Volume VIII, Issue 3
January 21, 2019
Dear ,
Happy Martin Luther King Day! I always think about dreams on this day, for an obvious reason. I hope that you are thinking about dreams, too—dreams for a peaceful world with
liberty and justice for all, dreams for your family and community, and dreams for you.
Some years ago, I facilitated many groups of folks engaging in a process of recovering their creativity through a process called The Artist's Way, a book
by Julia Cameron. There were rules for being the facilitator, the most important being to be fully engaged in the process yourself. And there were rules for participants. The one that has stayed with me, which is my mantra for the work I do through WordPlay,
is "We are meant to midwife dreams for one another." I fervently believe this is so!
Now, I don't go around telling everyone that I'm a dream midwife for a living, but I do take dreams very seriously, both my own and others'. So I was thrilled when longtime WordPlayer Caroline Castle Hicks finally, after numerous obstacles of all
sorts, fulfilled her dream of publishing a beautiful new update of her beautiful book of essays, Such Stuff As Stars Are Made Of.
Caroline is this week's featured writer, which fact will answer a question you perhaps have, "What's 'lemon sorbet' got to do with it?"
Well, scroll on down to read her essay, and see for yourself. What dreams and lemon sorbet have in common, it turns out, is "The unmistakable tang of possibility."
Speaking of dreams, I love that one of mind and one of Caroline's are coming true near to the same time. We go back a long way. (My new book is almost ready, which is good, because Groundhog Day will be here soon. Look for the invitation on the way down to read
Caroline's essay, and learn more about her and her book.)
I'll be telling you more about it soon, but couldn't resist giving you a sneak preview.
Wishing you the joy and fulfillment of dreams come true this year, and hope to see you soon,
Maureen
Upcoming WordPlay
YOU'RE INVITED TO THE WORDPLAY
GROUNDHOG DAY OPEN HOUSE!
DROP IN BETWEEN 1 AND 5 P.M.
ON SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 2ND
AT THE WORDPLAY STUDIO
NEAR STONECREST SHOPPING CENTER
IN SOUTH CHARLOTTE.
There’ll be take-home writing prompts,
book giveaways, mingling with fellow writers,
and other fun. Everyone attending will have
(if desired) the opportunity to practice his or her
"elevator speech" for a published book or one in progress
and to put out copies of one of their own books for sale
(with prior approval).
Hope you can drop by. I’d love to visit and talk writing with you!
I'll also be unveiling my new book,
TAG, I’M IT,A Daily Practice of Thanks-giving,
Act-knowledge-ment, and Gratitude,
so that, if you'd like to try out this process,
you'll have detailed directions
and a dedicated place to record your own daily
thanks-giving, "act-knowledge-ments"
(A bit of "WordPlay I'll explain in a future zine),
and gifts that you're grateful for—
that's the "TAG" part. The "I'm It?"
That's about choosing three most-important-to-you
"acts" (actions, accomplishments, etc.)
you'll do the next day. (Bill Murray, in the movie,
Groundhog Day, sure did this in style!)
WANT TO COME?
RSVP to info@wordplaynow.com
for directions & details.
More WordPlay opportunities here.
"[Maureen's] nurturing spirit and uncanny teaching skill make WordPlay a powerful wellspring for all of us who long to bring our creativity to life."
A former high school English and Humanities teacher, Caroline Castle Hicks, author of Such Stuff As Stars Are Made of: Thoughts on Savoring the Wonders in Everyday Life, is an award-winning freelance writer and poet. Her essays and poems have appeared in numerous publications, including two editions of the popular Chicken Soup for the
Soul series as well as Open My Eyes, Open My Soul, an anthology published in commemoration of Martin Luther King Jr.’s 75th birthday. She has also been a regular public radio commentator on Charlotte, North Carolina’s NPR affiliate, WFAE 90.7 FM.
What Caroline says about WordPlay
In the dedication of my first book, from which my essay “A Taste for Lemon Sorbet” is taken, I wrote that Maureen’s “remarkable writing and creativity classes have transformed me from
somebody who ‘always wanted to be a writer’ into somebody who is one.” Maureen often refers to herself as a “creative midwife,” and over the course of our 25-year friendship, she has indeed labored with me, nudging, encouraging and breathing my writing dreams into being. As I’m sure many of her other students could attest, she is often an incubator as well, keeping our dreams warm until we come to believe
in them as much as she does. Her nurturing spirit and uncanny teaching skill make WordPlay a powerful wellspring for all of us who long to bring our creativity to life.
Every year, during that peculiar no-man’s-land of time between Christmas and New Year’s, I’ve been known to indulge in a rather unbecoming fit of post-holiday blues. The Christmas season, with its lights and fir trees, its butter cookies and general coziness, has always been my favorite time of year. As an adult, I must confess that I have continued to succumb to that childlike after-Christmas
melancholy, when after all those weeks of buildup and anticipation, I must accept the reality that the party is most definitely over. Each year, as I’ve walked listlessly from room to room, surveying a tree that is dropping an increasing number of needles, a Christmas tablecloth now decorated with bread crumbs and cranberry stains, and tins upon tins of goodies that are tasting staler by the day, I have despaired that there is nothing left but to leave the warmth of candles and carols behind and
venture out into the bleak and barren wasteland that is January.
I might have continued this pathetic yearly tradition for the rest of my life if my fourteen-year-old daughter Mariclaire had not chosen to reveal herself as a philosopher—and perhaps, a budding psychologist and poet as well. Upon once again hearing my pitiful lament at having to box up all the decorations and toss our pretty tree on the curb, she cast me one of those fed-up, assessing glances at
which teenagers are so adept.
“Mom,” she said, “I know I’m supposed to be sad that Christmas is over, but I’m not. I like January. Christmas is great and everything, but it’s kind of like eating cheesecake. The first few bites are really good, but then it starts tasting too rich and you just want to push it away and have something like lemon sorbet. To me, January is lemon sorbet.”
Now, as a writer, I am always on the lookout for a good metaphor and a mother’s bias notwithstanding, I had to admit that this was one of the best I’d heard in quite a while. And like many a memorable and pithy remark, hers had the power to alter a whole way of thinking. Unwittingly, my wise daughter had given me the gift of a fresh perspective and I resolved then and there to quit whining and to
begin viewing the entire de-Christmas-ing process in a new light. Rather than seeing it as a depressing chore, just maybe I could turn it into a kind of sacrament, a benediction to the old year and a path-clearing for the new one.
The philosopher Simone Weil once said that “the future is made of the same stuff as the present.” To some extent, I think that’s true, but in light of my daughter’s philosophy, it seems a bit jaded now. In January, if we let it, the future can feel like different stuff. Newer stuff.
As a symbolic gesture, I made some lemon sorbet for the family, and although it’s sometimes hard to tell with fourteen-year-olds, I think Mariclaire was pleased at my ability to come around. And as I stood there squeezing lemons in my newly undecorated kitchen, their clean, citrus scent filled the room, infusing the air with freshness and the unmistakable tang of
possibility.
From Such Stuff As Start Are Made Of, on Amazon here.
WordPlay Now! Writing Prompt
This is WordPlay—so why not revel in the power and potential of one good word after another? This week, it's "dream."
PROMPT: Make a list of your own dreams, whether
they are writing-related or not. Take one small step toward one of them. Ten minutes! Connect with someone who can help, do a bit of research, make a list of what you can see you'll need to do, etc.
It's fun to play with prompts in community with fellow writers, and to be able to share the results when you're done. You can find out about WordPlay classes, workshops, and retreats here.
MAUREEN RYAN GRIFFIN, an award-winning poetry and nonfiction writer, is the author of Spinning Words into Gold, a Hands-On Guide
to the Craft of Writing, a grief workbook entitled I Will Never Forget You, and three collections of poetry, Ten Thousand Cicadas Can't Be Wrong, This Scatter of Blossoms and When the Leaves Are in the Water.
She believes, as author Julia Cameron says, "We are meant to midwife dreams for one another." Maureen also believes that serious "word work" requires serious WordPlay, as play is how we humans best
learn—and perform. What she loves best is witnessing all the other dreams that come true for her clients along the way. Language, when used with intentionality and focus, is, after all, serious fuel for joy. Here's to yours!
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