The local morning paper held a surprise today. Right there on the front page was a familiar face. Not the people and pets photo – the “Moving forward by looking to the past” article on the right hand side. I was so excited to see this article that I almost choked on my coffee.
Jill Morris teaches memoir classes. I am pleased to be a part of her advanced writer’s group which will resume this fall. She’s a fantastic teacher but for quite some time we wondered if she was ever going to get her memoir on the market. “It’s coming out soon,” she’d say. We waited patiently. Finally the release announcement came to my inbox.
I ordered “Eating the Walls Breaking free from the ghosts of the past” on Amazon, expedited delivery since I couldn’t wait another day – plus I was leaving on vacation and definitely needed to take it with me. If it were on Kindle, I would have read it that night. I am woefully addicted to instant gratification. Jill assures me it will be available on Kindle later. Meanwhile, I packed the paperback edition in my carryon and devoured it between beach visits. You know how people go to Kauai and come back with golden tans? Could I blame my lily white tones on this memoir?
The book is all that I expected from Jill. It’s a powerful and inspirational story of moving forward after the tragedy of her husband’s suicide. Her narrative is a fascinating portrayal of this journey with her two small children. Grief and humor cross the seas. I’ll be looking forward to her next memoir.
Now back to those classes Jill teaches. Her book is out. You know her style. Her encouragement and gentle critique will entice you to finish yours.
Returning to California summer after eight days of tropical greenery and wide open beaches of Kauai shocks the body into reality. Temps reached 100 here today. It seems hotter than the humid 85 in Kauai. I long to plunge into the ocean. I’d settle for a pool which gives me second thoughts about the burial of our pool a few years ago.
The sunrise alarm of Kauai’s colorful roosters is replaced with these turkey youngsters outside my bedroom window calling for their mom. They spent the morning with cries of abandonment. Maybe mama turkey couldn’t take it anymore. Maybe she needed a morning off. Late morning we heard her call, far off down the hillside. I watched the young ones mindfully waddle down the driveway.
So why did I include “20 Minutes” in my title? Because the last four weeks I committed to the exercise of writing 20 minutes a day. Everyday but Sunday. I managed to do this in spite of an eight day vacation proving to myself that I can find 20 minutes out of 24 hours. Not always easy, and sometimes writing into the late hours, but the course is complete. I thank my instructor, Len, from Story Circle Network for offering this class. Len offers a binder full of lessons, generous feedback and gentle reminders. If you need inspiration, go there. Check it out. You won’t be disappointed.
I can’t promise 20 Minutes a day posted here. My priority is to finish the first draft of my memoir before Labor Day. But, you can be sure I will be writing 20 minutes a day somewhere.
I think I hear the turkeys calling. Later.