"Step by step, we make our way." ― Kate Mosse

Step by step, walking the labyrinth in Avila Beach
(where we went a few weeks ago for Dave's birthday).

You know it's time to leave when you've used up the barbecue sauce, mayonnaise, and salad dressing.

We just ate our last dinner in our Santa Cruz Love Nest:  Dave's succulent ribs, roasted veggies, and colossal artichokes.  We like to dip our artichokes in mayonnaise (our only use of it)--and, miraculously, we finished off the ancient jar.

What a red-letter 24 hours, considering I also signed my retirement papers this afternoon!

As I write this on the couch in dim light, I'm aware of how we gave away our standing lamp.  Other things we gave away today include  deck chairs, beach chairs, a beach umbrella, two bags of clothes, and a potting table.

I remember buying that potting table years ago when I was living on my own for the first time in fifteen years, following my divorce.

Now here I am, happily married to Dave and about to embark on a world travel adventure.  The past me could barely dream such things.  I'm grateful to have learned and grown so much that I can see how creating the life you want is possible.

Friday morning, the movers come to put our stuff in storage.  Friday afternoon, we fly to L.A., and then two days later we'll be in Australia.

Step by step, we've made our way to this point.  We don't know how long we'll be living a traveling life.  What we do know is that for at least a year we will be seeing what it feels like to live as adventurers without a home base, visiting friends all over the world, and making new ones wherever we go.

Start with this idea: "It's Possible."

Taking the leap while zip-lining with our friend Stella!

The grocery store clerk asked me what I was up to today.  I said, "Packing."  This led to my sharing with him that we are leaving home in a week to travel the world.

Most everyone says they are excited for us.  Some tell me about a time they traveled extensively or lived overseas.  

The rest say one or all of these things:

"I'm jealous!"

"I dream of doing that one day!"

"I wish I could do that!"

I say, "Well, you should!"  

Sometimes they smile.  Sometimes they look at me like, You are crazy...you have no idea how impossible that would be for me because of x, y & z.

For years Dave and I have traveled a lot.  Before we met, he went scuba diving and followed his favorite band all over the world.  When I was 29, I sold everything I owned and moved to Japan to teach English.  I also spent time in Mexico, and traveled alone to Hawaii and Europe.  In other words, we unknowingly were preparing for this moment.  Wherever you put your energy, there you are...

Also for the past few years, I've been looking at a lot of pictures of lovely places I want to visit and things I want to do.  I began cutting them out of magazines or printing them out, and pasting them into a scrapbook.  

When I came across that scrapbook recently, I realized most everything in it had come true:  I'd learned to ski and spent a lot of time in the mountains, we'd gone on several cruises, we'd ziplined and wine-tasted, we swam with dolphins and a manta ray, we'd enjoyed beautiful gatherings with friends old and new, and we'd gotten married on the beach in Hawaii...I'd gathered images of versions all of those things because I thought they were lovely, not because I was attached to them happening.  But indeed, they did.

Also the past few years, I've been reading a lot of blogs written by people who live a traveling life.  One couple rode their bikes from Argentina to Alaska...with their twin 8-year-old boys!  One family has lived in eight countries and grown their family by five children along the way.  One is a single woman who goes wherever the winds take her.  One followed her dream to move to Costa Rica without being exactly sure how it was going to work...and years later she takes people on whale and dolphin tours.

For a few years, when I'd bump into to my friend Tiffany at the California university where we both taught, she'd talk about loving to travel and wanting to teach overseas.  That desire, that focus, led to her living the dream when she got a job teaching in Korea.

There are so many ways to make the world your home.  Some people have specific jobs.  Some people make a living online. Some create new jobs where they are.  Some work a little here and there.  Some live on their life savings.  Some join the Peace Corps.  Some live happily on a shoestring.

I noticed that many people experienced a specific event to prompt them to change their lives:  loss of a job, a divorce, death of a loved one, an illness. 

Powerful stuff.  Then again, why wait for such a harsh reminder of the evanescence of life?

One thing all these travelers have in common is that they took the leap.  

So many of these people share their adventures online.  That's why the internet is such a great resource for how to get ideas to make it happen for you.

At the same time, no one can tell you how it can work for you.  You have to start with the idea that it's possible, without worrying about wrestling all the details to the ground.  

Start with the feeling, then the knowing, that you can create the life you want.  Then everything will start to fall into place.  

The minute you say, I'd love to do that, but I can't, you've roadblocked your dream.

Why not say, I'd love to do that! without attaching a "but"?  Focusing on your limitations makes them feel insurmountable.

Instead, use the magic of stories and pictures and conversations to inhabit your wishes.  If extended travel is what you crave, relish short road trips and live your daily life as though you are an adventurer.  Joyfully swimming around within the space of your desires will help your dreams to become your reality.

Sexiest Koala Alive

Proof you can Google anything and find it.

I just discovered that my blog entry with the most all-time hits is "How to be a Chick Magnet."  I'm imagining how many Googlers are disappointed when they hit my site and find no pictures of hot chicks, and no advice on how to pick up women.

As we're traveling and I'm blogging, perhaps I need to create spicy titles for my pieces to increase my blog traffic.

In Australia:  "Sexiest Koala Alive."

In Hong Kong:  "Land of Lingerie."

In Chennai, India:  "HOT!!!!  (And I don't mean just the food and weather!)"

I just Googled "Hot in Chennai", and the results display an interesting mix of weather, food and other hot things with links that look like one click would blow up your computer with viruses.

Perhaps the labels I just attached to this post will boost it to the #1 spot in short order.

At any rate, since people have been asking:  Yes, for sure, I will be writing as Dave and I trot the globe.  You can follow me by putting your email in the little box at the right-top of this blog.

Or follow me on Google or Facebook or Twitter.  Or go to my website and click on "blog."

Obviously, I'm all over the internet.  So even if you don't want to follow our travels deliberately, you'll probably trip over one of my stories somewhere.  And if that happens, I hope you enjoy it and aren't too disappointed that the story doesn't live up to the racy title.

Are you Excited? Frantic? Scared? (The One We Feed)

"Are you excited?"  That's what many of my friends ask me when I mention we will be leaving to travel the world in less than two weeks.

Also:  "Are you frantic?"

And:  "Are you scared?"

For the most part, my answer to all three is "No."  Here's why:

Excited?

Actually, the answer is "yes and no."  I think this is because I'm seeing every bit of life as part of the journey.  So I'm not waiting for the journey to start.  I'm experiencing it now.  And when we step on the plane June 2 to fly to Australia, I think it will feel less like being shot out of a cannon and more like turning a page.

There are so many things to be excited about right now:

Bon Voyage Mode

I'm excited about all the get-togethers with friends. Many of these were planned prior to our decision to travel, so they have serendipitously turned into bon voyages.  And I find myself cherishing this time with friends since who knows when we'll meet again?  Knowing we are leaving adds an extra sweetness.  But of course, even if we're not leaving, we never know what the future holds.  So perhaps the trick is to always be in bon voyage mode!

Dave's surprise birthday party in bon voyage mode

Gifting Mode

I'm also cherishing gifting stuff to friends and strangers.  Yesterday, when Dave and I went to the home of friends for dinner, we brought them our fireplace accoutrements and a set of china I knew I'd never use.  These friends have just bought a new home (with three fireplaces!) and are very much in the nesting mode.  We knew these items belonged in their house.  It was lovely to see them happy about the gifts and to know pieces of us will be incorporated into their lives.

One of my friends posted on Facebook that he wanted camping equipment.  Dave said, "How about I give him mine?  I won't be using it."  So the other day, the friend came over to collect the tent, backpack, and various other equipment.  He stayed for a beer, and we had a rich and fun conversation.  Probably the most amazing conversation we've ever had. 

I've been giving books to friends I think would like them.  And recently I posted on Facebook, To keep or toss my yearbooks, that is the question?  And two high school classmates mentioned they lost their yearbooks, so I am going to mail a couple to each of them.

I'm learning that gifting stuff in a meaningful way is a powerful human connector.  This is part of the journey that, yes, I'm excited about.

Relishing-the-Page-I'm-On Mode

I've also been relishing my last days of teaching, including bringing a bottle of champagne to my final creative writing meeting, and hanging out in my office during finals week so students could come by with their papers and to say goodbye.  One student brought me flowers, and several brought me heart-felt cards.  It was so gratifying to see that many of them were inspired to write and live more richly as a result of my class.

There's nothing like champagne to make a meeting fun!  (I guess we all got a little blurry...)

As I posted on Facebook, here's how I felt the last day of class:

Yes I cried in the last class today, my last after all these years at SJSU. Yes my students gave an amazing poetry reading where we all laughed and cried and applauded. Yes I read a piece inspired by that very class. Yes we all group hugged. Yes it was more amazing than I ever dreamed it would be. Yes, my heart keeps expanding beyond dimensions I ever dreamed possible. Yes, I say yes to life.

Frantic?

Dave and I decided we were going to focus on our physical, mental and spiritual health during this time.  So we've been eating well, doing yoga, meditating, and getting a lot of sleep and fresh air.  Oh, and laughing a lot!

I believe this is why all of our preparations have been like buttah.  We take care of details when we are inspired to do so:  some packing, throwing something in the car to give to a friend, putting something on Craig's list to give away, confirming a flight, making a lodging reservation, communicating with a friend we're staying with.  And if things ever start to feel hard or jagged, we stop and come back to it later.  I have a list with some items to take care of--and when I look at it, I'm pleasantly surprised that I can strike off a few things.

Every once in a while, certain thoughts creep up on me like, Oh my god I'm going to forget something crucial!  Or Holy crap, what the hell are we in for?  Then I employ my best version of a yogi and watch that thought swim by.  I recently read that if you don't repress or act-out on a thought, it will dissipate within 90 seconds.  Ah, such freedom from my monkey mind!

Two tigers

Scared?

If a fearful thought enters my mind, my mantra is this:  I can freak out, or get curious.  Example:

Fearful thought:  Oh my god, we are going to be without a home!

Freak Out:  You'll feel lonely and lost! You're living too much on the edge! If you keep this up, you'll be homeless not by choice but for real some day!

Get Curious:  I wonder what new thing is around the corner?  I wonder what amazing people we will meet?  I wonder how we'll grow?  I wonder what new ideas of "home" we will foster and explore?


This reminds me of the the old Indian tale, in which a grandfather tells his grandchild:

"You have two tigers inside you.  One is love and compassion.  The other is fear and anger."

The grandchild asks, "Which one will win?"

He answers:  "The one we feed."

Grading Papers: The Life of an English Teacher

We all do it.

This morning I was curled up on the couch with my coffee and a stack of student papers to grade.  This scenario has been part of my life for many years.

Being an English teacher is like having perpetual homework.  In the mid 1980s, I was a high school teacher.  And everywhere I went--Sunday to my parents' house, a road trip, an afternoon at the park--I brought a stack of papers.  Not that I always graded them there.  Often I'd set my alarm for 3:30 a.m. to finish grading in a haze before I jumped in the shower.

I left teaching once, in 1989.  I said I was sick of grading papers. I got a job working for a computer publishing company.  Sitting in a cubicle under florescent lights from 9 a.m.-6 p.m. made paper grading look not too bad.  So after a year, I went to grad school and re-launched my teaching career as a college professor.

Over the years, I've tried all kinds of paper-grading tricks, such as:

* Standing while grading so that I don't get too comfortable and spend unnecessary time on the papers.   (That bombed.  It made grading feel too much like punishment.)

* Going to a cafe to grade.  (I found out if I'm going for comfort, I tend to prefer my own home.)

* Grading only in my office; never taking a paper home.  I found this not to my liking for three reasons:  1) It doesn't allow me to take advantage of one of the great things about the job:  flexibility.  I like that I'm on campus 2-3 days a week, which would have to be more if I graded only there.  2) After teaching, I am often not in the head-space to grade.  3) Before teaching, if I'm frantically grading papers, I walk into class agitated. I prefer to walk slowly to class, hot tea in hand, meditating on being open to whatever comes up. 

* Having my students write 3 strengths and weaknesses on the last page of their paper.  They are usually spot-on.  And then I don't have to write out the obvious; instead, I write "yes!" next to their comments. 

* Stapling a grading rubric to a paper and checking-off the strengths and weaknesses.  But I'm such a verbal communicator that I found it hard to replace words with checks.  A supposed time-saver became an extra step.

* Instead of correcting grammar and spelling errors, I mark an X next to the error.  I then return papers and have students (in small groups) find the problems and fix them.  If they can't figure it out, I help them.  Usually they can fix 95% of the errors this way.  And it saves me huge amounts of "editing" time.

* Having students share first drafts in small groups.  They read aloud their papers, and the group discusses questions on a worksheet.  The writer listens and takes notes.  This is one of the most successful ways to assure better quality papers because I'm honoring the writing process.

* I also have students reflect on the experience of having written by completing these statements:  "I discovered...", "I was surprised...", and "I wonder..."  We then go around the room and have each person share one insight.  This isn't a time-saving device, but it often has some amazing results that get me psyched to read their papers.

However you slice it, though, paper grading takes time.  It has its ups and downs.  It can feel like a psychological drain, but it can also be powerfully rewarding.

This morning, for example, I was reading student papers reflecting on campus literary events they attended this semester. One student wrote about poet Mark Heinlein, and how--as a result of watching Mark in action--the student feels he has found his tribe:

"I have always wondered if I was one of the only people to look at some of the smallest things in life and think about them as being something bigger than face value.  Sometimes I thought I just over-analyzed and thought about things too much, but after hearing Mark speak, and also being in a creative writing  class and getting to know Professor Evans throughout the semester, I realized that I am not alone."

This is my last week of teaching.  I'm wondering who I will be now with no stacks of papers looming on the coffee table, with no student voices resonating in my head and heart as I read on the couch, coffee in hand.

Most of my teacher friends would answer that I will be free to do more of my own writing.  This is true.  And yet I know this:  much of what I will bring to my own writing as I move to the next chapter of my life will be touched by those thousands of students whose words I responded to with my own.

For Mother's Day

Mom in her 20s (circa early 1950s), when she was a nurse in Hawaii.

With the first Mother's Day approaching since my mom stepped to the other side last August, I've been thinking about what a cool person she was.

After nursing school, she worked in Hawaii as a nurse before it was a state.  Her next job was as a nurse in Yosemite, where she met my dad. 

Later, she became a school nurse.  In that role, she taught a Sex Ed class to middle-schoolers. The kids wrote anonymous questions on cards, which she’d pull at random out of a box:

What’s an orgasm?
What do two men do when they have sex?
Can you get pregnant if you have sex standing up?

Mom would answer these questions straight-faced and seriously. I'm sure her deportment conveyed to the kids that all these taboos they giggle about, yearn for, and worry about are no big deal. They’re just part of life.

In mid-life, she took up piano lessons.  And then, with even more passion, writing.

Most evenings after dinner while Dad cat-napped in front of the TV, Mom sat before her computer. One of her first articles—“Is Your Child Ready for Kindergarten?”— came from her knowledge of screening kids for school readiness. Mom researched freelance writing, reading numerous books on how to write articles, how to publish them, how to market yourself.

Later she wrote many other articles and two books about Color Blindness (which she screened kids for as a school nurse).  Still later, she wrote stories, and then romance novels.  Her love for science and California crept into her fiction.

My favorite is Love’s Golden Song, a historical romance that takes place in the Gold Rush era.  The heroine is a spunky, ahead-of-her-time newspaper reporter who decries hydraulic mining; her nemesis, who becomes her love interest, is—of course—a hydraulic miner. Mom did a lot of research to write this book, and the authenticity of the details is a pleasure to read.

That one was never published, but another one was:  Dinner For Two. Taking place in the Northern California towns of my youth, it’s about a woman named Misty, her love-interest Gene who is a colorblind (!) chef, and a mystery they get embroiled in involving food poisoning at the state capital in Sacramento.

I'm glad my mom got to use her mind so much before it began to drift to another plane due to Alzheimer's.  I'm grateful we were able to spend so much time together as she shifted and changed, while she still had language.  Until she couldn't write anymore, she kept a journal about what Alzheimer's felt like.

Eventually she couldn't speak anymore.  Given how much we used words as writers and consummate communicators, this lack of language shifted our relationship onto a new plane.  It became about presence.  Eye contact.  Energy.  Touch.

My mom is still very much alive in me.  From her I've inherited a love of travel and writing and laughter and mentoring. 

I know she wants me to thrive.  I can feel her rooting me on. 

Teaching and the Butterfly Effect

Chaos Theory tells us that the movement of a butterfly's wings can affect weather patterns on the other side of the world.  Henry Adams offered similar idea when he said that "teachers affect eternity; they can never tell where their influence ends."

Here's a potent example that happened, poignantly, just a few weeks before I leave teaching:

Kirubel and me

First:  A woman I met twenty years ago in a poetry class--Carmen Gimenez Smith--was coming to our campus as a visiting writer.

As so:  I taught her memoir, Bring Down the Little Birds, in which Carmen explores her mother's interior life by writing her mother's imaginary journal entries.

And then:  I assigned my students to write three journal entries as though they were written by one of their parents.

And then:  When my student Kirubel started to write from her father's point of view, she realized that she knew his stories, but not his feelings.

And so:  She sat down with her father to talk about his rough childhood in Ethiopia with a cruel step-mother.

As he talked:  He began to illuminate his feelings more keenly.  While he could not excuse his step-mother's abuse, he realized she had been so young--only 19--when she became his step-mother.  And in short order she gave birth to eight more children.  As he spoke, he began to feel like he wanted to call his mother who was now old and ill.  He hadn't talked to her in years.

As so:  He called her. 

And:  Across continents, they talked for a long time.  Son told Mother how he felt.  Mother told son she'd always wanted to ask for forgiveness but didn't know how.

Later:  Kirubel's father told her he felt lighter, freer.  He was glad that he and his mother had talked about something that had been weighing on them both all these years.

And three days later:  His mother died.

And so:  The butterfly flapped its wings in a poetry class.  Twenty years later--through the empathic gift of stories--a daughter has connected more deeply to her father.  And her father can rest knowing there is nothing left unsaid.

How I Spent $476.50 Selling My Books (aka: it can be expensive to ignore your inner voice)

As a follow-up to the piece about giving away my table, here's another story about stuff:

I had a stack of books I felt I "should" sell.

Installation of falling books by Alicia Martin

That "should" should have been a red flag.  Usually when I feel I should do something, I have my psychic undies in a bunch.

As part of getting ready to leave home and jobs to travel the world, Dave and I have been slowly but surely paring down our already pretty pared-down life.  

Being a book maven, I have books I've carried with me from move to move to move.  Geez, they are heavy.  Yes, each one has special meaning to me.  And I guess, suddenly, I was thinking they were valuable.  And I must have been  unconsciously equating value with money.

So I called the fabulous Logos bookstore to make an appointment.  The morning of the appointment, I woke feeling like I didn't want to lug those books downtown.  I was tempted to cancel the appointment.

I started thinking about how I'd been putting aside special books that I felt "belonged" with certain friends:  the signed Gloria Steinem to the most flourishing feminist, the stack of memoirs to my nonfiction professor friend, the piles of poetry books to my poet laureate pal, the self-help stack to my friend who wants to change her mind and her life...

But for some reason, these other boxes I felt I had to sell.

If I'd listened to my inner voice, I would have cancelled the appointment and let the books sit in their boxes for a while until I was inspired to a) sell them, b) give them to students or friends, or c) donate them.

But, no, I had an appointment.

So I dragged those damn boxes into the trunk of the car.  I couldn't find a spot close to the store, so I parked illegally in the back.  Tension gives you tunnel vision:  instead of noticing Logos had dollies conveniently placed at the door, I hand-dragged each box into the store, one by one, sweating like Richard Nixon debating JFK.

The polite bookseller gave me a receipt and told me he could have my total in the afternoon.

The afternoon?  I'd have to come back?

By now I could feel I was entirely out of alignment with my inner peace.  What would have been really, really good for me would have to find Davis Sedaris book, sit in one of the store's comfy chairs, and laugh my way to feeling better.  Or get an herbal tea and walk through downtown in search of cute dogs and kids.

Instead, I got back in my car.  Good thing you can't get a DUI for driving under the influence of spiritual pandemonium.

Because I'd parked illegally, I was now blocked in.  Thus, I began to eke my car down a narrow alley that I was sure led to the next street.  Indeed it did; and the street was blocked by a huge truck with its ramp down, in unloading mode.  I was in such a tight spot I felt like I couldn't back up.  So I decided to try to get around this massive truck by squeezing by it via the sidewalk.

As I attempted this maneuver, I heard a sickening squuuueeeeeeeeeeeeee of metal on metal:  the right side of my car scraping against a light pole.

God knows why even in this intense state of stupid resistance, the universe provides me with a guardian angel.  A scruffy guy--he may have been homeless--guided me out of the mess, helping me to back up and get to the street.

I'd love to say this was my wake-up call.  That I had an enlightened epiphany that it's infinitely better to trust myself than to fight against the grain of my natural, loving, peaceful, abundant inner light.

I know I have a choice about how to respond to life:  Freak out.  Or get curious.

But apparently you don't just learn that and know it forever more.

I freaked out.  I cried.  I railed against fate.  I came home and attacked Dave, my beloved husband.

Once my tantrum simmered down, I took some deep breaths and did what would have been in my best interest to do that morning (after cancelling the book-selling appointment):  I went for a long walk on the beach.

A lot of thoughts went through my mind:  how when I would do something like dent a car as a teenager, I was worried about getting in trouble; how resisting getting rid of my books might point to unconscious fears I have about leaving home; how I identify so strongly with the written word that shedding books with no "return value" might be making wonder about my own value...

Then I sat in the sand and and watched the white peak of the waves arc then flatten into eternal blue, again and again.  I thanked my mind for trying to get to the bottom of it, and then I asked for some non-thinking time.  There I sat.  Just me.  Being.  Not figuring anything out.  Not resisting.  Just allowing the moment to unfold.

Later that afternoon, Logos gave me $23.50 for the six books they wanted.  The rest, they said, I could take back, or they would donate them to Goodwill.  I let them go.

Weeks later, we paid the $500 deductible to fix the car damage.

I got off easy.  It cost me only $476.50 to re-learn the lesson I learned as a kid:  The best way to live is not to force yourself up-river but instead to row, row, row your boat gently down the stream.

After all, life is but a dream.

The Table

My family sat around a table just like this one for all our meals for about 25 years.  Mom made dinner almost every night (always with at least two different colored vegetables), and having dinner together was a family ritual. 

We each had our "spot" at the table.  Sometimes after eating, we'd all get up and move to the next chair over.  We'd then "be" that other person:  talking the way they talked, exaggerating their mannerisms.  We'd all end up laughing and laughing.

Eventually I inherited this table.  Now that Dave and I are packing up our house to go on a worldwide travel adventure, we are getting rid of certain items, including this table.

In response to my Craigslist ad to give it away free to someone who'd be willing to come pick it up, a man who runs a sober living home for men responded.

I told him he could have it, and thanked him--telling him that I know some people whose lives have been changed by the kind of work he does. 

He wrote me back and said he does this work because he has been "blessed in abundance."  He added, "I used to live in a converted chicken coop and wanted to die.  I have been overly compensated in life and have been clean/sober for over 23 years." And he said without the love of spirit and giving back, he would be "dead or incarcerated certainly."

What a beautiful thought:  A group of men who are working to re-connect with their inherent goodness; a group of men getting their lives back on track; a group of men sitting around this table as my family did, in communion of food and laughter and love.

Save Money Overseas

Did you know that many credit cards charge 3% for foreign transactions?

We just discovered that our beloved mileage card does just that, which will not do when we're abroad.

If we need to pay by credit card to see this in Sri Lanka, we won't be paying an extra 3%!

Thank gawd for the internet.  In seconds with a quick Google search I found lists of credit cards that have no foreign transaction fees, including one that gives you mileage and waives the yearly card fee the first year.

Viola!  We now have a card devoted to purchases in other countries.

For more of my travel tips, check this out.

How to Write a Memoir

Image from one of my favorite books of all time.

Dear Dr. Kate,

What do you recommend to writers who are working on memoirs?  I’ve been putting down ideas for some time but feel like I don’t know how to continue.

Sincerely,

Neophyte Writer

Dear Neophyte Writer,

1.  Read a bunch of memoirs.

Read them not just as a reader but as a writer.  Pay attention to the variety of ways these writers linger on the most important moments, dig into scenes, reflect, move from chapter to chapter, and organize their stories.  You’ll see there are so many ways to do these things.  Books are your best teachers.  Here are a few of my favorites:

Just Kids (Patty Smith)
The Journal of a Solitude (May Sarton)
The Cactus Eaters (Dan White)
Wild (Cheryl Strayed)
Tales of a Female Nomad (Rita Gelman)
Another Bullshit Night in Suck City (Nick Flynn)
She’s Not There (Jennifer Finney Boylan)
Persepolis (Marjane Satrapi)
Death in Slow Motion (Eleanor Cooney)
The Birdhouse Chronicles (Cathleen Miller)
Jesus Land (Julia Scheeres)
Paula (Isabele Allende)
This Boy’s Life (Tobias Wolff)
Little Princes (Conor Grennan)
The Glass Castle (Jeanette Walls; I recommend you read her “true life novel” Half Broke Horses first)
A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius (Dave Eggers)
Any book by David Sedaris

There are a zillion more.  With a brief Googling, you can find ones you’ll love and can learn a lot from.

Also, some books about writing that you might like:  Writing Down the Bones(Natalie Goldberg), Wild Mind (Natalie Goldberg), and Bird by Bird (Anne Lamott).  If you feel “stuck,” read Writing the Natural Way (Gabriele Rico) and do the exercises in each chapter.

2.  Keep writing.

Find the juiciest moments, the most important scenarios, the meatiest stories–and dig into them.  Linger in them, and write and write.  Develop full scenes with sensory detail.  Help us feel like we are there.  Riff on connections to other memories, thoughts, reflections, feelings, mixed feelings, desires. Memoir is a rich combination of scene and reflection.  Help us see the locations and people keenly,so we can experience your life through your eyes. Also, whenever there’s an important moment coming, build up to it; develop the tension and conflict fully.  USE the books above to pay close attention to how all these writers do these things.

3.  Consider joining a writing group, or create one of your own.

I’m part of a writing group that meets once a month.  We share pages we’re working on, giving each other critical feedback and support.

4.  Consider starting a blog, in which you post short segments.

This way, you can “test drive” portions of your book.  And then you’re also building a readership for your book when it’s published.

5.  When it comes time to think about publishing, have a look at what I’ve said about:

Publishing a Book

Self Publishing a Book

6.  Enjoy the process. 

As Anais Nin said, “We write to taste life twice, in the moment, and in retrospection.”

I'm Already Traveling the World, Kind Of

Here's a sample of what's going on in my mind in the countdown to our Great Adventure, aka, The Next Phase of Our Lives:

* OMG, we’re going to see kangaroos, wallabies, dolphins, crocodiles, and beer-drinking Aussies in their natural habitats!

* Giants World Series Champions tee-shirt:  My go-to item of clothing anywhere in the world.

* Visas for India and Australia:  Check.

* Google:  Do you need a visa for Hong Kong?  Um... And how long, exactly, can you stay in Europe?

* Will a month in Paris make me want to live there permanently?

* Food to finish off in the house:  Raw almonds (extra bag was hidden in the back of the pantry).   Popsicles (why, exactly, do we have four boxes in the freezer)?  Costco-size frozen bag of berries (smoothie alert).

* Sell or store our furniture?

* New massive suitcases:  Too big or too small?

* Santa Cruz Warriors tickets:  Check. (We can't leave Santa Cruz before going to one of the home-team games.)

* Sitting around the house feels so good.  Like, way good.  Like, better than it has in years.  It's like my body is in a chrysalis, prepping for the big reveal.

* Which poems should I use for the writing lesson I’ll be teaching high schoolers in Chennai, India?

* Call for a massage appointment; don’t waste that birthday gift certificate.

* I guess we'll be throwing away a bazillion bottles of half-used condiments.

* So many poetry books:  give to my office-mate Sally, Poet Laureate par excellence.

* What totally unimaginable astonishments will eyes-wide-open bring?  Do I have enough boxes of contacts?

* OMG, we’re going to see elephants in their natural habitats!  

* Teeth cleaning:  Check. 

* Get SCUBA certified, or just rock the snorkeling?

* These orange deck chairs are hankering to live with our neighbors.

* If someone from India watched a Broadway musical for the first time, would it seem as familiar and yet strange as Bollywood seems to me?

* Immunizations?!

* These clothes that have been hanging in my closet that I never wear:  Goodwill.  Good riddance.

* Yoga in India?  Will it take me to a whole new physical and spiritual plane?  Will I still be totally incapable of doing the full lotus?

* My softest jeans are going to see the world.

* I have a huge crush on my new HD Kindle and its sweet soft white case with a built-in Bluetooth keyboard—my little book-writing, blog-posting, web-surfing, book-reading, movie-watching road-companion goddess.  

* Will three months in Tahoe make me want to live there permanently?

* At least one more ride on the Giant Dipper—ideally with my sister, nieces and nephew.

* What will it be like to be in Hong Kong at the home of my friend Kathy, whom I haven’t seen in more than 20 years?  She's a momma now.


* Why do I love saying “Cape Cod”?  Must be the alliteration and spondaic meter.  After July, I will have a whole mass of images to accompany the sound.

* Uggs and Tevas, FTW.

* Will a month in San Diego make me want to move there permanently?

* AT&T, PG&E, cable company, credit card company, bank, post office…

* Purple dragon statue:  perfect gift for our Australian friend Mark’s 90-year-old mother, who apparently loves Asian-themed tchotchkes.

* Will Mark, who is a concert pianist, serenade us every day?  If I beg him?

* Who will we meet who will rock our worlds? 

* Waterproof money belts:  Check.

* Will a year traveling the globe make me want to live there permanently?