by Laurie Wagner | Oct 5, 2014 | Blog
This is one of my favorite blog posts from last year and the impetus for Opening The Creative Channel, my weekend workshop with Andrea Scher of Superhero Life. Last year David Bowie put out a new record, which is a big deal in the music industry. The man is 67-years-old, a legend, a huge rock star. I’d heard an interview with a member of his band a few days before the record launched, and the interviewer asked, “What earlier record is this new one like?” I found myself hoping he’d say The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust or Hunky Dory – two of my favorite Bowie records from the 70’s. But this band member only said that it was the best record Bowie had ever made. So when the album came out on iTunes, I checked it out, hoping to hear songs that would take me back to 1976 and tanning by the pool in Palm Springs with my friend Marcie. Those were some days. I was 16 years old, had long brown hair, and wore bikinis. Boys liked me and I loved music, a doorway into a rich place full of feelings that I couldn’t yet articulate, but which I knew promised me access to a deeper part of myself. But when I listened to this new album, I didn’t hear anything resembling the Bowie I had loved. Instead I heard the crooning stuff he’s been putting out in the last few years – not my cup of tea. Here’s the thing: I don’t know what Bowie was thinking when he put out the...
by Laurie Wagner | Sep 21, 2014 | Blog
I may have time to get to the Girl Scout store to get the new troupe numbers and Girl Scout USA insignia. I wonder if those jeans are worth patching? Is this middle aged spread or have I been eating too many nuts? Nuts are good, right? 229 days till summer. Still time to work toward that bikini My feet don’t hurt that much. You know, my shoulder feels exactly like it did during the racquetball days. Damn mosquitoes. I don’t need any more new clothes. I should make some soup this week. I loved Gina’s white t.shirt and long flowered jacket. She is so beautiful and neurotic. I felt pretty at the party but no one mentioned it. Prettier than I’d felt in a long time. Are they just used to my prettiness or am I not pretty at all? Do I have any underwear that he hasn’t seen? We should be getting that call from the basketball coaches soon. I hope practice isn’t on girl scouts night. Get to the bookstore. If I don’t invite more than two people over at a time we can all drink wine out of wine glasses. I hope they take those boots back. Mosquitoes. Will they retreat as it gets colder? What if I run out of money? Chocolate bacon, who would have thunk it? I can feel my hips. My breasts are like puddles. Exactly like my mothers. I think I said goodnight to him. One day...
by Laurie Wagner | Sep 9, 2014 | Blog
Writing about your real life is a tricky dance. Your life is your petri dish. You examine the things that happen, you make notes, you pay attention to small details and you consider whether you can unpack them to reveal something larger, something like a story. Moments become metaphors, lessons, things you want to understand better and share. If you’re good at it, you’re able to take these small moments of your life and crack them open to reveal the creamy center, the universal kung foo, the place where my story becomes your story, becomes a blessing or a teaching for us all. I believe we’re all made of the same stuff. We have different experiences and we have our opinions and different ways we stand in our stories, but we all understand what it is to long for something – love or connection. We all know what it feels like to feel small and overlooked, unseen and unimportant. We know exhaustion and defeat. We all know envy and what it is to have dirty thoughts about people we love. We know joy too – the feeling of riding a lucky wave – or just being suddenly happy for no reason except that the song on the radio has just changed your world. And that’s where telling true stories and using authentic, down to the studs language in your writing is really helpful. When you lay it on the line and don’t try to hide or be too clever, people can connect with you, and then they can connect with themselves. And that’s part of the...
by Laurie Wagner | Aug 25, 2014 | Blog
Because when our children grow up we can no longer strap them into car seats, which means they’re free to roam the earth as they please, and which sometimes means they down 5 shots of vodka with their new college roommates even though they promised themselves that they’d take it slow on account of the altitude and all. We tell stories because we struggle to find the words when the apple of our eye calls the next morning, voice craggy and full of rocks to let you know that no, she will not be helping you in your effort to find furniture for her room today because “Mama I’m very sorry but if I get up I’m going to throw up.” We tell stories because we want to come down hard, we want to get all “You need to learn how to take care of yourself…bla bla bla, ” except that just as those words are charging out of your mouth you remember who you were when you were a college student in this very town 35 years ago. The night you lay in your freshman bed so high you were certain the aliens were coming for you, how you closed your eyes and lay your arms by your side so you’d be ready to beam up in one piece. The day you ate too many mushrooms and had to have your best friend Lisa walk the streets of Boulder with you for hours, reminding you what was good about your life because you had forgotten. The Friday afternoon beer party where...
by Laurie Wagner | Jul 14, 2014 | Blog
And so, after a couple of fairly unproductive days of writing – or – not writing – as the case was – days where I’d meant well, had made a little nest on the couch, surrounding myself with not only a pile of bills, but a list of writing assignments and essays I’d started, but which were going nowhere. After all that, I found myself jogging in my town with a little group of work out buddies from my gym. Most of us aren’t real runners, we just take orders from this horribly fit man named Nate who has no fat on his body, and who we pay to push us around. Yesterday he told us to run five times around a hot, city block, lift heavy weights – sometimes running with those weights – do planks, crunches and an assortment of other horrible things – all of it culminating in something called a burpy, where you throw yourself onto the ground, do a push up and then jump – no – leap into the air and clap your hands like you’re simply delighted, when in fact, you really just want to throw up. We did this like 25 times. So there I was running and feeling sorry for myself because I’m certain I’m not built to run, and my middle aged legs feel heavy, and I’m huffing and puffing and tears are leaking out of my eyes, and I’m hoping that all this hard work will pay off so I can fit into these dresses which I want to wear for these upcoming weddings. And then...
