38Write: And We’re Off! Here, There & Everywhere!

38Write—my new global writing initiative—is a monthly series of online writing adventure workshops for place-passionate, culturally curious writers around the world. Each writing adventure focuses on one particular aspect of craft or the writing life (for example, writing kick-butt descriptions), and during each 38-hour adventure, you’ll be connecting with me and 38Write writers around the world via a Twitter hashtag. It’s new. It’s different. It’s mad fun!


And so, 38Write | Description—the first in the monthly series—has launched.

13 writers in 7 countries:

China (Suzhou & Shanghai)

India

Australia

U.K.

France

Belgium

U.S.

At midnight-ish (U.S., Eastern Standard Time), I emailed the 38Write | Description missive. Writers have 38 hours (from noon on their Saturday, June 2) to complete the adventures and writing assignments.

We’re Tweeting the workshop at #38Write. Check out the conversation.

And if you’re interested in the next 38Write workshop, sign up for email updates. The announcement is coming soon!

Mojo Monday: Edward Harran’s TedxBrisbane Talk About Imagination

It’s Mojo Monday, and as always, I’ve got a little something-something to lift your creative spirits, buoy you up, help you get your mojo on, and nudge (or better yet, catapult) you into writerhead.


Granted, these TEDx talks take a time commitment, but this one in which Ed Harran talks about his “creative, spiritual labor”? Worth it.

Writerhead Wednesday: Featuring Cher Fischer

Welcome to Writerhead Wednesday, a weekly feature in which a brilliant, charming, remarkable author talks about her/his writerhead…a precious opportunity for looky-loos around the world to sneak into the creative noggins of talented writers and (ever so gently) muck about.


About Cher Fischer’s debut novel Falling Into Green, the Huffington Post says, “[Falling Into Green] is an eco-mystery set at a fast pace, punched through with staccato sentences, twisting plot, shifting landscape, and a mighty heroine for the 21st century.”

Now listen to what author Cher Fischer has to say about her writerhead.

Remember…no talking! And pay close attention. There just may be a quiz at the end.

1. Describe your state of writerhead (the where, the when, the how, the what, the internal, the external).

Writerhead is the “river” for me. I see it as a river. I always have the choice to jump in, or not. When I first started visualizing a river, it used to scare me a bit. I’d see myself stand next to the clear, rushing water, then tentatively stick a toe in, knowing that if I actually took the plunge and jumped, something in my life would change, because the river would carry me away to who knows where? So I’d hesitate. And in that moment of hesitation, the river itself would be gone. I actually hesitated for years, while still trying to write. But the text that I wrote would be stilted, jumbled, forced—no flow. No river current. Needless to say, my first work(s) were not good. I was rejected more than a few times, because the river that needs to carry both the writer and the reader’s imagination away—just wasn’t there. I distinctly remember when I finally allowed myself to jump into the river. It was in grad school for psychology, writing my master’s thesis on a subject very close to me—the peaceful behaviors of the bonobo chimpanzee—and I wanted the thesis to really resonate on a visceral level for people because the bonobo is on the verge of extinction, so I had to let my fear go and jump into that river! I walked up to the rushing water, threw myself in, and let my mind run with the waves and ripple over rocks and lay smooth in placid pools. I was told later that my thesis was able to carry a few other minds forth with the thought of protecting the bonobo. So that was my first experience of writerhead: the powerful current in the river. Now, I enjoy riding the waves, jump in every chance I get, which could be an apt lead-in for the next question…

2. What happens if someone/something interrupts writerhead? (a spouse, a lover, a barking dog, an electrical outage, a baby’s cry, a phone call, a leg cramp, a dried-up pen, a computer crash, etc.)

Sometimes, my husband thinks I’m drowning in the river. Not literally, of course—but definitely figuratively. He casts out lifelines to me: a sandwich, coffee, or a question about a bill. I say, “Can’t the bill wait until later?” He’ll smile, knowing I’m still alive, swimmingly so. My two dogs, however, aren’t concerned for my safety; they’re simply annoyed that I’m writing at all since they feel if I’m out of bed, I should be walking them—even if I’ve just taken them for a four-mile hike! They make sure to create a big doggie show right next to my writing chair, they wrestle and roll, their athletic tumbles shaking the house, and I’m convinced that if they could, they would holler, “We want attention!” I figure that’s also what my husband wants, especially when he queries about the bill. My son, on the other hand, who’s nine and has the right to clamor for attention, likes to write himself, so while I write, he writes, lost in his own writerhead. One day, I’ll ask him what writerhead means to him. But for now, I don’t interfere with the process.

3. Using a simile or metaphor, compare your writerhead to something.

For me, writerhead is like being a salmon on a salmon run except I never feel as if I’m swimming upstream.

BIO:  Cher Fischer is an ecopsychologist who received her doctorate in clinical psychology in 2004. She was a professor of psychology at Ryokan College in Los Angeles and has worked with at-risk families and children as well as practiced health psychology in several hospitals.

She is the author, with Heather Waite, of Moving from Fear to Courage: Transcendent Moments of Change in the Lives of Women (Wildcat Canyon Press, 2001), which was a Los Angeles Times bestseller.

Born near a Superfund site in Spokane, Washington, and raised amid the lush nature of Minnesota, Fischer has long been involved in environmental issues and is passionate about the green movement in the United States. She is currently the head of the Green Team at her son’s elementary school, which is implementing sustainable strategies in the classrooms and throughout the campus. Falling Into Green is her first novel.

To learn more, visit Cher at her website or give her a wave on Facebook.

 

Introducing…The 38Write Writing Adventure Workshop Series for Place-Passionate Writers

Writers, last week I introduced 38Write, my new global writing initiative. And today…

(drum roll, please…)

…I’m wildly excited to unveil the 38Write writing adventure series for place-passionate, culturally curious writers around the world.

So yes, yes, welcome to 38Write…a series of 38-hour writing adventures, each of which will focus on one particular aspect of craft or the writing life.

The first in the series—38Write | Description—will take place on Saturday, June 2, 2012. You’ll have 38 hours to complete the assignments and send me your strongest piece of writing for feedback. (To sign up and read all the juicy details, visit the CLASSES page of this site.)

38Write is not your run-of-the-mill writing workshop. It’s a writing adventure designed specifically for place-passionate, culturally curious writers that will get you out of your house—no matter where you live—and into your environs.

 

The Unique Aspects of 38Write

  • Each writing adventure is 38 hours long. It’s a manageable amount of time that fits into anyone’s busy schedule. (Good gracious, no, you will not be writing or adventuring for 38 hours straight. I’m ambitious for you, but not crazy. You will need approximately 2-4 hours to work during the 38-hour period…give or take an hour.)
  • Each writing adventure will focus on one particular aspect of craft or the writing life. You will not be writing an entire essay or short story. Some adventures will focus on a skill, like writing kick-butt descriptions; others might get you to look at what inspires you or how you move from idea to writing.
  • During each 38-hour period, you’ll be able to connect with me and 38Write writers around the world via a Twitter hashtag. (How cool is that?!)
  • You will get feedback from me. (For more info about me, click here.)
  • Terrific for folks writing fiction, essays, or memoir.
  • Beginners and experienced writers are welcome.
  • It’s affordable. A single 38Write writing adventure costs only $38 (U.S.).

 

Why Am I Creating 38Write?

While living, writing, and teaching writing in Shanghai, I learned (and/or relearned) a number of things:

    1. Each of us has a heck of a lot to learn from folks in other countries (and not usually the things we think we need to learn).
    2. Story is an international conversation that can help us better understand one another.
    3. By helping writers from all over the world to improve their craft, I can play a wee role in facilitating this global conversation.
    4. Writing is recursive. You must practice. (And if I do say so myself, I’m pretty darn good at getting writers to practice.)

 

Is 38Write For You?

38Write adventures are designed for all place-passionate writers, including expats and repats, globetrotters, armchair travelers, nomads, cultural spelunkers, deeply rooted souls, mapmakers and mapbreakers, wanderers and wayfarers, voyagers, and all writers interested in exploring and writing about their environs.

So, yup, if you’re asking, 38Write is probably for you.

 

To learn more and sign up for 38Write | Description, visit CLASSES.

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Camels: Photokanok / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Beach: Simon Howden / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Jodhpur: Image: think4photop / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Writerhead Wednesday: Featuring Caroline Leavitt

Welcome to Writerhead Wednesday, a weekly feature in which a brilliant, charming, remarkable author talks about her/his writerhead…a precious opportunity for looky-loos around the world to sneak into the creative noggins of talented writers and (ever so gently) muck about.


I love Caroline Leavitt’s energy…her joy…her tenacious dedication to her writing. I’ve followed her on Twitter and Facebook for a good while, delighting in the wild success she’s had with her ninth novel Pictures of You. I’m honored to host her here on Writerhead.

So, lovely writerheads, sit back and relax. Stretch out your legs. Pour a cup of coffee…or a cocktail. And enjoy!

1. Describe your state of writerhead (the where, the when, the how, the what, the internal, the external).

I’ve never done heroin, but I imagine that being in writerhead is like the first, heady shot, a state so supposedly amazing that you keep desperately trying to refind it again and again and again—no matter what it takes to get there. I love that state, and yes, I’m totally addicted to it, and yes, I’d do anything (well, almost anything) to get into it.

When I’m in the writerhead zone, I hear and see nothing but what’s on the page. When I am in that zone, all that exists are the characters, the story world, and me—and it’s so profoundly wonderful that I wish I could stay in that state forever. It feels so real and the experience is absolutely heady. Of course, those are on the good days. The bad days fray my nerves. There have been weeks when I have gotten up at 5 in the morning and written until midnight and nothing is working and the panic keeps me from eating or sleeping. (Those days are usually when my husband is out of town, because when he’s home, he worriedly refuses to let me skip sleep or meals! And I do always attend to my son when he’s home from school, though in an altered state.) There have been moments when I’m so panicked I burst into tears, but I keep working. I always keep working.

Getting there into the glories of writerhead, however, is not easy. I have to trick myself at first, with rituals. Coffee. Exercise (sometimes). Music blasting. Alphabetizing my books first. (Always.) I try not to get up for at least four hours. I have to rewrite pages to prime the pump. Sometimes I do Truby Story Structure exercise thingies to get things moving. Writerhead almost never kicks in until at least an hour has passed, but once it’s there, I relax.

I don’t like being interrupted because it definitely stops the flow, so I tend to not answer the phone and to avoid email, FB, twitter and more unless I need them for research, which does happen!

I always try to stop before I feel the writerhead state leaving me. That way, I leave on a high note. I remember the intoxication, and it propels me back the next day.

2. What happens if someone/something interrupts writerhead? (a spouse, a lover, a barking dog, an electrical outage, a baby’s cry, a phone call, a leg cramp, a dried-up pen, a computer crash, etc.)

It’s not pretty. Once, I was deeply working when I felt a tap on my shoulder and I jerked around to see my astonished husband and teenaged son standing there, staring at me in disbelief. “Didn’t you hear us shouting for you?” Jeff, my husband asked.

“We were practically screaming,” Max, my son said. “I think the whole city heard us.”

I shrugged, one eye back on my work. “I was working,” I said.

“What if there had been a fire?” Jeff said. “Or an emergency?”

“I guess I would have smelled the fire,” I said, but I knew that wasn’t true, because the only odor in my head was the smoky city of my novel.

“That’s not good,” Jeff said. “You have to listen better.”

Now, both my husband and son think it’s problematic and funny. Their favorite game at dinner is to wait until I’m drifting off to writerhead and then to say something like, “Oh, look, the kitchen is on fire.” Or, “Who’s that intruder with a gun in the living room?”

Sometimes I catch them and calmly answer back, “Get the extinguisher” or “Call the police.” But sometimes, I don’t.

3. Using a simile or metaphor, compare your writerhead to something.

For me, writerhead is like living in a parallel and paradise world where you’re in a constant, heady state of love, but you aren’t sure if it’s requited, but it might be. And that, of course, compels you to keep writing on to find out

BIO: Caroline Leavitt is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of Pictures of You, which was also a San Francisco Chronicle Lit Pick, a Costco Pennie’s Pick, and on the Best Books of 2011 lists from the San Francisco Chronicle, The Providence Journal, Bookmarks Magazine, and Kirkus Reviews. A senior writing instructor at UCLA Writers Program online, her new novel, Is It Tomorrow, will be published by Algonquin Books in the spring of 2013. She can be reached at www.carolineleavitt.com.

You can give Caroline a literary high-five in any number of places: her website, her wonderfully writerly blog, Facebook, and, of course, Twitter (@Leavittnovelist).

Mojo Monday: Andre Dubus III & Richard Russo Discuss “Why Write a Memoir?”

It’s Mojo Monday, and as always, I’ve got a little something-something to lift your creative spirits, buoy you up, help you get your mojo on, and nudge (or better yet, catapult) you into writerhead.


Over at The Daily Beast, Townie author Andre Dubus III and Empire Falls author Richard Russo chitchat about how memoir writing differs from fiction writing. Interesting conversation…

 

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Image: David Castillo Dominici / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Introducing 38Write: A Global Writing Initiative

[Almost] every Saturday for the past year, I’ve written a blog post under the Expat Sat umbrella, in which I’ve shared info/stories/writing contests/etc. specifically for expat writers around the world. It’s been a great gig, but in recent months, I’ve acknowledged that my interest in sharing/teaching/mentoring/learning from/connecting with writers has expanded to include writers outside the specific expat experience.

Don’t get me wrong. I adore, and will always adore, working with expat writers. Because they’ve hunkered down in countries other than their own for extended periods of time, they’ve got insight into culture and self that no others will ever have, and they (you!) will continue to be a big part of my writing/teaching intention.

But I’m wildly interested in engaging with ALL intrepid, place-passionate, culturally curious, “globally unbound”* writers, whether they’re living as expats in Indonesia or exploring culture right in their own back yards, and I want to invite them (you!) into this writing experience.

And so, with a hearty smooch, I’m closing the door to Expat Sat, and from here on out, I’ll be sharing a weekly blog post each Friday centered on my new global writing initiative: 38Write.

In significant ways, 38Write reflects my own life. I’m from the United States; my husband is from Ireland; my daughter is from Vietnam; and as a family, we lived in China for nearly five years. Despite the fact that I’m once again living in the U.S., I no longer feel purely “American.” Parts of me have been scattered around the world; and in return, I’ve gathered up and now carry parts of the world within me. As a result, I’ve become an intrepid, place-passionate, culturally curious, “globally unbound”* writer, and I cherish this.

What’s to come with 38Write?

Lots of exciting stuff, including a 38Write worldwide writing adventure that I’ll be announcing next week.

Thanks for listening. Stay tuned!

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*A quick nod to my virtual pals over at Global NicheAnastasia Ashman and Tara Lutman Agacayak—with whom I’ve conversed about global niche ideas over the past year or two. “Globally unbound” is their term…and one of my favorites. Check out their offerings. Wise, experienced, globally unbound women with unique perspective and great fire.)

Image: MR LIGHTMAN / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

 

Writerhead Wednesday: Featuring Keith Cronin

Welcome to Writerhead Wednesday, a weekly feature in which a brilliant, charming, remarkable author talks about her/his writerhead…a precious opportunity for looky-loos around the world to sneak into the creative noggins of talented writers and (ever so gently) muck about.


When I spoke about Writerhead last week at the PechaKucha event in Kennebunkport, Maine, I told folks in the audience that every writer’s writerhead was unique and that how every writer talks about her/his writerhead is unique.

This week, Keith Cronin—the fantastic author of Me Again—has proven me right. His take on writerhead is unique, hilarious, honest, and—though I’ve never met him—I suspect, very, very Keith.

Enjoy!

1. Describe your state of writerhead (the where, the when, the how, the what, the internal, the external).

You might think of it as the ultimate backstage pass. As a professional musician, I’ve lived most of my adult life around rock stars. And as anybody who’s ever attempted to meet a rock star has learned, it’s all about access. You can’t get close to them without the right backstage pass (they come in gradations, from Peon to VIP), your name properly spelled on the guest list (a rare and miraculous occurrence), or a sudden covert text message from a roadie named Spike whom you befriended during your misspent youth, telling you at which gate in the arena to wait for him to slip you backstage to meet your idol. And only a very, very select few are blessed with one of those cool laminated passes that you hang around your neck on a lanyard, with those two ultimately empowering words on them: ALL ACCESS.

That’s what writerhead feels like—a highly anticipated but all-too-rare moment when you are granted passage beyond EVERY obstacle that stands between you and your goal: in this case, writing with the passion, grace and confidence of the awesome writer you know you can be (but are so rarely allowed to be).

My hat’s off to people who can get into that kind of zone or headspace at will. For me, the muse is both a powerful and elusive force. So I relish those moments when I’m granted access to the rushing literary waterfall that a good dose of writerhead can open up.

But I do my part to facilitate these moments. I clear time during the part of the day when my creativity is at its sharpest; I surround myself with tools and gadgets to help me capture the inspiration, including a voice recorder, a NEO word processor that boots up in seconds, and even a scuba diver’s underwater writing slate (for capturing ideas in the shower, a brilliant idea I picked up from writer Tracy Hahn-Burkett). I also repeat the odd rituals that I’ve found have triggered writerhead in the past, such as going for a drive, taking a shower, etc. The driving thing is what works best for me: after noticing how often I’d get cool ideas while driving somewhere, I’ve started hopping in my car with no destination in mind, for the express purpose of prompting more ideas.

2. What happens if someone/something interrupts writerhead? (a spouse, a lover, a barking dog, an electrical outage, a baby’s cry, a phone call, a leg cramp, a dried-up pen, a computer crash, etc.)

Two things can interrupt writerhead: people and stuff.

Of the two, stuff is definitely the more challenging opponent. By this I mean things like having to go to work in order to earn a living, fixing the toilet (which seems to be set on a recurring semiannual auto-destruct sequence), or getting an emergency root canal. Let’s face it, these are all hard to avoid. So the best you can do is to plan some workarounds: get up early to write before work and/or set aside writing time on weekends; stock up on spare parts for the toilet; and only eat soft foods and keep ample amounts of Scotch on hand to serve as a dental anesthetic.

People-based interruptions are different, because they require something that is often in short supply when in the throes of writerhead—I’m talking about diplomacy. When you’re truly cranking on what might well be The Greatest Book Ever Written In All Of Human History, it’s hard to summon the strength and presence of mind to look up and utter a gentle, “What was that, honey?” to your interrupter (who is inevitably your romantic partner or a beloved child) without a certain undertone of annoyance. And trust me, your own annoyance never goes over well with others; indeed, it seems to only spark up a higher level of annoyance on the part of the interrupter, and then things really start to go south.

So I have taken to confronting such interruptions with a three-pronged response plan:

  1. The Look. The advantage of this approach is that you don’t say anything, which of course means that you don’t say anything stupid, which will only make your quality of life take a rapid plunge into the abyss. But be careful—there’s a lot of nuance involved. I recommend practicing The Look in front of the mirror, until you’ve mastered the fine distinction between the look that says “I’m a little busy right now, so maybe you might want to try me later, but don’t forget I love you more than anything on earth” and the one that says “How DARE you interrupt my moment of genius, and thus impede me from writing what might well be The Greatest Book Ever Written In All Of Human History, you insensitive baboon?!?” In situations where The Look is not successful, you will need to escalate your efforts, and go to the second stage:
  2. The Sigh. Now you’re bringing some audio into the equation, while still avoiding the risk involved in actually speaking. But again, nuance is important. You want to avoid too much Overt Exasperation, instead going for a blend of Charitably Patient and Mildly Distracted, with a soupçon of Tormented Genius gently drizzled on top. Again, you’ll want to spend some time practicing this to get the sonic recipe just right. But when this doesn’t work, it’s time to proceed to the third and final stage:
  3. The Surrender. This entails putting down what you’re writing, taking a deep cleansing breath (trying not to allow your exhalation to be interpreted as Yet Another Sigh), and realizing that right now, writerhead just ain’t gonna happen.

3. Using a simile or metaphor, compare your writerhead to something.

Three words: writerhead is Drano.*

And I’m not talking your garden-variety, everyday basic Drano. I’m talking the industrial-strength, shock-and-awe, super-mega-nuclear-foaming-action with lasers version, which can cut through anything in less than the time it takes to update your Facebook status.

Because that’s what writerhead does: it cuts through the barrier between me and the story I want to tell. I’ll see the thing in my head, and know how good it can be—or at least how good I want it to be. But there are always those nasty clogs preventing the flow, which only writerhead can drill and burrow through. I just wish bottles of writerhead were available in stores. I’d buy it by the gallon.

* Please note that the author is receiving no compensation—either in the form of financial remuneration, commercial endorsements, or invitations to exclusive parties with supermodels—from Drano® or any of SC Johnson’s other fine brands. But he wouldn’t say no to a lifetime supply of Ziploc bags, or perhaps some of those cool plug-in Glade air-freshener thingies (having always thought the “Alpine Mist” scent was particularly nice). Oh, and the whole partying-with-supermodels thing would be okay, too.

BIO: Author of the novel Me Again, published in 2011 by Five Star/Gale, Keith Cronin is a corporate speechwriter and professional rock drummer who has performed and recorded with artists including Bruce Springsteen, Clarence Clemons, and Pat Travers. Keith’s fiction has appeared in Carve Magazine, Amarillo Bay, The Scruffy Dog Review, Zinos, and a University of Phoenix management course, and he is a regular contributor at the literary blog Writer Unboxed. A native of South Florida, Keith spends his free time serenading local ducks and squirrels with his ukulele. Visit him online at www.keithcronin.com or Facebook. Though he’s not wildly active on Twitter, feel free to give him a yodel there and he’ll probably yodel back (@KeithCronin). You can also watch the book trailer for Me Again here on YouTube.

Writerhead Wednesday: Featuring Jefferson Bass

Welcome to Writerhead Wednesday, a weekly feature in which a brilliant, charming, remarkable author talks about her/his writerhead…a precious opportunity for looky-loos around the world to sneak into the creative noggins of talented writers and (ever so gently) muck about.


I’m pretty sure Jefferson Bass is the first writer in this series to compare writerhead to “squeezing into a wardrobe and emerging into Narnia,” and oh, how spot on he is! It is like that (in the best moments of writerhead, that is).

Please give a warm welcome to Jefferson Bass, and remember, he’s a crime writer…this could get a little mysterious.

1. Describe your state of writerhead (the where, the when, the how, the what, the internal, the external).

Writerhead is often a crowded, chatty place for me to hang out. When I was writing The Inquisitor’s Key, I found myself eavesdropping on many intriguing conversations—conversations taking place inside my head and, magically, also in the glorious city of Avignon, France, home of the popes for most of the 14th century. One of my favorite conversationalists in The Inquisitor’s Key is a modern-day French detective, Inspector René Descartes (“I think I am a detective; therefore I am a detective…”); another is Laura de Noves, the young 14th-century countess whom Petrarch worshipped from afar—yet near enough that his conspicuously broken heart would be noticed, by Laura and everyone else in Avignon; a third is Meister Eckhart, the 14th-century mystic who said (among many fine, fresh things, “If the only prayer you ever say, your whole life, is ‘thank you,’ it will be enough.”) What a lucky guy I am: instead of getting straitjacketed, I get paid for hearing voices in my head!

2. What happens if someone/something interrupts writerhead? (a spouse, a lover, a barking dog, an electrical outage, a baby’s cry, a phone call, a leg cramp, a dried-up pen, a computer crash, etc.)

I’m reminded of the time I was writing my brilliant long poem “Kubla Khan” when I was interrupted by a gentleman from Porlock knocking at my door, causing me to forget most of the poem. Oh, wait, that happened to Coleridge, not me. I did, however, lose a full day’s hard, productive draft a couple years ago, when—on the one day in months when I’d failed to back up my work—my iBook died. It took me a week to get the machine fixed and attempt to recreate the missing work…and besides being maddened by the lost work and lost time, I was saddened, because I knew beyond a doubt that my reconstruction wasn’t as good. Thank heavens for Dropbox, which automatically backs me up even—especially!— when I’m deep in writerhead!

3. Using a simile or metaphor, compare your writerhead to something.

Finding myself in writerhead is like squeezing into a wardrobe and emerging into Narnia; like stepping through the skewed doorway of my monochrome, cyclone-spun farmhouse into a Technicolor realm over the rainbow. Some of it isn’t very nice—sometimes the murders and evil in writerhead send me into racking, convulsive sobs—but like Oz, most of it is beautiful. When I step back from my life as a writer, I’m often reminded of a lovely line from William Least Heat Moon’s interview with an old woman, a widow who was one of the five residents of Saffordville, Kansas. She and her neighbors lived on the first terrace of the Cottonwood River—a flood-prone, perilous location that Heat Moon wrote “whets a fine edge on their lives.” The widow had been flooded out many times but was still able to say, with wonder and gratitude, “Not everybody gets the chance to live like this.” Dwelling where I do, amid the droughts and floods of writerhead, I say “amen”…and “thank you.”

BIO: Jefferson Bass is the pen name of Jon Jefferson, writer, and Dr. Bill Bass, renowned forensic anthropologist. Jefferson and Bass have collaborated on two nonfiction books and six crime novels; their seventh novel, The Inquisitor’s Key, will be published May 8, 2012. Dr. Bass, founder of the University of Tennessee’s Body Farm, is an author on more than 200 scientific publications. Jon Jefferson is a veteran journalist and documentary filmmaker; his two National Geographic documentaries on the Body Farm were seen around the world.

If you’re properly intrigued and want to learn more about Jefferson Bass and The Inquisitor’s Key, there are oodles of way to do so:

If you’d like to visit Jefferson Bass elsewhere on his blog tour, here’s the spectacular lineup!

Photo: That’s the Jon Jefferson half of “Jefferson Bass” in the photo above.

Expat Sat: Writing Prompt

Welcome to Expat Sat, the culturally kooky, map nonspecific, sometimes bewildering, always fascinating intersection of expat life and writerhead. And where every Saturday, I offer tips for writing, publishing, and thriving to expat writers around the globe.


LOST/FOUND

 

Go! Start writing. Get thee to writerhead!