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 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 | Jul 14, 2013 | Blog
“So how many different fetal positions have you discovered?” my friend Jane asks as we set out for our evening walk. She’s smiling, but that’s because the sad ass year when she separated from her husband was over a decade ago. Now she can laugh. The thing about having a serious discussion when walking 4 mph – as my friends and I do – is that if you start crying you’ll end up wheezing. Trust me, I’ve done it; it’s hard to cry and walk. Last night I just got a little lumpy in the throat – a little choked up. I remember Jane’s divorce – sort of. I remember thinking she was brave. I remember how cool her new apartment was – how gathering around the coffee table with our friends felt like being in a cool, all-girl’s clubhouse. No boys allowed! I remember seeing Jane rockin’ it in her short kilt and sexy engineer boots sometime later that spring. I don’t remember seeing her in the fetal position, but apparently she was doing a lot more of that than I knew. My friend Jeremy recently told me that when his marriage ended and he left his wife and family – when the distracting hubbub of family life – all that colorful noise that crowds your attention and takes up space for so many years; running a house, working, shopping, feeding, and tending to other people – when that was gone, he could make out a much more clear shot of death. Of course it had been there all along, but he’d been too distracted, too busy to...
by Laurie Wagner | Jun 11, 2013 | Blog
What if I told you that it took me ten years to understand what I was teaching? It looked like I was teaching people how to write, but what I was actually doing, I realized late in the game, was teaching writers how to peel away the layers of their story and dig for something more true, more authentic and just plain honest. And while all that digging and examining is good for writing, it’s also excellent for living. When you chip away at the façade of your story, and you lay down one true word, and then the next true word you will eventually become stripped down and naked to yourself. And when you see yourself like that, there’s no turning back. You may, as many of my students have done, begin the process of changing your life. I’m a process person. I’m all about getting words onto a page; messy, ugly, imperfect, glorious words. And to do that you need to become comfortable with being uncomfortable. For me, it’s not about what I’m writing or whether I like what I’m writing that’s important. That the pen inks like a river across the page, that I have the courage not to know what the next word is, or the word after that…that I keep going anyway. That’s the spirit, that’s what makes a sound turn into a song. I might only be able to hear bits at first – the merest sound of a refrain – but I’ll swirl it around in my mouth, taste it, roll it on my tongue and Wa La, I start singing. That’s...
by Laurie Wagner | May 27, 2013 | Blog
My adorable Chinese medical doctor, Scott Blossom, tells me that the lungs are connected to grief – which explains my love affair with cigarettes this past week. I wasn’t going to tell him I was smoking, and planned on not having a smoke until after our 5pm appointment was over so he wouldn’t smell it on me. That was some serious nail biting for someone who had lately been having her first cigarette before the milkman arrived. I know. It’s been a rough little spell. Between the overnight departure of the sexy cowboy, which left me in a crumbled little huddle, and an avalanche of deadlines which appeared out of nowhere – I found myself overwhelmed, distracted, incapable and exhausted. Cigarettes and their delicious nicotine rush were more rewarding than a hot bath, a glass of wine, even a good cry. I think it was the way Scott lifted up my limp little wrist to feel my pulse, the way his forgiving green eyes bore down on me – I couldn’t help myself and I blurted, “I’ve been smoking!” Then I burst into tears. At least Scott would know the truth about me and wouldn’t confuse me with those darling yoga girls who traipse through his office with their starry I’M CHANNELING BLISS eyes. I can be me; messy, goodhearted, clunky and sorely imperfect. Besides, I’m a terrible liar. “I can feel it in your pulses,” he smiled. “Your lungs are like…” and then he made this horrible sound like he was a small rat drowning in sewer sludge. Three cheers for me for telling him the truth. “It’s...
