book cover art by Mollie Ito Roark

book cover art by Mollie Ito Roark

I’m so excited. My mini-memoir, The Mouse Room, was published by SheBooks a few weeks ago.  Yahoo! I’ve been working not this crazy story for decades- first as fiction, then as part of longer piece, then finally as this little 33-page memoir. I’m proud of it. I worked really hard at it and had some fabulous editing by the folks at SheBooks.

I’ve gotten wonderful responses so far. Some very cool Amazon reviews. But one of the things I was not expecting, was to hear several people say to me, “I’d love to read your book, but I don’t have an e-reader!”

Don’t have a Kindle or a Nook? No problem! There’s a free Kindle reading app, so you can read it on virtually anything with a screen. Your laptop. Your phone. Your iPad. Your smart television!

free kindle

It takes a few seconds to download. Voila! Some people said, “Oh, cool! I didn’t know that! I’ll go do that right now!”

But some other people said, “I’m sorry. I’d love to read it. But I only read on paper.”

Wait. Really? But didn’t you just say this on email? Or in a text message? Or on Facebook?

You only read on paper?

I can understand this. I love paper books. In fact, I own thousands of them. THOUSANDS. I love the way that they look and feel and smell. I love being able to scribble in them. And turn down their little doggie ears. (another sacrilege to many, I’m sure)

On the other hand, I’ve had other people comment that they won’t buy or read a book if it’s NOT electronic, because too many trees have already been killed. And because books are too heavy and take up too much space and the bookshelves are already toppling over from the weight.

Noooo! Not the trees!

Noooo! Not the trees!

I was discussing this with another writer/reader yesterday. She said, and I think this pretty much sums it up for me,

“I love words. I just love words, in any form.”

That’s how I feel.

She went on. “What if Gutenberg said, Look at this amazing piece of writing I just produced on a printing press! Many people can read it at once!” And what if some people responded, warily, “No. I only read works that are written, by hand, in calligraphy. I only trust writing made by humans, not machines.”  And what if the first calligraphers were told by suspicious naysayers, “I’ll only read it if it’s chiseled in a stone tablet. Or painted in animal blood on a cave wall.” Etcetera.

What’s this about? Is it fear of change? Dislike of technology? I can relate to this on many levels. I, who was once (long ago) so enchanted by the zippy magic of email, am now mounting a personal handwritten letter campaign so that I can again enjoy the thrill of finding a personal letter in my (actual, wooden) mailbox. (yes. if you write me a handwritten letter, I promise that I will write one back.) I am even taking a calligraphy class next month in order to bone up on my rusty Weaver Writing Style!

write to me. I'll write back.

write to me. I’ll write back.

It doesn’t have to be all or nothing. Just because we take up reading e-books, which I am doing more and more of these days, (I looooove getting free samples on my iPad to see if I really want to invest the time and money in a book), it doesn’t mean abandoning books forever. I love being able to increase the font size in an e-book to assist my (cough) aging eyes. I love carrying a hundred books with me in my phone that I can read while waiting in pesky lines.  My husband is fond of reading Gilead during half-time at Warriors games. (that’s my guy: preferring Marilynne Robinson over the Warrior Girls!) But I also love reading paper books and writing paper letters.  And even making paper.

making paper with our own little hands

making paper with our own little hands

So what’s it for you?  Would you never read an e-book? Never kill another tree for literature? Or do you just… love words?


bedroom decor in the cottage

bedroom decor in the cottage

I have been waiting for this time for so very long! Like, YEARS.

I applied for a few writing residencies last year and when I didn’t get any of them, I decided to put together one of my own. Why wait for someone else to grant me the time and place to write? I decided that April would be my month of Getting Back Into It and Making Some Headway into Finishing a Damn Book.

Part one of my “sabbatical” involved taking a leave of absence from my physical therapy job. I hung up my name badge last week and won’t be picking it up again until May. That was kind of a big deal. I’d worked a LOT in December and January in preparation for this time. I will miss seeing some of my patients, but I have found that trying to combine many kinds of work is very challenging. So I’m doing the total-immersion approach for a month and see how that goes.

goodbye until May!

goodbye until May!

I flew out to New York. First part of the sabbatical involved meeting up with my BFF on her birthday, and celebrating with a trip to Ithaca, where we met each other in a writing workshop o so many years/decades (!!) ago. It was a deep immersion in nostalgia, back where our friendship and mutual writing support began.

We rented a not-so-little YURT (2 bedrooms! 2 levels!) that was adorable and cozy. We spent some hours writing, and also Thinking About Writing via this new-to-us software called Scrivener, which is an amazing organizational tool for bookwriters.

IMG_1124 IMG_1140




We also spent some time hiking around Ithaca’s beautiful falls, which I will never grow tired of.

Lucifer Falls, Treman Park, Ithaca

Lucifer Falls, Treman Park, Ithaca

Because, the thing is, if you’re going to spend hours hunched over or under a laptop (as is in my case, since I do a lot of writing lying on my back), you GOTTA get out and move the body and get some air too.

After the blissful weekend, we drove back down to Manhattan and checked out this excellent play (about transracial adoption, a topic near and dear to both of us). I found it very inspiring and provocative.


The Call, by Tonya Barfield

Yesterday, I left the city to come out to the very tippy-tip tip of Long Island, to the little town of Montauk. Most of it is closed down because it is still winter here. But it is quite beautiful, and I lucked upon an adorable, very retro little place.

IMG_1224 IMG_1217 IMG_1223It’s wonderful. But now that I am here, all on my own for several days (until another writer friend joins me), I’m finding that I’m not just pounding out dozens of pages. In fact, quite the contrary. What I’ve needed in the past several years has not been page-producing (I’ve actually done a bit of that) but time and space in which to THINK. Which is why Scrivener is such a gift at this time. I’ve had it on my computer for years, but it never made any sense to me until now. But now! YES.

I am finding that “writing time” also includes:

  • reading (other books for inspiration/structure/plot)
  • reading (books, mostly by friends of mine, I have been putting OFF reading until I have TIME)
  • Scrivening (which is awesome but also makes my brain feel like it’s doing quantum physics)
  • napping and/or sleeping late
  • getting outside and moving around (good thing for me, I am 1.2 miles from Town, and I do not have a car!)
  • dealing with various and sundry Details of my Life Back Home
  • nutrition (I LOOOOOOVE not having to prepare meals! Thus far I have been subsisting on coffee, Cutie oranges, trail mix and cheese)
  • blogging!
  • ART! Yeah I’m pulling out all the creative stops. I’m going to be taking an online art journal class starting on Sunday and I bought some colored pencils and watercolors to jog that part alive as well…

Because all of these things involve different parts of the brain (and body). Well, that was today, anyway. Tomorrow I might blast out a ton of pages. But one of the biggest gifts about having time like this is about having the flexibility to do all the different things that will help one’s writing. And not just writing.

blurry but brilliant Audrey

It’s funny. I first started this blog, way back in 2005 (!!!!!!!!!!!), after attending a reading that really inspired me. Tonight I went to a reading that re-ignited that inspiration: a reading series in Sausalito called Why There Are Words. My friend Audrey was reading with 5 other writers. It had been a long day at work, I was supposed to do a bike-run workout, and Oakland and Sausalito are probably two of the most inconveniently located spots (from each other) in the Bay Area. There’s no easy way to get there from here.

But it was my FRIEND, whom I love (and love her writing as well). She doesn’t do readings that often and I really wanted to go. So I scrapped the workout (shhh! don’t tell my other blog!) and headed over a bridge to get there.

I used to have these other friends who called me “Susanito from Sausalito” and kept urging me to move there so I could have an address like that. Hahaha. It was cute. But I’ve always had a weird little affectionate place in my heart for that touristy little town. When I first moved to California, maybe the first week, my cousin took me to the no name bar. I remember the green, plant filled garden out in the back, the fact that it seemed like a secret, magical place with no name… I think I had my first Irish coffee there. Or something.

It’s been a long time since I’ve been in touch with that cousin (insert quiet, melancholic moment). But I was happy to be driving back to Sausalito to go to this reading.

Being there reminded me instantly why I love readings, and writers, and writing. It felt like it had been SO LONG. (it had). I used to go to readings all the time, like I go to workouts now. Sigh.  But the good thing about being away from a thing that maybe you used to take for granted, is that when you come back it just seems all the more wonderful.

Everyone in the place seemed to feel that way. It’s a gorgeous, airy art gallery with art that just made me feel happy that there is such a thing as art. I sat next to some people and asked them if they knew any of the writers. They said no. And this blew me away! Because usually, the vast majority of audiences at readings are comprised of the writers’ friends (who are usually also writers). And not people who are just coming because they happen to… what? Love literature? Like actualy patrons of the arts? This also made me really happy and like, wow, the world is not such a bad place after all.

My friend Audrey read from a short story, “Retreat,” that happens to be set in a place that is so near and dear to my heart. I happen to be hosting a writing/art/movement retreat (!!) at that very place in just a few weeks. (notice to the five people who are still reading this blog – there are spots open, and some MAJOR scholarship/discounts available!) It was, without bias, the best thing read all night. The audience burst into laughter about every 30 seconds, and people were chuckling and chortling and making resonant sounds throughout the whole thing. Audrey read dramatically, dryly and hilariously. We loved it.

The whole evening made me feel so in love with words again, and stories, and writers. Several members of my own (long-neglected) writing group were there, and I was so happy to see them and have missed them so much. I have GOT to find a way to get back. I must. I must.

So: check out this fabulous reading series here, which was founded and coordinated by this wonderful writer here.
And: Check out the “Stories of the Body” writing retreat! It is going to be amazing and blissful. It is the place of my heart.

the Hermitage at Santa Sabina

And go to a reading this month! Pick one out. I bet you can find one. Support a writer who has put his or her heart into those pages. It will do the world a lot of good. Then come back and tell us about it.

As any of you who ever read this blog anymore know, my posts here have been very few and far between. But recently I’ve been itching to come back. I have a little bit more to say about reading, writing and things other than food and bodies. (that conversation is still going strong)

It’s been a long time since I read an entire book. I think the last full book I read before this weekend was Red Dust Road by Jackie Kay, which I read while on my first trip to Europe this past spring. It was an amazing and wonderfully written memoir. It made me feel so seen. And her writing just made me swoon. I recently wrote a little review of it for Pact’s newsletter and here are two excerpts I included that really really spoke to me:

“It’s complicated. Tracing (her word for “searching”) suddenly asks someone who has had one life to have two, and you can’t have two lives, you can only have one. The empty ghost, the wraithlike figure that has stalked me for years seems to be taking off her pale polka-dot dress… She opens a locker, with her own key, found after years of fumbling, and disappears into its depths.”


“My mum all those years ago sensed a child who had been adopted was a child who could feel terribly hurt. And no matter how much she loved me… there is still a windy place right at the core of my heart. The windy place is like Wuthering Heights, out on open moors, rugged and wild and free and lonely… I struggle against the windy place. I sometimes even forget it. But there it is…you think adoption is a story that has an end. But the point about it is that it has no end. It keeps changing its ending.”

You can sure say that again. Keeps changing its ending.

Then today I just finished another memoir (trend here?) by Heather Sellers, called You Don’t Look Like Anyone I Know. I don’t know if it was recommended me by a person, or by Amazon “you might like this” feature, but it any case I got it and took it up to the beach for the Labor Day weekend. Again, I was struck by the writing: fresh, warm, beautiful and tender. I just loved it. Maybe at first it would be an adoption memoir but instead it was about growing up with some Very Challenging Parents and later diagnosed with something called “face blindness.” Her tenacity and determination to underself is just really moving, and her ability to write about it impressive.

Both of these books really inspired me to Get Back Into It.

And to that end, I’ve signed up with a site called, which is like a kinder, gentler version of Dr. Wicked’s Write or Die site. I used that one a lot when I did NaNoWriMo, when I often needed threats of violence to get those 1600+ words/day in.

But is cute and encouraging. It gives out various animal stickers for different accomplishments. I am a sucker for stickers. (click on images to see details)

It also does these kind of random analysis of your writing, based on words you used a lot. Today it told me that I was “upset” and writing about “family.” Which actually was accurate. I was writing a little piece of fiction based on an odd interaction I witnessed in a video store last night.

It’s all kind of entertaining and keep me amused but like I said, I am a sucker for stickers and challenges etc so it’s a good incentive. I joined the month of September daily challenge (to see if I can write every day) and I have made the happy leap from journaling (zzzzzzzzzzzzz boring) to nonfiction and fiction. Which feels much better. To start my day with a nice little freewrite.

My last piece is writerly news is that I am on the brink of deepening my involvement with the ever inspiring and awesome Afghan Women Writers’ Project. Which I am excited about. More on that soon!

The wonderful Bloglily wrote on her blog recently about the idea of “bookstacks” – in fact the photo here is from her blog. I had kind of forgotten what (her definition of) bookstacks were, so I concocted my own notion of them in my head. Yes, it’s a stack of books. But for BL, it’s about wrapping a stack of books for a loved one. I guess they are new books.

MY idea of what “bookstacks” might be, was something different. Yes, a stack of books. Yes, giving to loved ones. But here’s my idea.

I’m going to make a bunch of special bookstacks for holiday time. I’m going to wrap them festively (like the picture) and put them underneath my tree. But this is going to be the deal: they are going to come from my (enormous) library. And I am going to give them to friends.

I am going to make bookstacks in the following categories (one stack each)

  • children’s books
  • cookbooks
  • short stories
  • parenting
  • poetry
  • adoption
  • nonfiction
  • fiction (novels)
  • writing

In order to be eligible for one of these stacks, all you need to do is come to my house, share a cup of tea or cocoa and a little snack, and visit for a short while. One stack per person. (your choice of category until the stacks are all gone) Email me to arrange a time to do this. If you desperately want one of the stacks and it is not feasable for you to come in person, then you must…. um… WRITE ME A HANDWRITTEN LETTER telling me about what is new in your life.  If you do not have my snail mail address, email me.

The thing is, I want to visit with people. Connect with people. And I need to decrease the # of books in my house, because I need to make room for the NEW books I put on my Santa wish-list.🙂

If you do not want any books (how could that be?!?) and just want to visit, that’s good too!

images-1Bookaholic. This really came home to me when today’s mail was delivered. FOUR big cardboard packages/padded envelopes that could only mean one thing: BOOKS. 

I really am incapable of dealing with libraries AT ALL (I neeevvvver return them) so if I hear of a book that intrigues me, I will go to Amazon Marketplace and see if I can get one for a dollar, or three. Plus postage, and it doesn’t feel like very much  – is it? Unless it’s a newly published book or one by a friend of mine, in which case I will buy it new. I try to balance my Amazon habit with my supporting-independent-bookstores habit.

Last night I had an hour to kill and just happened to be nearby one of my favorite indy bookstores. It was such an amazing pleasure to walk around, touch and pick up and browse dozens and dozens of books. Mmm! In the end I had to buy two: John Crowley’s newest, Endless Things, and Peter Carey’s His Illegal Self

Today, the mail brought me: two copies of the new Asian adoptee literary ‘zine Grinding Up Stones (looks great!), Joyce Carol Oates’ The Faith of A Writer: Life, Craft and Art (some writer buddies were raving about it and I got intrigued) and Shrink Yourself, a book about emotional eating (and which, curiously, was blurbed by Senator Ted Kennedy!). 

And that’s only in the last 24 hours.

images-1OK, so both my  daughter and my high school friend have remarked that I have not blogged here in an awfully long time. Busted! It’s true. I actually wrote two extreeeeeemely long blog posts while at AWP, which I will be putting up shortly. The issue is that they both had a lot of links in them so I kept putting them off because links are just a little time consuming. That’s just silly.

The other reason is that I have been rather preoccupied with some health stuff and have been doing a lot of personal writing on that topic. I’m hoping that things are getting on a good track now and I will be able to balance that and this. But you know, trying to be healthy is like a JOB, man. It takes a lot of time, thinking, preparation, and more time. Which is why busy people who don’t think about being healthy are often… unhealthy. I wasn’t keen on spending a whole lot of time thinking about it, until it came up and kicked me in the butt.

So unfortunately this happened after that big proclamation that I was going to write every day. Har dee har har. That did not happen. But I’m trying to not stress over it. It will happen when it happens. Like when I’m 65, or something.

Going to AWP did remind me how very much I do love writing though – and talking about it, thinking about it, debating, musing, doing it. I love everything about it. I love writers. I adored meeting my Literary Mama comrades very much. It was all good.

And for those of you who wondered, I chose to read “McMemories” at the Chicago reading. And sat down and thought, what a dumb choice. But then this couple approached me afterward (she commented on the poll blog) and told me their parents had just moved in and how much the column had resonated for them! So it was actually the right choice after all.

I think this blog post took me all of seven minutes to type out. I have to remember that when I think I “don’t have time to blog.”

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