On Teaching

I have held life long respect for teachers and the teaching profession. There are many teachers in my family and I've had the great fortune of having many great and memorable teachers at all levels of my education.

A few years ago, I was approached with the opportunity to teach a course in public relations at Fontbonne University. The teaching bug certainly bit that first semester, as I nervously stood before my first class of college juniors and seniors. Teaching what you know, while you're living it, helps. As a public relations and communications professional, I was able to share with the class my daily work life one night a week. As a crisis would unfold or a creative challenge presented itself, the class had a front-row seat watching and participating in real-life PR.

As part of the class I offered some advice. Communications is about networking and keeping in touch. Get to know people, develop relationships and commit to learning not just the craft, but about the people who practice it. I ended every semester with the promise that any student could get in touch with me ever after and I would do what I could to answer questions and help nurture them in their careers. Several, to my delight, have taken me up on the offer.

I had to give up teaching when we moved from St. Louis to Charlottesville and while I'm happy to regain the time, I sure miss it. This week, in particular.

Today, I heard from one of my students from last year's class. A gifted student, he was having trouble deciding his career path, plagued with too many choices and capabilities. He's working as an intern in a PR firm this summer and absolutely loves it. He closed the e-mail by thanking me for being a great teacher and a good friend.

This is why we teach.

The Empty Space

Last night, I dreamt that I'd lost a tooth. In the dream I pushed my tongue into the hole, worrying the space through the night. Upon waking, I ran my tongue over my teeth just to be sure it was a dream, and that all were intact.

Dream analysts probably have theories about missing teeth dreams. I don't care for these so I will not seek them. It's the space, rather than the missing tooth that intrigues me. It's like the idea upon drifting off to sleep that you can't quite recapture in the morning. It's the brilliance after your fourth beer that later reveals itself to be ridiculous or worse, unoriginal.

Is the hole some gap I'm trying to fill with words, friends and work? Or is it just a symbol of the boy, who has left us for a week, leaving an empty space at the table?

Learning to Write

I have been very fortunate. While living in St. Louis, I had the experience of learning from a number of great writers. In school, I learned from Kirk Curnutt, Mary Troy, Jerry Harp, Bob Earleywine and George Hickenlooper, Sr. (yes, the father of the famous filmmaker). Although they were not formally my teachers, I've also had the opportunity to learn from Jason Sommer and Wayne Fields.

My father was my first writing teacher, ever encouraging me to read, write and try. When I was in college, my dad took his first stab at writing a play. I remember this clearly as I was in Prof. Hickenlooper's class, struggling unsuccessfully with my own screenplay. Today, just 11 or 12 years later, Dad is an accomplished playwright.

Recently, Dad, in his sixties-plus (he's a very young 71) attended the Iowa Writers' Workshop (well, one of the shorter, summer programs, anyway). Again, doing what I've always wanted to do. I put my seething jealousy aside long enough to hear about the program, how great it was, how helpful the instruction, how cool Iowa City is, how much he got out of it, etc.

I really want to go. I'm looking ahead to the next few years and would like to plan to attend. I'd love to hear from other grads of the program and get your thoughts.

Dispatches from the Desk

I finished reading Anderson Cooper's book, Dispatches from the Edge. I found it a little weird. It was good, and interesting, but it had some holes, I thought. As a journalist, I like Cooper. I admire his daring and find his reporting from war zones thorough and in-depth. He seems to live his whole life as a journalist, though.

While the book shares much of his life with his mother (Gloria Vanderbilt) and the impact his father's death and his brother suicide had on his life, there's not much insight into his life, outside of the journalism, now.

If you have an interest in reading about Cooper's coverage of Hurricane Katrina or any of the world travels and war reporting he's done, pick it up.

Summer reading list

A bit ago, Steve Whittaker posted a query about summer reading lists on his blog. (BTW, Steve, why is your blog showing up all super large print these days?) I love the idea of a summer reading list. I shared what I've got going between pages for these hot days, but I'm interested in what you're reading, too.

I developed a habit of reading entire author's works once I discover I like them. It all started the fall that everyone else went back to college and I, newly married, expecting my first child, incredibly lonely and depressed, did not. My writing teacher from the previous semester, Kirk Curnutt (great interview, here) had recommended two things: John Irving and A Prayer for Owen Meany. Since writing teachers have always held great sway with me, influencing more than I ever want them to know, I became acquainted with Irving that fall. I read everything. Chronologically, backwards, back to the beginning so I could appreciate the growth of the writer.

This style of reading set a precedent for me. Currently I'm doing the same with the work of Margaret Atwood. While I'm no where near as infatuated with Atwood as I am Irving, I do have an appreciation for her style, and enjoy the paperback editions as poolside reads (bought for $2.50 apiece at the New Dominion bookstore on the downtown mall).

Don DeLillo has reached into my reading life in much the same way. I read Underworld as part of a book club, and suddenly realized I'd read his work before, in the form of a short story, included as a chapter in the novel. The story? The Angel Esmerelda, written several years before the novel. It is a captivating, haunting story.

I have a theory that applies generally to movies about the squirm factor. If you're wondering what time it is before the car chase or before our hero has gotten the girl, then it's probably a bad movie. A similar theory, I think, applies to written works. If I still remember some piece of it later, and later still (years! eons!) then I deem it successful. If I can't get it out of my head, then dear author, you're mine and I'll line up at the bookshelves head cocked to the side, seeking out your earlier and earliest works.

Novel in a Month

A good friend and fellow writer issued this challenge to me today.

I'm not sure I'm up for writing an entire novel in one month (maybe if I didn't have to work or eat) but maybe you are. Can you imagine how terrible some of the entries must be? I'm tempted to sign up and take the challenge. I know I'll likely be traveling to St. Louis twice in November and the family is coming to our house for Thanksgiving, so November is NOT the best time for this, but really, when is?

I'm sure the strictly reader audience of this blog is thinking that they'd have trouble stretching reading a novel into a month's timeframe. Depends on the novel, I guess.

Are you up for a novel in a month?

Darling Delmar

When I was a senior in college, (a non-traditional commuter student with a five-year-old child, a full time job and a husband) I met a couple of guys who changed the course of my travels.

I was the editor of the school's literary magazine, The Griffin. Bob Earleywine, my writing teacher that semester, had suggested Steve Schreiner as guest reader for the event. Steve invited a couple of guys he knew to attend our school's annual reading, hosted by members of The Griffin's staff. That night, I met Jeff Hamilton and Scott McKelvie.

I remember being college coffee house captivated. The beer we drank at The Corner Bar after the reading induced an infatuation of sorts. I wanted to support everything these guys were doing. I wanted to be them when I grew up, whenever that might be. I wanted to roll around in whatever they were involved in. I wanted in.

Jeff and Scott are co-founders of Delmar, a St. Louis-based literary journal that has survived 11 print editions and now, has gone Web.

Soon after that meeting, and for many years after, when I had the time, (there was another child born, a career to begin) I devoted whatever public relations help I could, trying to help the St. Louis based literary journal gain readers, sell copies, publish another book. I met some incredible writers, went to (and helped organize) great readings that took place in neighborhoods all over St. Louis. It wasn't enough, but I always believed in what Delmar was doing and wanted to do. I still do.

Delmar is in a new phase of its life, persisting online. Take a look and perhaps you'll feel the same thrill I felt when I first met Scott and Jeff, over 11 years ago.

Writing the Good Read

I've been a writer as long as I've been a reader. It's a neck to neck race in which I do, and want to do more. This blog is for readers and writers alike, a forum in which to share good reads, and items of interest for those who write.

Writing and reading are like water for many. A day without it leaves us gasping, parched. Come here for a sip and stay awhile.