Georgia, Georgia on my Mind
Southern hospitality is not just a saying. When I flew diagonally across the country from Northwest to Southeast to teach at the second annual Chattahoochee Valley Writers Conference in Columbus, Georgia, I received a delightful welcome—once I got past the land of airports, shuttles and baggage claim. The organizers housed me, fed me, drove me and made me feel like some kind of genius writer. They also called me "Miz Lick," which I liked very much.
I didn't see any magnolias or Georgia peaches, but I did ride on the Chet Atkins Parkway and saw the turnoffs to Montgomery, Macon, Ft. Benning and other places I'd heard of. The conference itself was in Columbus, which is filled with trees blowing gently in a warm, moist breeze. We convened in the new library, a stunning brick edifice topped by a rotunda. It has an auditorium, meeting rooms, a whole room for periodicals and another for teens. I loved it.
Conference activities included classes on fiction, poetry and nonfiction; a wine and cheese recepton at the Carson McCullers house, dinner at Houlihans, and time to talk to an agent and publisher and other teachers, as well as the delightful students. This is a small conference, only about 75 attendees, so it was easy to get personalized attention. In poetry classes with Nick Norwood and Memye Curtis Tucker, I felt as if the fog had been cleared from my head and I could really see how to make my work better.
I wish I could have stayed longer to see more of Georgia, but, as usual for the writer doing the tour, time was limited. I arrived Friday night and was back at the Atlanta airport on Sunday afternoon.
My flight to the Denver hub took place in a skinny plane in which I was sandwiched between a man big enough for two seats on my left and another giant in front of me with his seat leaning way back, plus a baby crying behind me. No movie. Long flight. Luckily, on the last leg, from Denver to Portland, the seat next to me was empty, and I had a little screen with TV shows to keep me awake. I had been up for 21 hours by the time I landed back at the Airport Ramada, where I could sleep as long as I wanted. In the morning, I made my leisurely way back to the Oregon coast, treasuring my faculty badge, my Chattahoochee tote bag, and photos of new friends who speak Southern and taught me to enjoy the moment, to examine it from all sides and write a poem about it.
Sue's News
A Cup of Comfort for Families touched by Alzheimer's will officially be out on Oct. 14, but I already have a box of them and read my first copy all the way through on my Georgia trip. It's a good book, albeit occasionally sad. My only objection is that most of the writers are talking about their parents. Very few write about spouses or siblings with the disease. But I'm proud to be in it and can't help pushing the book even though I don't get royalties. On the plane to Georgia, I was reading the book when the woman beside me mentioned that her father had just died of Alzheimer's Disease. I was using a postcard about the book as my bookmark. I handed it to her. She said she will probably buy at least two copies, one for herself and one for her friend. We authors are always marketing.
Speaking of which, I have a book-signing at Sea Towne Books in Newport on Nov. 8 from 11 a.m. to 2 p.m. and I'll be on KCUP AM's "Book Talk" radio show Monday, Nov. 10 at 9 a.m. More events to come.
I'm not planning to leave home for any more conferences for a while, but I am participating at The Muse's online conference this month. It's too late to register for this year, but check it out and put it on the calendar for next year.
Oregon Coast Writer Events
Willamette Writers' Coast Chapter will meet Oct. 7 at 7 p.m. at the Newport Library. Guest speaker is poet Ingrid Wendt, who urges attendees to bring poems they're having trouble with so we can work on them, especially our wobbly beginnings and endings. Remember, admission is always free. Come at 6:30 to mingle with other writers, including the speaker.
The WW coasties are also hosting a Saturday workshop by Jessica Morrell on "Story People: The Good, the Bad, the Ugly" on Oct. 25 from 10 a.m. to 2 p.m. at the Library. Cost is $60. Check Morrell's website for details.
Writers on the Edge continues the Nye Beach Writers Series Oct. 18 at 7 p.m. at the Visual Arts Center with sisters Donna and Darcy Henderson, both poets, and Bonnie Henderson, an avid outdoorswoman who has written many articles on hiking and other adventures, along with a book about hiking for kids. Admission is $5 for adults, free for students. An open mike follows the program.
The adventures of Annie and Chico
The pups are now 7 1/2 months old and still
growing. Chico has the long legs and long body
of an adolescent whose limbs are growing too
quickly for his body, while Annie remains a bit
more compact. They have big-dog teeth now,
which have enabled them to chew through the
hot tub cover, the screen door, an expensive
"Kong" that was supposed to endure the efforts
of "power chewers," the lattice around the deck,
and every blanket or comforter we put into their
crates. They eat Puppy Chow, too, by the giant
bag-full.
Trying to walk them together is like trying to
control a team of runaway horses, so we go one at a time, good for mother-dog bonding. Recently we've been meeting a big male yellow lab who I think is their father. He has many of same features as Annie, albeit older and bigger. Thank God he's friendly. When I first saw him and another Lab at the end of the street, standing like sentinels, I thought we might be in trouble, but all was peaceful. The dogs checked each other out and "Dad" let me pet him.
They rise early, these pups, and begin their busy days of wrestling, running and house-guarding. Around dinnertime, they put on a show. I don't know if I have ever seen anything run so fast. But as darkness descends, they finally settle down in their crates and snooze until it's time to play or eat again. There's nothing as sweet as sleeping puppies.
Book Report
Not a Genuine Black Man: My Life as an Outsider by Brian Copeland, MacAdam/Cage, 2006. We often hear about the comedian telling jokes to hide his pain. Copeland, a standup comic/actor/writer who is a Bay Area icon for his TV and radio shows, has exposed the sad side of his life in Not a Genuine Black Man. The title came from a listener who complained that he wasn't "black enough." At that point, he was heading toward a personal crisis and looking for what to do next. He began to explore his childhood in one of the few black families living in San Leandro, California. It was a time when a police officer picked him up at eight years old for walking down the street with a baseball bat, when all the white kids at his school called him "Brillo Head" and refused to play with him, when his father rarely appeared but beat up his mother when he did, when his mother's landlord evicted them for being black. His mother sued—and lost. The trials of his youth eventually caught up with him in adulthood, but he has turned it all into a successful one-man show and a wonderful book. Chapters loosely alternate between youth and adulthood, leading to a shocking climax that brings him to where he is today. Highly recommended.
P.S. In the movie "The Bucket List," Copeland plays Morgan Freeman's son.
Playing for Pizza by John Grisham, Dell/Bantam, 2008. This book is delicioso. A departure from Grisham's legal thrillers, this one is about football and choosing what is most important in life. Rick Dockery has become the "Goat" of the NFL by giving away the Superbowl when he threw an interception at a crucial moment in his stint as third-string quarterback for the Cleveland Browns and ended up in the hospital with his third concussion. He has been all over the league and no one will hire him. No one in the USA, that is. His agent gets him a job as starting quarterback for the Parma Panthers in Parma, Italy. Everything is different except the most important part: the game and the camaraderie of the players. They have never played in the Italian Superbowl, not even close, but the Italians are certain their new NFL superstar will bring them to victory. Dockery isn't so sure. It's a fast-moving book, a delight for football fans and more satisfying than a thick-crust pizza with everything on it.
Poets on Prozac: Mental Illness, Treatment, and the Creative Process by Richard Berlin, MD, The Johns Hopkins University Press, 2008. The question posed in this book is whether treatment for mental illness helps or hinders creativity. Sixteen poets talk about their experiences and share poetry written before, during or after treatment. While interesting, I'm afraid it didn't really answer the question for me. Perhaps the best answer came in the final essay, by Chase Twichell, who says it's impossible for a person whose consciousness is affected by psychotropic drugs to know what the effects are. For Twichell, the drugs enable her to function, including writing, but she also admits that the sparkle of language and metaphor is dulled by the drugs. She can write, but it seems more difficult. Overall, the sad truth is these stories are all too much alike and don't really grab me the way I had hoped they would. But they do raise intriguing questions.
Six-Word Memoirs and a great blog
I promised to publish the six-word memoirs people sent in. Here are some good ones.
Bethany: I'm exhausted; can I leave now?
Bethany's mom Marylee: I loved...was loved...met God.
Adrienne: Daughter, wife, mother: Happiness times three.
****
That's all for now. Happy birthday to Michael, Jenny, Rob, Betty, Beth and everyone else born in October. I'm not planning any more trips for a while. I want to stay home and write and enjoy the last of our sunshine before the rain storms in. Stay safe and enjoy each moment because in these crazy times, only God knows what will happen next.
Hugs,
Sue
All contents copyright 2008 Sue Fagalde Lick.
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