I'm working on a series of interlinked short stories about the Jewish holidays from the point of view of an 11-year-old girl in 1972. (That would be some version of me.)

Here's the opening lines from one of them.

Lag b’Omer

It was the best thing we’d ever done in Hebrew School: build our own hunting bows.  Both Gimmel classes were outside, scouring the narrow woods next to the parking lot for fallen branches.

“Thicker than a pencil,” our teacher called after us.  

“How much?” Mark Wasserman called back. “Like a Lincoln log?”

Mrs. Glickenstein didn’t know what Lincoln logs were. I was a girl with three brothers, so I did.

In conjunction with the natural history museum at CU/Boulder, I'm offering a Beetle Poetry Workshop. Here are the details.

BEETLE-MANIA!
BEETLE-INSPIRED CREATIVE WRITING FOR EVERYONE

Wednesday, October 24, 2012  •  7:00 pm
In the BioLounge at the University of Colorado Museum of Natural History (Boulder Campus).
Free! Call 303.492.6892 to register or email cumuseum@colorado.edu.

Join writer and former C.U. instructor Ellen Orleans (that would be me)  for a playful, exploratory writing workshop inspired by the University of Colorado Museum of Natural History’s Beetles exhibition. Though inquiry-based learning, create and share work in response to the thousands of beetles on display in the BioLounge. Experiment with techniques that include writing query prose, Double E poems, list poems, even beetle-shaped poems.

I've included the KGNU spot for it as well. Mainly because it's funny to hear a radio announcer say "Beetle-shaped poems."

Last Night's Writing Prompt

Strangely, her favorite part of _____________  was  _____________.

Write for 15 minutes.
Go.

First Chapter

Detail from a temporary assemblage I constructed in November 2008 which prompted the writing of Pedestal.

Here's the first chapter, "Mother" from my manuscript Pedestal.  Writing this book was the impetus for the writing class I'm teaching next month, "Your Grief Story: Writing the Loss of a Loved One." More on that class in the post below this one.

Mother

She’s thinner now, her face chiseled and papery as if from a family not your own. She has trouble forming words, holding thoughts. “Not enough blood to the brain,” her doctor says. Who knows if this is true? He’s been wrong so many times.

“Tell me,” your mother says. “How did I get here?”

You tell her the story you think she’s asking for. The fall. The fractured pelvis.  The interrupted healing, the ill-advised flight, her glassy eyes and dehydration. A second trip to the hospital. This is where you are now, mop-streaked tiles beneath your feet, her half-room made smaller still by its bed tray, mismatched chairs, and privacy curtain.

You remember another room. A Saturday night. You, age seven, sitting on your parents’ bed, watching your mother squeeze herself into a girdle, tuck herself into a foundation bra.  Sometimes, you zippered her dress. You’d watch her fiddle with silk scarves, knotting, pinning, and re-pinning, until she returned the scarf to the drawer, put on a necklace instead.  “It’s a better line,” she’d say, tracing her body, throat to belly. Forty years later, in your own mirror, you do the same.

When the nurses turn your mother—wipe her, wash her, re-cover her—in her body, you see your own. You feel kinship, then fear. You think, "Someday, this will be me.”  Push these thoughts away. The present is already too much.

 As she sleeps, you pledge to keep this version of her—muscles grown limp, bones turned to lace—from displacing all others. You will remember the woman who bore, bathed, and raised five children. These legs and arms carried you. These muscles. These bones.

She opens her eyes, asks again, "How did I get here?”

Your Grief Story: Writing Workshop

Starting in September, I'll be teaching a class for Turning Point Writing Workshops.  Details below. Call or email me if you want to know more.


Your Grief Story: Writing the Loss of a Loved One

Surviving the death of a loved one is among the most profound experiences we human beings share.  It rarely leaves us unchanged. And yet, our grief is as individual as our lives. Drawing upon the stages of grief—including denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance—this class uses writing as a tool with which to explore our loss, to learn to live without our loved one, and to continue to heal.

Classes include readings, discussion, and writing exercises. The final class will be a group reading of our grief stories. You do not have to be a writer to participate, just willing to explore your loss  and share your experience through your words.


Class goals include

• Expanding your self-awareness through writing
• Connecting deeply with your grief and your loved one who has died.
• Building community with other participants through writing and discussion.
• Learning creativity and writing techniques.
• Completing a story and sharing it with family and friends.

Class Dates
Wednesdays, September 19 and 26 and October 3, 10, and 17.
Class meets from 6:30 to 9 p.m. in South Boulder.

Contact information
303-444-2691 or  ellen.orleans[at]gmail [dot] com

Cost
$325 with a 15% discount available for readers of this blog and early registrants. 

About the instructor (that would be me)
A long-time author and instructor, Ellen Orleans has taught creative writing for Boulder County schools, libraries, and non-profits for twenty years. Her classes emphasize writing as a path to self-understanding and connection to the world around us.

The author of five books and a chapbook, Ellen recently completed Pedestal, a memoir about her mother’s death. Excerpts have appeared in The Denver Quarterly, The Incredible Shrinking Story and Palimpsest. “The Shape of Montana,” also from Pedestal, was included in a 2012 Stories on Stage/Buntport Theater production.

Ellen’s writing has been published widely, most recently in the anthologies Primal Picnics and Milk and Honey. Her digital essay, “O-8: My Visit with a Nuclear Missile,” is viewable on YouTube while her nature writing appears regularly in Boulder County’s Images.



Find out more about Turning Point Workshops here: 
writelifecoaching.com/turningpointworkshops.htms