Feyen Times Newsletter 002

hello.

In April I started and quit the 100 Day Project. I’ve wanted to participate in this for a while. The idea is to try and do something creative everyday. I AM CREATIVE EVERYDAY THIS WILL BE NO PROBLEM is what I thought.

And while it is true that I do devote my days to creativity, I don’t have something to show for it every day. And even if I have written something, it’s not always ready to be shared. Plus, I realized I don’t want to be on social media everyday single day. Write everyday? Check. Share it on social media? Frankly, I’m baffled that it didn’t occur to me that this component of the project would dementor its way into my soul.

So anyway, I quit, and quitting is risky. You know what else is risky? Storytelling. In March, about 72 hours before the world became a dystopian novel, I interviewed a man who’s in his 80s and has been involved in prison ministry for over 20 years. He told me he does it because of what Jesus did for him, but the other reason had to do with a set of books he read as a little boy.

Stories can imprint themselves onto you, and that’s risky business. They have the power to make us change direction, think differently, move forward, and sometimes go back. They can make us more kind, more brave, more empathetic, more human.

The way my gig with The Banner works is I have about 300 words to tell the who, what, where, etc. of the situation. (This is a practice that is good for practitioners of Creative Nonfiction, because while we never embellish, we do prefer to take the old lady out and make her scream, instead of writing, “The old lady screamed.”) But by the time my story was to go to print, so much in the world had changed, and I wasn’t sure the story was relevant anymore. Except that this story had imprinted itself onto me, and I was invested.

So I wrote what ended up being an essay called, “A Story From Another Time,” which incorporated all the facts, but also was a sort of lament for all that’s changed, now that Covid-19 is here.

“I’m taking a risk,” I told my editor when I sent her the essay. A few hours later, she wrote back. “I’m glad you took a risk,” she wrote and explained that she’d sent the essay to another group of editors, and they decided to run the story on another part of the website, and she and I worked together to pull “just the facts” from what I’d written, so it could go in the news section.

You can read the news story here: Following Matthew 25:36 in a North Carolina Church

And the behind the scenes to the story here: A Story From Another Time.

I don’t feel bad or ashamed about quitting the 100 Day Project, and I think that tells me that maybe (possibly? perchance?) I have more confidence in myself than I thought. I’m always on the hunt for reference points for confidence so that I can store them up. Maybe quitting is a good thing.

It feels risky to say it.

Here are some other risks I took in April:

For Tweetspeak Poetry: Experience a Sonnet, An Entry On Saving the World, Unsaid Things, Baiku Poems.

For Coffee + Crumbs: You Don’t Have To Be Good

read well.

My friend Kristine Farnum  designed these worksheets for my girls after they read each morning, and we are still working on them. I require they respond to at least one prompt after reading. This morning, during silent reading time, Hadley was working on a friendship bracelet, and I said, “Why aren’t you reading?” She said, “Because I’m doing this.” I said, “But you’re supposed to be reading.” She said, “Well mom, I ate all my fruit at breakfast. You can’t have both.”

So parents, this is about priorities. Either encourage your kids to read, or make sure they eat their fruits and vegetables. Those of you who are able to do both during this time, these worksheets are for you.

This month I read Big Dreams Daily Joys to help me with what feels like my eternal aimless wandering regarding what it is I’m going to be when I grow up. I also read Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe for a second time. I didn’t remember a thing about the story except that one of the characters, a female, and probably about my age, creates another persona for herself named Towanda. Towanda is amazing, and I was just as captivated by her as I was when I was in my 20s reading about her. I was quite sad that it was in church when the woman lets go of Towanda. It seems that it should be in church when we realize that we can be courageous enough to turn what we love about a story we are telling ourselves into the truth.

I’m also reading Jeanine Hathaway’s book of poetry, Long after Lauds. I read a poem a day, and I journal through it. I start with what I see, hear, feel, smell, and touch. Then, I write down lines I like, what the poem reminds me of, how the poem makes me feel, and finally, the hardest prompt, what that feeling has to do with the experience of the poem as a whole. (I got these ideas from Tania Runyan’s How To Read a Poem.) Reading poetry is a luxury, especially during this time. It is the only part of the day when I get to just enjoy words, and not try to understand them.

(Not leaving links to the “Big A” here so that if you’d like to order them, you can consider your local bookstore.)

local.

I am pleased to announce that Michigan has arrived at the iced Americano season. I only drink them in the afternoon, and also with the heaviest cream available, and York makes some of the best in town. Lucky for me, it is still open, and within walking distance, so I am there quite a bit during the week.

York has been a gathering place for me for close to four years now. When we first moved to Ann Arbor, I was there most afternoons to literally gather myself after a day of teaching. It was the place where I wrote the first chapter of what is now The Teacher Diaries, and before the world turned into Panem and its many Districts, this was the place that friends and I would meet for happy hour, or lunch, or coffee, or all of it. York has done a lot of changing over the years, but I think that so have I. It feels like a pretty safe metaphor for the consistency of change.

One afternoon in April, I ran past the cafe and the owner was outside. He waved and said, “Keep up the good work!” I waved back and said, “You, too!”

It’s good to know a place that is lively and changing while you yourself are going through the same thing.

offerings.

Writing Intensives, Mini Writing Intensives, a writing challenge, a couple of self-paced courses….there’s a little bit of something for writers of all levels.

With each touch point, Callie creates ripples of kindness, leaving her students more loved and encouraged than before. Personally, I don’t know what I would have done without her support and guidance this year. Callie’s instruction and thoughtful feedback helped me grow as a writer and person. We connected during a challenging chapter in my life, one that I think is coming to a close. As we turn the page to a new year, I know that I’m braver because I met her. – Erin, Writing Intensive Participant

Also, on Tweetspeak this month, I’ll be leading a book club on Nicole Gulotta’s Wild Words. This is for those who are Patron subscribers. Find more out here.

twirl + the teacher diaries

I love Callie’s writing, and Twirl did not disappoint. Her descriptions capture your attention as she reads between the lines of her daily life, searching for the stories that will give structure and purpose. Callie writes like no one else I know, digging through her own past like an archeologist, examining her present like a detective, confident that if she can pay attention hard enough and tell the story well enough (she can) it will make all the difference in the world to herself as well as to her readers (it does).

This, from my friend and writing colleague, Jessica Kantrowitz, whose book The Long Night comes out in less than 20 days. I can’t wait to read this book. Jessica’s writing is the kind of writing you sit up and pay attention to, but you do it in the most cozy of environments – a coffee shop, or well lit pub. It’s the kind of writing that’s going to make you bravely dive deep and hunt for hope. (Also, there’s a fantastic picture on the social medias of Abby Wambach holding a copy of Jessica’s book. If that’s not the equivalent of shooting a last second goal for a writer, I’m really not sure what is.)

Here’s to taking more risks and maybe even quitting a thing or two in May.