Meeting Minutes November 27, 2011

This was our last meeting for the year since the church (and all of us) will be busy with Christmas for the next month.
Our leader today was Nancy.
We also celebrated Ron's upcoming 80th birthday on Dec 10. We sang Happy Birthday and ate chocolate cake for such a momentous occasion!!!  Happy Birthday, Ron!

Business:

A reminder about the Christmas luncheon on Dec 11 at Noon at Kelsey's Restaurant.
Members will be responsible for paying for their own meals and we hope for a great turn out! Please contact Patricia if you haven't responded yet.

Marilyn asked about the Artist's Way group that had been discussed on Oct 16 & 30th. While the group did respond about where and when we meet, we have met each Friday since Nov 11 and will be closed to new members due to the nature of the discussions. In case you haven't read the book, the discussions are very personal and follow the exercises laid out by Julia Cameron. A certain degree of trust and discretion have already been established in those three weeks that would be disrupted by newcomers.  If there is demand, a new workshop may run in the spring.

Ron reminded us about the group he's been involved with Women Writing for a Change. He will send further information.

Diane announced an upcoming show put on by students at ODSS on Dec 15 and 16 at 7pm called "Deadline" about "budding writer, Alex Wilcox, as he struggles to meet an ultimatum set by his father to become published within three weeks." Tickets are available at the door at a cost of $8 per adult and $6 per senior/student.
Sounds like a great event to support an amazing school and fellow artists!

Readings:

Joe got a lot out of Marilyn's premise exercise from last meeting and wrote a premise for his book. He did a great job of it.

Marilyn wrote "The Art of Writing" which stated that "even if it only pleases you, it is good writing." She will post it to the blog for all of us.

Nancy read "Reflections from The Artist's Way" and asked "why do we compare our art with seasoned artists?" and "why can we always hear the negative, but put aside the positive."

Clare passed around pictures about an article he has coming out in the spring issue of Sideroads. The article is about Birds of Prey and he had some amazing photos of a bald eagle and falcon he had the opportunity to meet. There were also pictures of a tree in his yard that he had cut to a stump that was 5 feet tall. He plans to carve it and has already made a dent in it - so to speak.

Shirley is having hip surgery Nov 28th. We all wish her well and hope she has a speedy recovery.

Prompts:

Nancy's writing prompts for this week were plays on movie or book titles:

1) A Few Bad Men (A Few Good Men)
2) Alive Again (Dead Again)
3) The World According to _____________ (my mother, my sister, me, my husband, etc.)
4) It's a Crappy Life (It's a Wonderful Life)
5) Murder in the Writing Group (Murder in Hum Harbour by our own Jayne Self!)

OR let's start at the beginning when I took my first writing workshop with the late Ed Wildman (we base our format on his workshops that he learned from Natalie Goldberg):
1) What I don't remember is....
2) What I remember is....
or 3) The last thing I remember is....

Marilyn made up new titles and premises to books and movies.
Sonja wrote "Lord of the Fries", an interview with Ronald McDonald.
Danielle told us about "The World According to my Daughter."
Trina read the beginning of a good mystery called "The Potato Chip Girl."
Kelli used the prompts "What I remember is..."
Jayne wrote "It's hard to put into words what I don't remember because I can't remember." To which Patricia told us that'd she'd posted a message "How do you know you're not seeing it if you're not seeing it?" Anyone confused yet?
Judy wrote "Murder in the Writing Group."
Patricia did some personal writing based on her learnings in The Artist's Way and used the prompt "It's a Crappy Life."
Nancy wrote "In another life, I'd be queen of the whole world." She also read a poem by the late Janet Bellinger called "In Another Life."
I read my piece called "The World According to Brady" which is part of another novel called "The Bakery Lady."
Ron wrote "It's a Wonderful Crappy Life" and thanked us all for the cake and well wishes. He was very touched by it all.
Clare made a play on "The Good, The Bad and The Ugly" and came up with "The Good, The Stupid and The Sexy." He also made us all laugh!
Joe didn't use any of the prompts, but made a commentary about the Internet.

As they say in showbiz, Th-th-th-that's all Folks! See you all in 2012!
We'll be back for our next meeting on January 8th, 2012.
Diane will be leading and will gladly hand over the reins to anyone else who would like to take meeting minutes for the next year!!!


Merry Christmas, everyone!


Diane

READING ALOUD - CONTINUED

This is for Diane who commented that she couldn't wait ...

From Reading Aloud posted on February 25, 2010 - I've only cut and pasted the last part of the post.

He started with the prompt, what I don’t remember is . . .

When I wrote what I don’t remember in my journal, I held on to the pen so tight that my fingers started to cramp. Oh God, please don’t take me there. A memory from my troubled family home had surfaced. I fought it. I wrote out what I don’t remember is . . . at least five times.

For the last five years, I’d been writing morning pages (The Artist Way by Julia Cameron) and I’d become accustomed to going where the pen took me. I knew if I didn’t go with “flow” that I’d experience writer’s block. So I wrote the dreaded memory.I’d listened to the others read their writing. Most of it contained phrases like what I don’t remember is what I went upstairs for …”

“Nancy,” Ed said. “Would you like to read your piece?”

My voice shook. “I didn’t what to write what I wrote because I knew that I’d have to read it. But I went where the pen took me.”

This is the piece that I wrote on October 25, 2001. I've changed a few words but have left it in its raw state.

WRITING PRACTICE – ED WILDMAN – OCTOBER 25, 2001

What I don’t remember is any love or affection in my family and I don’t know if love ever resided in our home. The violence started when my mother became pregnant with me. My mother told my father that she wanted an abortion, as life had become difficult with two small children and living in a single bedroom upstairs in my grandmother’s house. She couldn’t cope with the idea of another child.

My father flew into a rage and made his first accusation. “THIS BABY ISN’T MINE,” he said.

My mother’s life and mine were doomed. As luck would have it, my mother suffered through three days of labour with a breech birth. My blue eyes condemned me.

“She can’t be mine, my father said. “Those blue eyes don’t come from me.”

The battle lines were drawn.

My parents fighting in the kitchen created my earliest memories. My father is yelling at my mother.

“You and damn bastard child,” he said.

I sit alone in my highchair watching in despair. What kind of insanity is this? Unloved, unwanted cursed with blue eyes. I am the reason my father became a drunk.

My father continues yelling. “You whore. You’re nothing but a whore.

I am my father’s excuse to abuse my mother.

________________________

What I remember is my wedding day. The fight the night before had exhausted me. I definitely couldn’t wait to leave my parent’s home. After my mother’s vicious attack, I lay on the floor crying for six hours. I never cried and they wanted to take me to the hospital but I refused.

I remember that the sun shone across the windowpane when I looked up at the thermometer it registered 80 degrees. It felt like a scene from a movie. It seemed like somebody else had taken my place and went through the motions. I observed and smiled.

The happiest day of my life—ruined by my mother’s temper tantrum. My parents’ gifts to me never included happiness.

It felt surreal standing on the lawn of the house that held many secrets. My father had been drinking, what a surprise. They loved the drama.

I sat in a daze in the back of the car that took me to the church. The shock of my mother’s attack still drained me and I continued to observe. I stood at the altar beside my husband to be and watched as a part of me felt locked away. I knew the priest spoke but I couldn’t make out the words.

My husband nudged me and I arrived at a particular scene but exactly where? To this day, my husband kids me that the priest had to ask me twice before I said I do. I never explained that fear and anxiety held me prisoner and I’d left.

Ed just said one more minute to write. Why is this stuff showing up a writing course when I have to read it aloud?

I married on my birthday yet nobody in my family wished me happy birthday but my new husband.

_____________________________


Later, Ed would say, "When Nancy read her writing, she freed the rest of the writers to write."

I've acquired gems from my journal and my writing practice.

Why not try it?