The Write Spot Blog by Marlene Cullen

Tag: The Write Spot

  • Making sense of something senseless

    I have re-read a Wall Street Journal article numerous times since its publication, July 2024, partly because of the subject, mostly because of the riveting way it was written . . . the account of the days before and after Rachel Zimmerman’s husband’s death by his own hand.

    “As a health reporter, I wrote years ago about a study that showed the psychological benefits of storytelling. I was fascinated by research that found that people felt differently about themselves and their lives when they reframed their stories so that they were agents, not victims or bystanders. Essentially, the story matters less than how we tell it to ourselves.” Rachel Zimmerman, “A Decade Ago, My Husband Killed Himself. Could I Have Stopped it?” The Wall Street Journal, July 6-7, 2024

    As Zimmerman wrote, “This is my effort to make sense of something senseless.”

    Both Zimmerman and Samantha Rose (Giving Up The Ghost) wrote about extremely difficult subjects with an eloquence that makes their writing and their stories memorable.

    The trick to writing about hard topics is to practice self-care while writing.

    Tips when writing is challenging:

    On The Write Spot website:

    How to write about difficult events without adding trauma

    Book Six in The Write Spot series:  Writing as Path to Healing

    Books by Rachel Zimmerman

    Us, After: A Memoir of Love and Suicide

    Editor/co-author, The Healing Power of Storytelling: Using Personal Narrative to Navigate Illness, Trauma and Loss

    “If we write about our pain, we heal gradually, instead of feeling powerless and confused, and we move to a position of wisdom and power.” — Louise DeSalvo, Writing as a Way of Healing

  • Seasonal Considerations in 14 Stanzas

    Memorable writing that sparks imagination. Lean in. Hear the writer’s voice on the page.

    Seasonal Considerations in 14 Stanzas

    By Christine Renaudin

    Yesterday’s rain was announced,
    yet came as a surprise,
    we’ve grown so used to dreading drought and fire.

    Yesterday’s rain was a gift
    early for the wet season,
    tardy for the thirsty and parched.

    Yesterday’s rain relieved anxieties,
    expectations, released myriads of winged
    insects dancing in today’s afternoon sunlight.

    Some are termites, I think, roused by the premature sprinkle.
    They flutter aimlessly as if lost in the midst of dream.
    In two hours, I hear, their wings will fall and drop them home to thrive or die.

    Yesterday’s rain took us inside
    trading shade for shelter
    to share a Sunday lunch with friends.

    Today the sun glistens over puddles,
    the air feels clean, cobwebs glitter,
    alive with earthy fragrances.

    Breath deepens, heart quickens,
    there is a bounce in the season:
    I want to catch its tune.

    Soon the grass will grow green again
    before the first frosty mornings,
    as usual I wish for a drizzle on my birthday.

    Inside, a child wonders,
    tracing California with a finger on a blue rug:
    “the world does not fit on a rug.

    Too many maps crowding Wikipedia
    telling stories of migrations
    —atoms, animals, tectonic plates, people—

    Over centuries and beyond
    six thousand years old for some,
    several billion years for many, many, most others.

    The world is worth a million maps before one rug is born
    out of the weaver’s hand or the machine that replaced it,”
    the child pursues aloud within mother’s earshot.

    My child has grown, she thinks,
    like grass on October Sundays
    between new and full moon.

    I see the fruit of the buckeye dangling like tiny lanterns in the dusky sky;
    soon persimmons will hang round and orange in naked branches,
    like ornaments out of season glowing through morning fog or against bright blue skies.

    Christine Renaudin’s writing has been featured in several of The Write Spot’s Sparks, as well as in The Write Spot anthologies:  “Discoveries,” and “Musings and Ravings From a Pandemic Year,”  available at your local bookseller and on Amazon (print and as an e-reader).

    Christine lives, writes, and paints in Petaluma, CA. She is also a dancer. Her most recent performances in 2022 include Sunset in Spring (Fort Bragg, May 2022), The Slow Show (San Francisco, September 2022), Run, Or Don’t (San Francisco, April 2023).An avid practitioner of Contact Improvisation, she facilitates the monthly West Marin Contact Improvisation Jam at The Dance Palace in Point Reyes Station. She loves to see these various practices interact and inform her art-making process.

  • Caring and sharing . . . Prompt #756

    Caring and sharing make emotional journeys bearable.

    Write about a time someone made you feel cared for.

    Or, a time you showed care and concern.

    Bonus points if it was a surprise.

  • Change . . . Scary or exciting?    Prompt #748

    Is change scary or exciting for you?

    With a palpitating heart, sweaty palms, and a fluttering stomach, I changed the name of my Facebook/Meta Writing Page from “Writers Forum” to:

    “Marlene Cullen’s Write Spot,”

    to better reflect what this Facebook page is about.

    But, I wonder, why was I nervous . . . okay . . . scared to do this?

    I think the answer is: Consequences.

    I didn’t know if it would trigger an avalanche of problems.

    I was willing to take my changes.

    Sometimes you just have to take the plunge and make a change.

    Writing Prompt:

    Is change scary or exciting?

    Or:

    Sometimes you have to take the plunge.

    Write about a time you took a chance and made a change. What happened?

    #justwrite #iamawriter #iamwriting

  • Shadows, fears, insecurities . . . Prompt #736

    “We all have shadows, fears, insecurities, and doubts. Acceptance of them all leads us to realizing an unconditional love for ourselves.

    When we can begin to love the parts of ourselves that we’ve deemed to be unlovable, when we invite in our shadows and let them know they are welcome, when we acknowledge and become curious to our fears, doubts, and insecurities, then we begin to realize that our innate nature (Love) has the capacity to hold them all.

    Everything within us is part of us. When we accept this, our true nature is revealed.” —Alister Gray

    Writing Prompt: Explore your fears, doubts, and insecurities as a curious child would explore sand, rain, flowers.

    Observe. Imagine. Create.

    Invite your shadow self to peek around the corner. Take a deep breath in. Let it out. Another deep breath in. Hold for a moment. Release.

    Acknowledge your fears, doubts, and insecurities.

    Give words to these thoughts.

    What does fear look like?

    What does doubt feel like?

    How does feelings of insecurity affect you, and your work, and your relationships?

    Let your thoughts dance on your page as you explore these feelings.

    As you write, remember to take deep breaths and release.

    Release your fears, doubts, and insecurities.

    Let them go.

    Alister Gray shares videos on Instagram related to the 8 Stages of I Am Love.

    Just Write!

    #iamwriting #iamawriter #justwrite

  • Herald

    Memorable writing that sparks imagination. Lean in. Hear the writer’s voice on the page.

    Herald

    By Su Shafer

    After all these years

    She’s letting go

    No more worrying

    If she’s too fat

    Or too old

    Or what he’s thinking

    Or feeling

    Or if he’s alive or dead

    No more waiting

    For the rock to roll

    The hope when it moved a little

    But found a new dead end to be still

    So she’s letting go

    Dropping the over-packed luggage

    She carried with both hands

    For so long

    Her arms feel like wings

    As she walks in the sun

    Her steps so light, she might take flight

    On her way to the mailbox

    She sees a golden jewel beetle

    Resting on the sidewalk

    A living gem that stuns her breathless

    Spreading amber wings, it lifts effortlessly

    Into the air and buzzes regally away

    Sometimes messengers are more beautiful

    Than you can imagine

    She closes her eyes and takes

    A deep, deep breath

    Has the air ever been so fresh?

    Su Shafer is a creative crafter, fabricating bits of writing in poetry and short stories, and other bits into characters that appear in paintings or sit on various bookshelves and coffee tables. She lives in a cottage on the Olympic Peninsula of Washington, where the tea kettle is always whistling and the biscuits freshly baked.  One never knows who might stop by to share a rainy afternoon.

  • Push Past The Fluff

    When you are freewriting and there is more time to write, but you feel ready to stop . . . try to keep going. Push the limits. Push past the urge to go no farther.

    After the fluff is written, deeper writing can happen. Perhaps a doorway to intuitive writing will open.

    One of the benefits of writing fine details when freewriting, besides exploration and discovering forgotten items, is that details are what make stories interesting and make them come alive.

    I Feel Statements
    The reason for “I feel” statements in freewrites is that this is a way to learn and access your emotions about what happened. This is what personal essay or  memoir writing is all about. The facts are interesting, but what the reader wants to know is:

    ~ What the narrator gained

    ~ The narrator’s emotions

    ~ What lesson was learned

    ~ The epiphany or the “aha” moment

    Freewrites

    The Freedom of Freewrites

    Freewrites: Opening Doors to Discoveries

    Just Write!

    #amwriting #justwrite #iamawriter

  • My Secret Cottage

    Memorable writing that sparks imagination. Lean in. Hear the writer’s voice on the page.

    My Secret Cottage

    By Kathy Guthormsen

    I open the back door to dew sparkling in the morning sun and hints of rainbows shimmering in the lingering mist. They let me catch a fleeting glimpse before their magic fades. Goosebumps raise along my bare arms as I race through the grass and turn to look at my wet footprints. The sun will soon erase this evidence of my footsteps. I won’t be followed as I skip through an imaginary forest to my secret cottage at the far end of an enchanted glade.

    Rabbit hops along next to me hoping for the reward of a carrot. Cat slinks across the trail, hunting. She’d like to catch Rabbit, but he’s bigger than she is. And wilier. I raise my hand to shade my eyes and turn in a circle. Do I hear something stalking me? I look up and see Eagle soaring through the blue watching after me. I wave and continue along my path.

    My secret cottage is just ahead. An abandoned pump house my father moved to our back yard. He made window boxes and added a covered porch. I swept cobwebs and evicted spiders. Dad carried out a child sized table and chairs. I brought toys and plastic dishes. This is my place. Where I hide from pirates and make friends with birds. Where I hold parties for my dolls and my much-loved teddy bear. Where I serve mud soup and rock cookies. Where adult voices are not heard; adult eyes are not allowed.

    My cottage has faded into the mist of memories. The pump house is small, now derelict, with peeling paint and a warped plywood floor. But I can still visit in my dreams.

    Kathy Guthormsen is the creator of “The Story of Jazz and Vihar.”

    Her writing has been published in several The Write Spot anthologies.

    These books are available from your local bookseller and Amazon.

    You can meet Kathy, and possibly Poe and other birds:

    May 21, 1:00 pm to 3:00 pm: Children’s Museum of Sonoma County, 1835 W. Steele Lane, Santa Rosa, CA

    Date to be determined:  Copperfield’s Books, 144 Kentucky St., Petaluma, CA

    Growing up in Skagit Valley, Washington with its verdant farmland gave Kathy an appreciation for the promise and beauty of nature’s bounty. The Cascade and Olympic mountain ranges and old growth forests offered the magic of things unseen and fostered her fertile imagination.

    When she isn’t writing, Kathy volunteers at the Bird Rescue Center in Santa Rosa, California, working with and presenting resident raptors as part of their education and outreach program. Walking around with a hawk or an owl on her fist is one of her favorite pastimes.

    She maintains a blog, Kathy G Space, where she occasionally posts essays, short stories, and fairy tales.

  • Jon Batiste, radar, and writing

    Jon Batiste

    “I believe this to my core, there is no best musician, best artist, best dancer, best actor,” he began. “The creative arts are subjective and they reach people at a point in their lives when they need it most. It’s like a song or an album is made and it’s almost like it has a radar to find the person when they need it the most.” — Jon Batiste, during his 2022 Grammy winner for best album acceptance speech

    I think writing can be included in the creative arts category.

    When we’re lucky, our writing radar picks up news and events when we need them to enhance our writing.

    And that includes writing communities like The Write Spot.

    Welcome! I’m so glad you are here.

    The Write Spot Resources Page:

    Writing Blogs and Websites

    Places to submit writing

    Community groups

    Writing magazines

    ~Marlene

    #justwrite #iamwriting #iamawriter

  • Dad

    By Susan Bono

    “That’s quite a sack of rocks you’re carrying, sweetie,” my father’s friend Bruce said more than once during phone calls last year. It was his way of acknowledging how heavily Dad’s poor health, hard-headedness and self-imposed isolation weighed on me. But I also took it as a tribute to Dad’s stubbornness and my strength, too.

    “Dumb as a rock” never made much sense to me, since stone strikes me as having its own unassailable intelligence. Its ability to endure illustrates its genius. I have never believed in the ability to factor equations or compose sonnets was proof of brain power, although I shared with Dad the idea that someone with rocks in his head was lacking in foresight and flexibility. Rocks may be smart, but they are slow. Time measured in stone is something else again.

    There were moments during my dad’s dying that were as slow as serpentine, sandstone, rose quartz, chert. His unseeing eyes were obsidian, and the pauses between breaths were long enough to form fossils. But just after that great wave rolled down from the crown of his head, darkening the air around him so his spirit glowed like a white shell at the bottom of a silty river, a tear slid from beneath his closed eyelids. That’s when the sack of rocks fell empty at my feet and I was surrounded by the tumult of released wings.

    Originally published in The Flashpoints 2008 issue of Tiny Lights. This issue was dedicated to the memory of Susan Bono’s father, Morris N. Zahl (12/24/24-3/22/09), whose light guides Susan.

    Susan Bono, a California-born teacher, freelance editor, and short-form memoirist, has facilitated writing workshops since 1993, helping hundreds of writers find and develop their voices. Her work has appeared online, on stage, in newspapers, on the radio, and in anthologies, including The Write Spot series.

    Susan is the author of “What Have We Here: Essays About Keeping House and Finding Home.”

    From 1995-2015, she edited and published a small press magazine called Tiny Lights: A Journal of Personal Narrative, as well as the online component that included quarterly postings of micro essays and a monthly forum dedicated to craft and process.

    She was on the board of the Mendocino Coast Writers’ Conference for more than a decade and was editor-in-chief of their journal, the Noyo River Review, for eight years. Susan often writes about domestic life set in her small town of Petaluma.