the perfect way to start the day, and I'm grateful to enLIGHTend for reminding me.

Labels: book reviews, enlightened, family life, jessica berger gross, literary mama, yoga

A couple days after my first son's birth, I walked down the street of our busy neighborhood with my baby in a sling, awestruck. Everybody I looked at, I realized, every child, every adult, had come out of a woman's body. I walked home slowly, mind-boggled at the wonder of it all. I was still a little stunned by my short, hard labor, and felt like I had been initiated into an amazing new society; I wanted to tell my birth story to anyone who would listen, and wanted to hear other women's stories. Now, nearly four years after I gave birth to my second son, I still often find myself in groups of women that drift into sharing birth stories; we commiserate over past pains, cheer for supportive attendants, and, as we tell our stories, come to a better understanding of this sometimes joyous, sometimes traumatic, always transformative event.

Better understanding is the impulse behind the documentary, The Business of Being Born (2008). Producer Ricki Lake, unhappy with the interventions she experienced during her first child's birth, set out to research American birth practices. She and director Abby Epstein (who became pregnant during the filming) dig up incredible documentary footage and still photos to create an informative, gripping film that should interest anyone concerned with healthcare in the United States, especially parents and parents-to-be.

Click on over to Literary Mama to read the rest!

Labels: business of being born, literary mama, mama at the movies, movies, ricki lake

Christina Katz, The Writer Mama, is one busy woman. I met her for the first time last month at the AWP conference in Chicago. While some of us were trying to figure out where to eat lunch between panels, she came to say a gracious hello, and then excused herself, I expect to go write a book or coach a student or develop a new publicity plan. She's got ideas and she wants to share them; she wants mothers who write to get their work published and read by the broadest possible audience. And although I think Elrena and I have done pretty well spreading the word about Mama, PhD (have you watched our ? joined our how about bought yourself a t-shirt at our store?) there's always something more a writer can learn about every step of the process, and I've learned from Christina's work. So I'm happy to help celebrate the two-year anniversary of her book by having Christina Katz guest blog here today.

Post #29: Your Book’s Benefits
The features of your book are nice. You need to know what they are.

But the benefits of your book, not the features, will determine if your book is going to sell.

Your book’s benefits will motivate a potential reader to seek your book out and buy it…or not. For example, here are some of Writer Mama’s benefits described:

As a mom, you want to spend as much time with your children as possible. But you’d also like to make some money doing something you enjoy. How do you get the best of both worlds? Writer Mama, How to Raise a Writing Career Alongside Your Kids by experienced freelancer Christina Katz tells you how. You can start a stay-at-home freelance writing career tailored to fit your family and lifestyle.

Writer Mama will answer all your questions about how to get started, in realistic, easy-to-follow steps. While conversational and easy-to-read, this book also does a lot of hard work for you. It gives you practical advice and exercises that help you get started in a matter of weeks.

Writer Mama is a reference book, so notice that most of the benefits described above relate to how informative it is. Since it’ a how-to book, the benefits relate back to how helpful and handy it is. They describe how the book walks the reader through a process step-by-step.

Remember, all you former students out there, the emphasis on forms in my Writing and Publishing the Short Stuff class? Well, when it's time to describe your book's benefits your understanding of writing forms will prove helpful once again. Different forms accomplish different things. Fiction takes the reader away and offers entertainment. Memoir typically offers a heartwarming, inspirational or humorous slice of life. But nonfiction books are very practical. Nonfiction forms accomplish their mission by informing the reader through a list of tips, a how-to process, or a cataloging of relevant facts and information, or all of the above.

The promotional material for Writer Mama weaves together features and benefits, since thought and consideration went into both:

You’ll love the short chapters, sidebars, and exercises that let you get the information you need in small doses that fit into your busy schedule. Plus this book was written to grow with you. Once you master the skills of being an article writer, it teaches you how to pitch a nonfiction book idea and explore other areas of writing—advice you won’t find presented like this anywhere else.

So if you want to get started writing for publication, let writer mama Christina Katz help. If she and countless other moms can do it, so can you!

Nonfiction books make the reader’s life easier by gathering and compressing information the reader wants and needs into tight writing. Nonfiction books are typically focused on an outcome and chug toward that outcome purposefully like a train. A nonfiction book written for traditional publication never rambles or loses its way. The sense of purpose is clear from the moment you set your eyes on the book’s cover, as you crack the book open, start scanning the table of contents and reading a chapter or the introduction.

Books have been informing, inspiring and entertaining people for many years, so the fact that your book does one or all of these things is just the beginning of describing the benefits of your book for readers. In order to offer value to your intended reader, your book must make a promise and deliver on that promise.

The promise you made when you pitched your book will be re-summarized once your book is complete as the benefits that will sell, or not sell, your book.

Today's Book Drawing: To enter to win a signed, numbered copy of Writer Mama, answer the following question in this blog's comments:
What unique benefits will your book have for your readers? Can you offer any specifics on how your book will inform, entertain or inspire readers?

Thanks for participating! Only US residents, or folks with a US mailing address can participate in the drawing. Please only enter once per day.

Where will the drawing be tomorrow? Visit The Writer Mama to continue reading the rest of the Writer Mama story throughout March 2009!

Writer Mama, How to Raise a Writing Career Alongside Your Kids by Christina Katz (Writer's Digest Books 2007)
Kids change your life, but they don't necessarily have to end your career. Stay-at-home moms will love this handy guide to rearing a successful writing career while raising their children. The busy mom's guide to writing life, this book gives stay-at-moms the encouragement and advice they need including everything from getting started and finding ideas to actually finding time to do the work - something not easy to do with the pitter-patter of little feet. With advice on how to network and form a a business, this nurturing guide covers everything a writer mama needs to succeed at her second job. Christina Katz is also the author of the newly released Get Known Before the Book Deal, Use Your Personal Strengths to Grow an Author Platform (Writer's Digest Books 2008).

Labels: AWP, blog book tours, Christina Katz, literary mama, Writer Mama

I was delighted today to receive my contributor copy of , in which my essay "The Cookie" has been reprinted. My story is about a particularly trying day of new motherhood and how a little old-fashioned advice and infant Ben's own ingenuity saved the day.

My Literary Mama colleagues Amy Hudock and Kristina Riggle also have essays in this collection, which is a terrific group of moving, honest, and unsentimental essays about new motherhood. Check it out!

Labels: anthologies, Cup of Comfort, literary mama, reading, writing

My latest column is up now at Literary Mama:

When I first learned I was pregnant, I started a journal on my computer; seven months into the project, my hard drive crashed and the most detailed journal I had ever kept was lost. Since then, I fill Italian paper notebooks that I buy in bulk at a local art store; I keep one next to my bed with a pen marking my place and the journals from earlier years are piled on a low shelf of my bedside table. If I ever had to flee the house, I would scoop the journals up on my way to get the kids.

I do this for myself, to keep hold of my sons' fleeting childhoods and to make sense of my life. I reread the journals frequently. I am a researcher searching for patterns, seeking context or comfort in the midst of challenging periods, and I am a writer looking for anecdotes for my public writing. But I wonder sometimes, what will become of this private record when I'm gone? Will my children preserve it? Do I want them to read it? Will their children be interested in their grandmother's life?

The documentary film Must Read After My Death (Morgan Dews, 2009) has me thinking about these questions of legacy and privacy more pointedly than usual. Filmmaker Morgan Dews composed the film entirely of the 300 pages of transcripts, fifty hours of audio diaries and Dictaphone letters, and 201 silent home movies he discovered after his grandmother Allis's death; the boxes were all carefully labeled in thick black marker with her initials and a message: "Must Read After My Death." The film makes a searing portrait of a typical American family, one that slips gradually, mysteriously, from happy to tragic while they all unwittingly document the change.

Click on over to Literary Mama to read the rest...

Labels: documentaries, literary mama, mama at the movies

The conference so far:

One blood orange margarita at Frontera Grill

Two meals with great writers and fans of Mama, PhD: Elline Lipkin and Elizabeth Coffman

Three sighing, meaningless invocations of the word "craft" (in one panel!), as in
Question: What makes this writing stand out?
Answer: Well [long pause], I'd say, really, well, it's just ... the craft.

Four (out of five) speakers on the Fictionalizing the Family panel who don't have children, and so advised "Write as if everyone you know is dead." Kill your darlings, indeed! I can't write like that.

Five speakers on the fabulous Writing as Parents panel -- Kate Hopper, Jill Christman, Shari MacDonald Strong, Sonya Huber and Jennifer Niesslein -- who spoke much more relevantly to me. I loved all their presentations, and am thinking this morning particularly about Sonya Huber's anecdote expressing the whiplash of talking with small children. Her son asked her one day, "How many days until the day we die?" When she responded, "We don't know," he asked, quite reasonably, "Why don't we ask the one who made all our parts?" And then, as she was still struggling with her answer to that, he tossed her a softball, "How do you spell Chewbacca?"

Six more meals until I head home.

Seven readers at tonight's Literary Mama reading at Women and Children First bookstore; if you're in Chicago, please come!

Eight panels today that sound interesting to me, so many that I may not make it to any.

Nine times I laughed out loud during Art Spiegelman's brilliant, funny, keynote talk, a swift survey of comic strips and his place in them.

Ten minutes in the bookfair before I was weighed down with free chocolates, pens, and subscription forms.

Labels: AWP, literary mama, mothering, writing

Ten months of planning (thankfully quite intermittent)

Nine Literary Mama editors and Mama, PhD contributors I'm looking forward to meeting, talking to, sharing meals with, and getting to know much better

Eight panels I could attend each day, if I have the energy

Seven lunches and dinners without children

Six-plus years of mothering with only a couple nights away

Five writers on the Literary Mama panel: A Model of Grassroots Literary Community Building.

Four nights away, for the first time ever

Three guys I'm going to miss

Two flights alone

One big milestone

Labels: chicago, family life, literary mama, mama phd, travel

Eli is standing by the side of my bed in his pjs, clutching his patch blanket, Little Blue Bear, Moosie, and his small pottery train engine. He is angling for some Saturday morning television. "Let's watch the goose movie again, Mama!"

"Yeah!" adds Ben, walking down the hall, "Let's watch the goose movie!"

"Do you want to watch any of the story," I ask groggily, "or just the geese and planes?"

"Geese and planes!" they chorus happily, "Geese and planes!"

Click on over to Literary Mama to read the rest!

Labels: airplanes, family life, fly away home, literary mama, mama at the movies

I've been busy this December, with a good week's vacation in snowy Connecticut with my entire family (some pictures here) followed by three days at the annual Modern Language Association convention, reporting on the proceedings for Inside Higher Ed. You can read those articles here:

MLA Realities: Then and Now

The Quest for Balance and Support

Caring for Children and Their Parents

In the midst of all that, I watched an incredible documentary about how a group of Muslim and Christian women worked together to end Liberia's fourteen-year civil war. Here's an excerpt:

Ben and his friend were in the bedroom playing war. Because they are the kinds of boys they are, the game involved Legos and negotiation of the rules but very little discernible war play. Still, because I am the kind of mom I am, I suggested some other more friendly narratives in which to involve their Legos. Then three year-old Eli, who had been listening attentively to all sides of the conversation, shouted out his peace plan:

"All war, go home! Have dinner! Go to sleep!"

We laughed (me a bit ruefully) at Eli's naiveté, but when I saw the new documentary Pray the Devil Back to Hell (Gini Reticker, 2008) I reconsidered Eli's approach.

You can read the rest of the column over at Literary Mama.

Labels: literary mama, mama at the movies, mama phd

I was stunned yesterday to learn of the sudden death of Literary Mama columnist Ericka Lutz's husband, Bill Sonnenschein. Ericka had been writing recently about a new and exciting stage in their marriage as Bill's career took him to Madagascar. The family was there together for the holidays when Bill passed away. Ericka's most recent column, Holding, is a beautiful and now terribly sad tribute to their relationship:

A painting I did the first year Bill and I were together shows a field of green. In the center there's a floating bed, and in the middle of the bed two people, face to face, stare into each others' eyes and hold each other. That was what we were like those first years. We held each other and saved each other and were each other's everything.

Time passed, and of course we changed; we had to, and it was appropriate that we did. We moved out into our own worlds, but we kept that connection. Night after night Bill slept next to me, his warmth just inches away.

Please visit Literary Mama to read the rest.

Labels: literary mama

In Columns

Great Green Room
by Stephanie Hunt

I have a heron. A gorgeous, mysterious Great Blue. In the mornings
when the sun is bright, I pull back my bedroom drapes and look first
thing. From my window I have the slimmest keyhole view through my
neighbor's gate out toward the harbor, where at the end of a dock he
sits. Regal, still, his pewter feathers nearly indistinguishable from
the slate sky. He is my talisman, and when I catch him there, for some
inexplicable reason my day feels charmed.

Red Diaper Dharma
by Ericka Lutz

One of my favorite Roz Chast cartoons shows a woman in her forties or fifties wearing a flowing baggy dress with a wild hairstyle and clunky jewelry. The words read: Are you entering your "Goddess" years? Have you gotten heavily into herbal teas, especially the "soothing" varieties? Has your husband recently purchased an expensive sports car? What's with the hair? This cartoon makes me convulse with laughter and cringe with a bit too much recognition. Am I her? Am I that? Is she my future?

In Fiction

At Second Sight
by Ashley Kaufman

The birth had been an assault. Natural childbirth and pitocin should not be uttered in the same sentence, much less tried together, at least not by her. She had felt inadequate; she had felt unsafe with all those expectant faces waiting impatiently around her, and all their instructions. "Push! Harder! Come on, bear down, now, let's get this baby out!" The voices, unconnected to bodies, pierced unevenly through the bubble that shut her off alone with the pain. And it had been a bubble. Like being underwater. She was alone inside of it. No one could reach her. No one could help her. But they could hurt her, or at least he could and did. She felt the ring of fire as he crowned, and the last of what had once been her self slipped away and she watched as what was only animal pushed a baby out. It was not the spiritual experience the natural birth proponents had promised.

Literary Mama Logo Contest

Literary Mama is turning 5 and we need a fresh look! We're soliciting designs for a new logo that includes our name and tagline -- Literary Mama: Reading for the Maternally Inclined -- plus, optionally, an image that captures the spirit of the site. The winning entry will become the property of Literary Mama, to be used on our site, and on any and all Literary Mama gear. We'll give the winning designer credit on our site, of course, plus a t-shirt and a copy of the Literary Mama anthology. Send your entries (or questions) by January 1st as jpg files (800 pixels wide) to

Labels: literary mama

Literary Mama is turning 5 and we need a fresh look! We're soliciting designs for a new logo that includes our name and tagline -- Literary Mama: Reading for the Maternally Inclined -- plus, optionally, an image that captures the spirit of the site. The winning entry will become the property of Literary Mama, to be used on our site, and on any and all Literary Mama gear. We'll give the winning designer credit on our site, of course, plus a t-shirt and a copy of the Literary Mama anthology. Send your entries by January 1st as jpg files (800 pixels wide) to

Visit us at Literary Mama

Labels: literary mama

The first I heard about the movie Baby Mama was when our accountant emailed this poster over and said "They stole your cover design!" Well, I don't think we had a monopoly on the use of alphabet blocks, but still it somehow triggered a teeny sense of totally unreasonable resentment toward the movie, and that, coupled with a busy summer, meant I never got out to see it.

And then Sarah Palin was nominated for VP, and Tina Fey made Saturday Night Live relevant again, and I thought it might be worth checking out her movie. I wrote about it this week for Literary Mama; here's an excerpt:

I lost sleep over the election. Partly because of my investment in the outcome, certainly, but also because for the first time since I was in my 20s, I regularly stayed up past my bedtime watching Tina Fey's sharp Sarah Palin on Saturday Night Live. So when my family planned a relaxing weekend away with another family, I thought Fey's recent comedy Baby Mama would be a good rental to toss in the bag. After a busy day at the pumpkin patch, we settled the kids into their beds and settled ourselves in front of the TV, prepared to be entertained.

Click on over to Literary Mama to read the rest! and while you're there, check out columnist Karen Murphy's newest installment of Motherhood from Afar; Elrena Evan's Stepping Stones; Ona Gritz on Getting to Yes; and finally, if your kids are anything like mine, you're still answering dozens of questions about the election, so check out Libby Gruner's thoughts on political picture books in Running for Office.

Labels: columns, literary mama, mama at the movies, movies

There's a little something for everyone at Literary Mama this week. Can't stop thinking about the election? Read Children's Lit Book Group for some books that will get even the youngest readers involved, and The Maternal Is Political for a thoughtful exploration of one mama's political journey. Sick of thinking about the election? Then read about how Doing It Differently came to take one big step, or follow as Me and My House takes many steps.

In Literary Reflections, you know you all do it -- now read about how Heidi Scrimgeour writes in the shower. And finally, I wanted to learn about how my friend and former LM columnist Gail Konop Baker writes anywhere, in addition to mothering her 3 kids, running, and dealing with cancer. So I interviewed her; read our conversation here.

Labels: literary mama, reading, writing

My new column's up at Literary Mama; here's an excerpt:

Ben first became interested in politics last winter, when his kindergarten teacher organized a peace march to celebrate Martin Luther King, Jr.'s birthday. The kids painted posters and made a wandering parade down to the Fillmore district of San Francisco, singing "Happy Birthday" and chanting "What do we want? Peace! When do we want it? Now!"

Now, Ben divides politicians into two camps: those who uphold MLK's principles, and those who don't. He has decided Obama is his candidate, will argue his opinion with his classmates, and has dedicated his sidewalk lemonade stand to raise money for the campaign. I only wish he could vote.

Instead, we've been reading political picture books like Gloria for President, and I'm keeping my eye out for movies about elections that are appropriate for kids. I had high hopes for the documentary I saw recently, What's Your Point, Honey? (Amy Sewell--writer of Mad Hot Ballroom--and Susan Toffler, 2008), but it's too talky for my young kids. Still, I think it would make a good conversation-starter to watch with boys and girls about ten and up.

Read the rest over at Literary Mama, where you can also read Violeta Garcia-Mendoza's new column about starting preschool, Multi-Culti Mami, and new fiction, creative nonfiction, and a terrific new reading list, too!

Labels: literary mama, mama at the movies

Last spring, when I was visiting Libby in Richmond, I had the chance to sit down with Elrena and Libby's colleague Terry Dolson for a long talk about mothering, graduate work, and the different paths that brought Elrena and me together to create Mama, PhD. Somehow, Terry managed to whittle the conversation down to a readable couple pages, and the result is at LiteraryMama today.

Terry starts by talking about her experience as a pregnant woman in a graduate program in English, and comments:

Was it naiveté that convinced me then that the complex path to combining motherhood and academia were mapped already? No one told me it was; no one talked about it at all. Not talking about it allows for assumptions about "how it's always been" to go unquestioned. In a comment on a recent InsideHigherEd.com article, one male academic seriously described academia as "a gentlemanly profession." Thank goodness that Elrena Evans and Caroline Grant's book, , begins to outline a new path. This collection of essays by women trying to navigate the "gentlemanly field" of academia may be the first step toward addressing the "ivory ceiling." I spoke with Caroline and Elrena at a coffee shop near my campus to learn what inspired this essay collection.

Click on over to LiteraryMama to read the rest!

Labels: literary mama, mama phd

I'm way behind on my "movie minutes" posts, and will update soon, since I've seen lots of good (Frozen River) and bad (The Women) lately. But in the meantime, it was nice to get back to writing my column this month with a reminiscence of our trip to Paris this summer. Here's an excerpt:

When the chance came to spend a week in Paris this summer, my mind filled with visions of Nutella crepes, red wine at sidewalk bistros, and sunset walks along the Seine.

"What Paris, Mama?" three-year-old Eli asked, bringing me back down to earth and replacing my romantic thoughts with more prosaic concerns: getting two kids through a 10-hour flight; finding vegetarian food in the land of steak frites; navigating the Metro. We needed to prepare.

You can read the rest of my column, plus Stephanie Hunt's gorgeous column, Core Matters, a swan song from 12-Step Mama, and lots of terrific fiction and creative nonfiction, over at Literary Mama.

Labels: literary mama, mama at the movies, movies, paris

It's always gratifying to update Literary Mama on Sundays and see pieces--some of which I first read several months ago--find their broad audience. I try to give each just a quick final read--they've all been through a couple rounds of editing and copyediting, but sometimes I might catch a stray typo--still, inevitably I forget myself and get drawn into the essay or story or poem as if for the first time.

This week, there's Hilary Meyerson's beautiful Voice: A Study in the Writer's Art, which begins with a nightmare like one I've had myself:

The night before my daughter started kindergarten, I had a nightmare. . .that I was nine months pregnant with a third child. Not just pregnant, but in labor. In typical dream-reality, I had missed the pregnancy signs until labor was imminent. My dream voice broke as I told my husband that this child would be born September third, two days after the crucial September first enrollment cut-off date. Didn't he understand? It meant that it would be almost six more years before this third child started kindergarten. Six more years before I'd have all the kids in school, before I could finally begin my new life as a writer. I woke in a sweat, grasping my belly, relieved to find it still less firm than I'd like, but not in fact, housing a third child.

In Children's Lit Book Group, Libby writes about a different transition, as kids finish school and move away from home:

It's back to school time around here. Four of my friends have packed sons or daughters off to college for the first time and are learning how to reconfigure patterns set over the last eighteen years of parenthood. As my friends face their new version of parenthood, their children have the gift of an extended transition, a prolonged adolescence as they negotiate the four years of college.

This month's poems focus on a place dear to my heart: the kitchen! In Elizabeth Bruno’s Kitchen Daffodils: "their necks tilt Vincent-gold toward the glass." In Cookie Bakers, Lois Parker Edstrom listens to "radio tuned to Queen for a Day". I empathize with Yvonne Pearson who writes, in Eaten Alive, "All day I feed and I feed." And finally Ann Walters notes, In the Kitchen, "A gingham tablecloth makes a fine parachute."

And finally, I confess I got as caught up as the next girl in the gossip and hoopla surrounding Sarah Palin's nomination as VP on the Republican ticket: I was up late reading blogs, looking at pictures, wondering what to make of the story, all the while feeling increasingly queasy about the way she and her family were being portrayed -- and all my reading about it. So, since I'm in the fortunate position of knowing lots of good and thoughtful writers, I suggested to LM's columns editors that we put put out a call for some op-eds on the topic, and I'm delighted with the pieces we received this week.

First, we have our own Subarctic Mama, Nicole Stellon O'Donnell, unpacking "The Sarah Myth:"

I never voted for Sarah Palin. Politically, we don't get along... But I did like her. I've never liked any politician so unlike myself so much. Many of my liberal pro-choice mom friends liked her too. She was an Alaskan after all--a mom like me, bundling babies in snowsuits and dragging them around in sleds. She nursed and governed. She seemed real, someone who, despite our differences, I could talk to. Like everyone else in this giant, small state, I was on a first name basis with her. "Sarah," I'd say if I ever ran into her at the airport, "Hello."

And in a terrific complement to her piece, Mama, PhD contributor Rebecca Steinitz writes about "Sarah Palin's Kids, Our Kids:"

On the third night of the Republican National Convention, Sarah Palin finally spoke up. The next morning I woke up to a front-page article in The Boston Globe, announcing that Sarah Palin has reignited the mommy wars.

No kidding. Birth plans, breastfeeding, working moms, teenagers and sex: it's like the national conversation has become one big mommy kaffeklatsch. Or one big mommy driveby, as women across the country wonder how Palin does it--when they're not condemning her for doing it.

I couldn't be prouder of all this writing if I'd written it myself; click on over to Literary Mama to check it out!

Labels: literary mama, mothering, reading, sarah palin, writing

Months ago, the lovely and talented Gail Konop Baker, a former Literary Mama columnist, invited Elrena and me to guest blog at The Debutante Ball, a group blog for writers publishing their first book. It was a fun post to write -- and I hope a fun post to read! Here's an excerpt from "3,000 Miles, Two Writers, One Book:"

Meet over email. Of course; you live, after all, 3,000 miles apart, but it helps our relationship get into writing right away. We are literally words on a page (screen) to each other for the first year of our collaboration (we don’t even talk on the phone!) It doesn’t hurt that we meet via Elrena’s submission to the section of Literary Mama that Caroline is editing at the time.

Meet when one of you is pregnant. This helps get the conversation personal, pronto, as Caroline cautions Elrena that she might not get back to her very promptly with edits.

Don’t always stick to the point. We know we are both writers, and mothers, and if we’d stayed on topic it might have stayed at that. Instead, we digress into breastfeeding and parenting and graduate school and ivory tower life — and friendship. And then, ultimately, a book.

Click on over to The Debutante Ball to read the rest!

Labels: literary mama, mama phd

We've published three terrific new columns this week. I'm particularly grateful for the sensitive, sadly timely Me and My House:

As I nurse my son, I think about women as priests, as deacons, and I think about women who lay no claim to such titles, but whose lives show forth the same devotion. Women who gladly give of themselves in the service of others. For the past few weeks I haven't needed to venture outside of my house to find a community of people to care for me; women have brought the Body of Christ to me.

Click on over to Literary Mama to read more.

Labels: literary mama

One of the unexpected pleasures of moving up the masthead to Senior Editor of Literary Mama has been getting to correspond with all the other department editors about pieces they're considering for publication. It's been particularly enlightening for me to work with our poetry editor, Sharon Kraus, since my formal poetry education is limited--aside from the odd 2-week unit on poetry in one class or another--to one college seminar on Walt Whitman and Emily Dickinson, plus reading my dad's work. I still remember how he responded when I wrote him about an English class in which we were studying e.e. cummings: he wrote me a sonnet about how he would teach poetry!

So when Maria Scala, one of Literary Mama's columns editors, said she was interested in exchanging reviews of recent publications, I jumped at the chance, though I had to warn her -- and now caution you readers --that I can't write very knowledgeably about the form. I respond to what I like, pause to admire unexpectedly effective word choices, remember images that resonate with me. I read her chapbook, Between O and V, straight through over lunch the other day, which is not at all how one should read poetry, I think, but speaks to the appeal of Maria's writing. Reading these poems felt rather like sitting down with a beautiful bowl of ripe cherries, not wanting to stop consuming them till they were gone, and then sitting still, satisfied, for a time at the end.

There's a mood of concern in some of these pieces, a sense of worry about the future, which speaks to me (I'm the one who's got a fortune which reads "You are worrying about something that is not going to happen" taped to her laptop, remember?). "I'm not long for this world / if I don't have you" goes one stanza; or in a poem titled "Nonna," in which a mother tries to busy herself away from thoughts of grief, "I fear for the day / when I have to make myself / forget this way." Deep sigh.

The perspective in these pieces feels familiar to me; it's a voice old enough to see her parents clearly, as people apart from being parents, and now starting to reconsider some of the impressions and ideas of her childhood. These are moving poems about relationships and writing, particularly interested in family, but there's a light touch to them, in pieces like "House Rules," which begins simply "Stick together." Or the sweetly funny "Now I Am Married," in which the narrator, her husband away on business, "awakens[s] in the middle of the night / cold and surprised / heartbroken too: / remembering how good it is / to accidentally elbow you in the head / so that I can kiss it better." I loved "My Friend Is Left-Handed," which made me laugh, in the context of these carefully-observed pieces, with its opening line: "After all this time, / I never noticed."

But my favorite is perhaps "My Literary Uncle," which ends, "I pare down each experience / hoping to leave / a lovely mess of shavings / behind." This collection is a lovely mess of shavings indeed, and then some.

Labels: book reviews, literary mama, reading

Saturday started like any other day. Eli came thumping down the hall at first light and climbed into bed with his patch blanket and blue bear for a wriggly cuddle. "Is it a school day?" he asked after a bit. "No, sweetie, it's not," I answered. "That means I can watch a show!" he crowed. So he jumped and I hauled myself out of bed and downstairs we went, where he settled on to the couch with his "show snack" of dry cereal and a sippy cup of milk. I turned on the TV, ready to read him the titles of the 26 episodes of Oswald we've recorded for him to choose from for his weekend morning's entertainment.

But before I could get to the Tivo screen, there was Hillary Clinton, bowing out of the race for president, and I sat back down on the couch, momentarily deflated.

"Mama?" Eli asked after a moment, puzzled that his beloved blue octopus wasn't yet on screen. "Mama, please tell me the choices?"

"Just a minute, sweetheart; I want to watch this. This is very important."

Soon Ben and Tony were downstairs, too, and we all watched the speech: Eli, bored and impatient, Tony providing running commentary to Ben (who's been an easy Obama supporter ever since his kindergarten teacher put a campaign sign on the classroom door), and me with surprised tears in my eyes. Because despite my ambivalence about Clinton as a candidate, I found myself profoundly sad to see her candidacy end. Her candidacy – despite the terribly sexist coverage it attracted – put an end, finally, to the question of whether, as Gail Collins put it, "it’s possible for a woman to go toe-to-toe with the toughest male candidate in a race for president of the United States. Or whether a woman could be strong enough to serve as commander in chief." Her candidacy made it clear that a women, indeed a mother, could govern the United States, and it inspired me.

Happily, I have plenty left to be inspired by. I can support an exciting candidate for president, and I can dive into lots of terrific reading in the wonderfully timely and engaging . Now, I should admit that I am a completely subjective reader: many of the contributions in this anthology are by excellent writers whom I consider friends, women I know from my work at Literary Mama. And the book is edited by my fabulous partner in the work of managing the site, Shari MacDonald Strong. But, despite my subjectivity, I'm still a very critical reader; I've probably read over a dozen anthologies in the last year alone, and having now edited one myself, I've formed strong opinions on aspects ranging from cover design to essay length to a book's organization.

You can all judge for yourselves what a great cover The Maternal Is Political has; the book gets other little things right, too. It offers reader-friendly sections, titled Believe, Teach and Act – words that move me, that get me thinking about the ways that I believe, teach and act just by reading them. It offers a reader-friendly variety of essay length and tone, from the 2 ½ page day-in-the-life account from Benazir Bhutto (reading how competently she moved through a day of governing and mothering made me mourn her all over again) or Cindy Sheehan's sharp critique of the progressive left in "Good Riddance, Attention Whore," to the more leisured reflection of Shari MacDonald Strong's thoughtful "Raising Small Boys in a Time of War" or Barbara Kingsolver's funny, smart "A Letter to My Daughter at Thirteen."

And with all this writing, The Maternal Is Political gets the big thing right, too. It's great writing, cover to cover. It's all here--gender politics, sexual politics, school politics, adoption politics, religious politics, body politics, community politics, family politics, social politics—but with a mix of tone and approach that makes the book a real pleasure to read. Rather than weighing you down with the utter importance of it all, these writers make you want to think critically, get up off the couch, make a phone call, sign a petition. Do good in the world, and teach your children how to do good, also.

And that part's not so hard, really. These essays remind us that our children are our constant witnesses, and so why not take subtle advantage of that while they're young, as in Gayle Brandeis' "Trying Out," or in Jennifer Graf Groneberg's quietly forceful "Politics of the Heart," which relates moving through a regular day with her three children while following the news of a state assembly bill that would affect her ability to home school them:

At noon, another email update from MCHE arrived, explaining that the crowd had moved to the Capitol. I fed Carter a grilled cheese sandwich, and I fed the babies pears and green beans and bits of Ritz crackers in their high chairs, thinking about how flimsy my position felt—I was fighting for the right to educate my son, but I had nothing to go on but a mother's intuition, a mother's love.

In some of the essays, the children taught are sometimes older, and sometimes not the writer's own. Amy L. Jenkins, in "One Hundred and Twenty-Five Miles," describes how she took advantage of the confined space of a road trip to work on a young man's views of gender roles. In Gigi Rosenberg's "Signora," she speaks up, in halting Italian, to break up a charged moment on a bus, and Anne Lamott wonders briefly if she's gone too far, but is then reassured: "During the reception, an old woman came up to me and said, "If you hadn't spoken out, I would have spit," and then raised her fist in the power salute. We huddled for a while and ate M&Ms to give us strength. It was a communion for those of us who continue to believe that civil rights and equality, and even common sense, may somehow be sovereign one day."

All of these women write about families, but I was especially moved by stories of creating families, or asserting them in the face of challenges. I teared up at the end of Kathy Briccetti's wonderfully rich detailing of her family's complicated adoption history, which culminates in one of California's first second-parent adoptions. And Ona Gritz, who writes a gorgeous monthly column for Literary Mama, writes matter-of-factly about the casual discrimination she faces every day:

Here is what I want to believe. That Lois didn't think blond, blue-eyed Ethan and I were related because of my dark hair and eyes. Or that I look too young to be the mother of a two-year-old (even though I'm thirty-six). But there is another, more likely explanation, and I can feel myself squelch it down. To Lois's mind, a disabled woman can't be a mother. The disable are dependent and asexual. They are like children themselves.

I cannot stop thinking about the striking image of street children in Violeta Garcia-Mendoza's poetic yet also clear-eyed account of a trip to Guatemala to adopt her first child:

I don't expect the street children to whisper. I don't expect them to approach us like they do, bumping against each other somnolently, like fish. Opening and closing their hands instead of their mouths. Some of them hold hands with a smaller sibling, tethering themselves together to make sure they don't get separated in the crowd. They try out a handful of English words on us—"hello," "please"—before they learn I speak Spanish. Then they ask for money for milk, for medicine. Their skin is dull, inflamed in places, their lips chapped, hair tangled and matted; their feet are bare. They don't swarm but quietly press against us with their soft por favores and gracias.

And finally, I come back again and again to the strong and simple words of Shari MacDonald Strong's introduction: "…If my life as a mother of three children has taught me one thing, it's that there is no more powerful act than mothering. There is no greater reason than my children for me to become politically involved, and there is no more important work to put my efforts to than those things that will make this world a better, safer place for my kids." "Vote Mother," Shari writes; indeed. Share this with the mothers you know, and their partners, friends, and children, and remind them: it's time to get political.

For more reviews, plus an interview with Shari MacDonald Strong, check out MotherTalk this week.

Labels: literary mama, mothertalk, politics, reading