by Laurie Wagner | Apr 7, 2014 | Blog
Mostly we use poetry to inspire and jump start our Wild Writing classes over here at 27 Powers, but the other day I came across a letter my then 10-year-old Zoe wrote to her friends at school telling them why they should vote for her for student council. It captured everything I love about being a human being; these sometimes feeble, sometimes heroic attempts at love + living. I tell my students that they will get so good at Wild Writing that they can use the back of a cereal box to write from, and write something beautiful. So why not the plea of a 10-year-old girl who wants to run for office? “My name is Zoe Wagner and this is why you should pick me for student council… 1. I am not afraid to talk in front of the whole school. 2. I want to help everybody 3. You can trust me 4. I’ll work hard 5. I’ll make everything right” This is my riff on it in class this week: Why You Should Pick Me 1. I make an awesome cup of coffee 2. I don’t hog the blankets 3. I keep coconut, black sesame snacks in the freezer 4. My mother says I’m very beautiful when I cry 5. I’m learning to make a solid fire 6. I still listen to Joni and Neil 7. Cowboy boots are never the wrong choice 8. Lately I am drawn to difficult conversations 9. I carry my Grandmother’s kerchief 10. My Father left me a pair of his old reading glasses 11. My Mother and I threw two shivas...
by Laurie Wagner | Dec 16, 2013 | Blog
The truth about being a writing teacher is that everything you teach to others is often a lesson that you have to keep learning for yourself, over and over. So it will come as no surprise when I tell you that it truly is a challenge for me to sit my fanny down and write. And which is why I find myself so hungry as I begin this blog post. Not just hungry for good words, but hungry for sweet things, salty things, things with caffeine. I’m also suddenly very interested in the laundry, determined to make my bed, sweep the back deck, tidy up the branches felled by the windstorm last week. I’m certain it’s the perfect time to make the matzo ball soup I promised Zoe for dinner tonight. And while I’m at it, I better get a move on those Christmas gifts even though the great godly holiday is over a week away! In fact, I would be happy to do practically anything other than sit down to write. In my 20’s, when I was just starting out as a journalist for the East Bay Express in Berkeley, I found that if I had a glass of wine, no, two glasses of wine, writing came easy. Not only that, I was funny! Inspired! Smart! The words flew through me and out onto the page like magic. Then, as I got more assignments, I realized that I couldn’t catch a buzz every time I sat down to write, not if I wanted to make a life of this. So I had to learn to write sober and...
by Laurie Wagner | Aug 28, 2013 | Blog
“Why do you work so hard?” my friend Deb asked me the other day. “You seem like you’re in such a hurry to get somewhere.” “I think I’m trying to get to a sense of rest,” I said. “Some place on the other side of all this hard work where I’ll feel calm.” “But you never get there, right?” says Deb with a sinister smile. “Um, no. There’s just more work.” Damn that Deb. She’s such a smarty pants. Welcome to my magical to-do list that mysteriously grows longer the more tasks I cross out. On the surface I’m a mass of kick back, unruly curls, but on the inside I’m a 7-armed goddess monster who squeezes more out of each day than is sanely possible. A woman who means to take care of her house, her kids, sell her classes, create new products, teach her classes, get to the gym, return emails, phone calls and about 1000 other things that I’m not even going to mention. It’s nutty, and I’m sorry if you feel sick just reading this. I’m even sorrier if you know this world all too well. On top of it, if you’re like me, you’ll cop to a deep need to make everything you do perfect, bullet proof, exceptional. And while it’s not bad to want to create and deliver good things, the anxiety that accompanies this need for perfection is killing me. So this summer I promised myself that I was going to take a break and relax. As fate would have it a juicy writing project came my way and my “free time” evaporated…poof!...
by Laurie Wagner | Aug 5, 2013 | Blog
The thing about being someone who promotes truth telling – on the page and off – is that when you’re not walking your talk you know it immediately and it’s hard not to feel like a big ol’ liar. Of course I’m being a little hard on myself; I’m human, I make choices, and the bottom line is that I don’t always tell the truth about how I feel or what I think. That’s why I teach it – because it is hard for me – and so I practice it. A few weeks ago I was invited to the monthly salon my friend Megan holds in her home, and to which she invites artists and creatives to speak about their work to a group of her friends. “Laurie Wagner is the most honest person I’ve ever met,” Megan said with a big smile, as she introduced me to her friends. My eyes went big. I gulped. It felt like a challenge. If she’d said, “Laurie Wagner is the strongest woman on earth,” I’d have to lift something really heavy. Being the most honest person would mean I’d have to tell the truth – and the truth was – that was the last thing I wanted to do. I’d been feeling crappy for months. The reality of life without my husband of 22-years had begun sinking in. The first few months were pure candy – like being a teenager when your parent’s leave for the weekend and you can do whatever you want. I went on dates, turned our bedroom into my bedroom, I didn’t have to haggle with...
by Laurie Wagner | Jun 2, 2013 | Blog
The note your ten-year-old writes you because she heard you crying in the bathtub. “Mommy, we love you very much. Who wouldn’t?” The way she comes in while you’re laying there in three inches of hot water; depleted, exhausted, alone, and how she tacks her little note onto the tile across from where you lay so you can see it. “Mommy, we love you very much. Who wouldn’t?” The way your skin feels right after the bath; smooth and velvety and warm. The peace of being alone in the house because your husband has taken the children out for a bike ride, and how you sit on the porch with your summer skirt on and light up that cigarette. How glad you are that you saved this little bit of tobacco for a moment like this. The big, tall, magnificent trees in your yard and the way they move in the wind. The sound of the wind. The peace of being alone; everything is going to be alright, you tell yourself. You’re going to be alright. Wondering if you could fall in love with your husband again. The possibility that the love you seek is right here, at home, with him. The quiet beauty of your ramshackle home at the end of the road, a home with no one in it except you and the dog. The way you leave the front door open for the wind. How you need the wind to keep you moving, especially now. How after the cry, and the bath, and your late afternoon glass of wine, you feel capable again. Strong. Ready. Right....
