Here’s a new blog dedicated to Women Who Write!
Remember when the “Style” and “Life” sections of the newspaper were known as the Women’s Pages? Whether you find this idea bizarre, or are old enough to recall it vividly, if you are interested in womens writing, you are welcome here.
Founded by the members of the Accokeek Women’s Writing Group, The Women’s Pages publishes content of interest to women writers in all genres. Our aim is to provide support and share resources for the Writing Life, and help women’s voices flourish and grow.
If you’d like to become a posting member, leave a comment below.
After joining the blog, please post an introduction so we get to know your wonderful self.
1:15 to 3:00pm
Prince Georges Library System
15773 Livingston Rd.
Accokeek, MD 20607
Bring work to read, bring a friend!
Remember our ongoing assignment is to work on our own projects, and ask for support when we need it to keep on target.
A prompt-if-you-need-one: How the Holidays HELP us write.
Next Meeting: Monday January 13th
I met my NaNaWriMo goal and wrote 51,079 words in 30 days.
I’ve been thinking about how right now I can’t RUN a marathon, but I can WRITE one, and I’m so glad I hung in there when I really wanted to quit.
More later! For now, I am a wee bit tired of typing.
i carry your heart with me (i carry it in
my heart) i am never without it (anywhere
i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing, my darling)
i fear no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) i want
no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant…
I adore this poem. Fearless, fierce, funny, flagrantly true! As a person who takes risks, and has regrets that circle back like birds to a feeder, I just try not to feed them. This poem helps me realize two important things: regrets will come, whether I feed them or not. I shall do my best to continue not to feed them!
On the other hand, I fully intend to eat hearty today at Thanksgiving and I wish you the best feast ever. (Remember — don’t feed the regrets! They seem tame, but they are not!)
by Louis Jenkins
There’s no use in regret. You can’t change anything.
Your mother died unhappy with the way you turned
out. You and your father were not on speaking terms
when he died, and you left your wife for no good
reason. Well, it’s past. You may as well regret missing
out on the conquest of Mexico. That would have been
just your kind of thing back when you were eighteen:
a bunch of murderous Spaniards, out to destroy a
culture and get rich. On the other hand, the Aztecs
were no great shakes either. It’s hard to know whom
to root for in this situation. The Aztecs thought they
had to sacrifice lots of people to keep the sun coming
up every day. And it worked. The sun rose every day.
But it was backbreaking labor, all that sacrificing.
The priests had to call in the royal family to help,
and their neighbors, the gardener, the cooks…. You
can see how this is going to end. You are going to
have your bloody, beating heart ripped out, but you
are going to have to stand in line, in the hot sun, for
hours, waiting your turn.
“Regret” by Louis Jenkins, from Tin Flag: New and Selected Prose Poems. Will o’ the Wisp Books. © 2013
Hello Women’s Pages readers,
Here is a blog post that lists some resources I have mentioned during some of our Accokeek Women Writers Group meetings. I thought I would pass it along. -Valerie
There’s a video in this obit for Doris Lessing that charmed me and made me cry. She’s in her late 80s and annoyed by a flock of reporters informing her she’s won the Nobel in literature. I encourage you to give her a listen, all the way through.
I’m off to the Library to revisit her work.
Food for thought…. This poet wrote, about her poem “Evangelize Your Love: “I was thinking of Atwood’s story ‘Happy Endings.’ At the end of the story, the narrator defines plot as ‘a what and a what and a what. Now try How and Why.’ I love that.”
–Jillian Weise, from my Poem-a-Day subscription from the Academy of American Poets
From her poem, about affairs, sexting and tweets – whats and whys and hows woven together:
“News comes on, news goes off, taxes.
“At some point, he stopped kissing me
on the neck.” She needs to write
her Goals Statement. “He promised.”
More or less. “How can I live like this?”
the three of them in unison.”
Blogger, novelist and writing advice writer Chuck Wendig provided this clever little flow chart.
A warning, though, if you go to his site. He’s a potty-mouth.
Here’s a poem that tells a story without sentimentality, without that myth of grownup reflection back onto childhood that makes it seem perfect — but with the details that bring us back, if we’re willing, to that awkward, smooth, troublesome place we all grow through… And pay attention, if you want to be a better writer, to that extraordinary first line that echoes in the daily activity of living, that tells the story better than any I could imagine…
by Anne Sexton
A thousand doors ago,
when I was a lonely kid
in a big house with four
garages and it was summer
as long as I could remember,
I lay on the lawn at night,
clover wrinkling over me,
the wise stars bedding over me,
my mother’s window a funnel
of yellow heat running out,
my father’s window, half shut,
an eye where sleepers pass,
and the boards of the house
were smooth and white as wax
and probably a million leaves
sailed on their strange stalks
as the crickets ticked together
and I, in my brand new body,
which was not a woman’s yet,
told the stars my questions
and thought God could really see
the heat and the painted light,
elbows, knees, dreams, goodnight.
“Young” by Anne Sexton, from The Complete Poems. © Mariner Books, 1999.