Weekly Wide-Awake #30

[The Stage is on Fire] is a page-turner in which, much like life, there are no easy answers and yet each step of the journey yields insight and hope. This work of heart must not be missed!

Melanie Faith

Creative Writing Teacher, Essayist & Poet.

Katie Steedly’s first-person piece [The Unspeakable Gift] is a riveting retelling of her participation in a National Institutes of Health study that aided her quest to come to grips with her life of living with a rare genetic disorder. Her writing is superb.

The Society of Professional Journalists

In recognition of receiving the Dateline Award for the Washingtonian Magazine essay, The Unspeakable Gift.

I thank you … It is the authenticity of your “class notes”; and it is the delicacy and skill with which you present the nuances of classroom life and the actuality of your students’ and fellow teachers’ lives.

Maxine Greene

Philosopher and Education Scholar

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A Writing Community. Poetry. Beginnings.

Living The Comma #2

Giving. Shitty First Drafts. Anam Cara.

Dear Writing Friends,

Thank you for a wonderful November writing group yesterday. Sharing presence and words always lifts my spirits and feeds my imagination. I truly hope it does the same for you. Let’s head into this month — and season — feeling stronger and lighter knowing we walk (and write) together.

In the hope of continuing to build our community between our face-to-face meetings — and taking writerly-steps together along the way — I have gathered a writing prompt from Behida Dolić, writerly advice from Maria Popova (distilling Lamott’s challenge to write Shitty First Drafts), words of wisdom from John O’Donohue, and a poem from Joy Harjo. (A poem we wrote about yesterday.)

Feel free to share responses to the writing prompt, thoughts about the advice and wisdom offered, and/or pieces of your work that you would like us to look at, and/or other thoughts that might be swirling around as we pay attention and seek what we love in common (thank you for that concept Ross Gay) on my newsletter.

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

From the heart of the comma.

Katie

Participate in the writing community here.

MONDAYS ARE FREE EXERCISES 111—115

Viaje. Headlines. Release. Instructions. Tapestry.

EXERCISE 112: INTRODUCING THE NEW YORK SCHOOL OF POETS

A sudden turn

Write an imitation of Frank O’Hara’s “The Day Lady Died.” Include at least 1. a non-English language newspaper, 2. a specific brand of something that comes in a small box, and 3. a sudden turn into breathlessness.

It is 8:37 in Atlanta, Georgia on Monday, November 3/ and I am working on a weekly newsletter for my writing group./ It is 2025 about a year since the 2024 United States Presidential election./ Today — human kidnapping, environment distructing, government shutting, people starving, costs skyrocketing, soy beans rotting, layoffs slashing, East Wing of the White House demolishing, January 6^th rioters pardoning, eradicated diseases reemerging, Great Gatsby partying, local elections occurring, people protesting, legacy media capitulating, independent media investigating./ Deep breath.

What are they saying in Japan? I look at Yomiuri Shimbun — the largest circulated daily newspaper in the world. I read several of the most popular articles. “Japan’s deep-sea drilling vessel sets Guinness World Record.” “Japan team gets male sturgeon to switch sex, make roe for caviar.” “Giant mural at Hiroshima Airport screams ‘no more nukes’.” The world seems a little bigger when I think of deep-sea drilling, sturgeon sex switching, and art protesting. Deep-sea drilling, sturgeon sex switching, and art protesting. Deep-sea drilling, sturgeon sex switching, and art protesting.

I look at my small green box of La Mer. The face cream too expensive to justify. The face cream that soothes 50 couple. The face cream I stockpile just in case. The face cream that twice daily reminds me to drink more water. The face cream of comfort and glamour.

Read entire post here.

The Unknowable Beginning

On Quitting My Dream Job

I thought I knew myself when I quit my dream job — the job that had been my answer to the question, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” for many years. I laid on the couch eating ramen and cereal for a few days before I cleaned out my classroom during Christmas break. I smelled failure’s stench as I took down the posters and boxed up books. I tasted anger’s tears as I dropped my keys off at a colleague’s home before I left town. So broken I could barely breathe.

Read entire post here.