Thank you Joyce
Tomorrow my debut novel, “Mother Mother,” launches and I’m thinking about the teacher who influenced me most as a writer, Joyce Maynard. Although we’re around the same age, Joyce is famously precocious, and, as a girl from New Jersey, I grew up reading her essays in the New York Times. Decades later, relocated to California and wrestling with a memoir, I learned Joyce lived a few miles from me in Marin County and held writing workshops in her home. Not only that, she owns a place in Guatemala, the country that figures prominently in my writing and where my children were born. So off I went to Joyce’s aptly named “One Day Intensive” and I say aptly named because when she’s in teacher mode, Joyce is intense. Before class, she may appear Zen-like in yoga pants as she sips coffee and nibbles poppy seed cake, but once Joyce grabs that dry erase marker and stands before her white board, she is all laser focus. That day fifteen years ago, Joyce cut through my jumble of ideas to reveal a narrative arc and protagonist’s journey. I’d lived the story—it’s memoir!—but until Joyce laid out the elements and identified the beats, I hadn’t found a way to tell it. Joyce’s instruction was specific. No platitudes from Joyce. Parsing every sentence, she said, “Can you draw a picture of this?” Evaluating each conflict, she said “What are the stakes?” As I listened to her speak, I realized good writing requires the proper tools and Joyce is a master carpenter. I drove home that night inspired and transformed. I knew I would finish my manuscript, and I did. My memoir, “Mamalita,” was published in 2010. I’ve attended dozens of workshops since my first one with Joyce, with outstanding teachers who have dedicated themselves to helping me improve my craft. But when I sit down to write, every time I sit down to write, it’s Joyce’s voice I hear: “The curtain goes up; show us the scene. Find the rhythm of the paragraph, the sentence, the phrase, the word. No character is entirely good or entirely bad; locate the sympathy. Tell the reader once. Drive the narrative. Cut, cut, cut. End with the punch.” In the years I’ve known Joyce, she’s been teacher, mentor, and friend–to me and countless other writing students. So tonight, on the eve of the day my novel finds its place in the world, I say thank you, Joyce, thank you. I hope I’ve made you proud.
Back to school
Our first week of distance learning was a success. I’m proud of my HS sophomore and senior–(sophomore! senior!!! what?!?)–for their good attitudes and adaptability. (Not sure I would do so well, actually.) No first day of school pix this year–they’re 18 and 15, enough said. But I found this gem from 12 years ago. xoxo
New cover
My novel has a new cover! Hugo Ayala‘s beautiful painting, Nahualá , is now fully visible. Thank you to Bryn Kristi of Mindbuck Media for collaborating with Apprentice House to find the perfect design. I’ve got to tell you, having this story out of my brain and onto the page is a huge relief. I won’t say it’s been “haunting” me, but definitely has occupied mind space. Publication date is October 1. Which suddenly feels very soon. ~
My book is becoming real.
This arrived. The Advance Reading Copy of my first novel, Mother Mother. The cover is a detail from Hugo Ayala’s painting “Nahuala,” bought in Antigua, Guatemala and hanging in my living room. I’m grateful to my many mentors, teachers, fellow writers, and beta readers whose insights made the book better. Mother Mother is available now for preorder on Amazon, Indie Bound, and Barnes & Noble. Publication date is October 1. I hope you like it! xoxo
Anthem
When our kids were little, we attended Heritage Camp for Adoptive Families every summer. Heritage Camp is a long weekend of presentations, workshops, and fun in Colorado’s Rocky Mountains, specifically geared toward different adoptive family groups–Latin American, Chinese, Russian/Eastern European, Korean, African/Caribbean. And every year on the last morning of camp, as we gathered to say our final goodbyes, somebody sat center stage with a guitar and sang John McCutcheon’s anthem “Happy Adoption Day.” I couldn’t see through my own tears, but I’m guessing there wasn’t a parent in that room who wasn’t crying. Adoption is complicated. No one understands that better than the people involved in it. Adoption begins with loss. But in this song, we celebrate the joys of adoption. The wonder of our beautiful and cherished children, the miracle of our coming together. Heritage Camp for Adoptive Families was cancelled this summer. But thanks to the talented counselors and family of Korean Heritage Camp 2020, we can still hear our anthem and listen to these words: “For out of a world so tattered and torn,You came to our house on that wonderful morn.And all of sudden, this family was born.Oh, Happy Adoption Day.” xoxo Happy Adoption Day by John McCutcheon