Friday Find: Twitter Chats for Writers

Remember when I told you that I was finally lured into opening a Twitter account because I wanted to participate in the Jewish Book Council’s Twitter book club? It turns out that there are SO MANY similar Twitter chats occurring on a regular basis. It’s a veritable virtual smorgasbord!

Thanks to There Are No Rules, I’ve recently discovered “Inkygirl”‘s excellent list of “Twitter Chats for Writers,” and someday–perhaps even this weekend–I’ll actually be able to visit a handful of them! Check them out, and please tell us if any of your favorites are listed there (or if there are others we should know about).

Have a wonderful weekend. See you back here on Monday!

An Interview with Memoirist Melissa Hart

Gringa: A Contradictory Girlhood: An Interview with Melissa Hart

Interview by Erika Dreifus

Melissa Hart is the author, most recently, of the memoir Gringa: A Contradictory Girlhood (Seal, 2009). She teaches journalism at the University of Oregon and memoir writing for U.C. Berkeley’s online extension program. Her essays have appeared in The Washington Post, The Los Angeles Times, The Advocate, High Country News, Orion, The Chronicle of Higher Education, and Writer’s Digest. She lives in Oregon with her husband, their young daughter, and too many cats and dogs.

Melissa is ALSO, like yours truly, a contributing editor for The Writer magazine. (I always enjoy her “Literary Spotlight” columns profiling individual literary journals.) I am thrilled to present this Q&A with Melissa here.

Please welcome Melissa Hart.

Erika Dreifus (ED): Melissa, Gringa is your second memoir. Can you please describe the connections between the two books, as well as what motivated you to write Gringa specifically?

Melissa Hart (MH): I wrote my first memoir, The Assault of Laughter (Windstorm, 2005) as my Master of Fine Arts thesis at Goddard College. Inspired by teachers Jacqueline Woodson and Mariana Romo-Carmona, I wanted to tell the story of the first year in my life after my mother came out as a lesbian and lost custody of me and my two younger siblings. This was 1979; throughout the 1970s and early 1980s, women who came out routinely lost custody of their children to homophobic court systems. I thought it was critical that my story, as representative of many, come to light.

But . . . I was a young writer, and I felt that I could tell the story more skillfully a decade later. I wanted to explore the idea of growing up Anglo, heterosexual, and seemingly devoid of identity in multicultural Los Angeles with a lesbian mom, a brother with Down syndrome, and a deep desire to be a Latina. I expanded the year in Assault to include all the years of my adolescence, from the day my mother left my father to my post-college graduation trip with her to Spain. I’m indebted to Seal’s senior editor Brooke Warner for helping me to shape the memoir as a coming-of-age story and a history of my mother’s and my relationship, which prevailed in spite of homophobia on the part of both the legal system and my father.

ED: Both of your memoirs reveal a great deal about your family members. How have they reacted to your writing about and publishing your collective stories? How have their reactions affected your writing processes?

MH: My father and I have been estranged for almost two decades. My stepmother and I e-mail occasionally, and she felt that Assault, in particular, gave her insight into our troubled relationship. My mother is a writer, as well, and she’s incredibly supportive of my work. She accompanied me on part of the book tour for Gringa. It’s worth noting that she asked me not to write about a few elements of our story, and I honored that. My sister is also deeply supportive; she’s told all her friends about the book and helped to organize a reading/signing event in her hometown. My brother has Down syndrome, and he doesn’t read, but he does enjoy telling and retelling stories about how my sister and I used to dress him up like a girl.

ED: Food plays an important part in Gringa, and each chapter ends with an unconventionally-presented “recipe.” How did the idea to include these recipes develop?

MH: I fell in love with recipes in the context of prose stories when I discovered Laura Esquivel’s Like Water for Chocolate. I loved how her recipes reflected the characters’ motivations and relationships. Then I came across Ruth Reichl’s books, and then Diana Abu-Jaber’s marvelous The Language of Baklava. Both authors incorporate recipes into their memoir, and I had these wonderful goofy recipes such as Frito Boats and my mother’s Tortilla Flats which were so important to me as a child. I took so much comfort in food as an adolescent–still do, in fact–and I wanted to offer up some of these recipes to readers as one more way to illustrate key themes and plot points in the book. Food also became a symbol of culture, or lack thereof, when I was an adolescent. I adored my boyfriend’s mother’s authentic Mexican dishes, for example, and being able to make a savory salsa or a dozen tamales became my benchmark of acceptance into his culture.

ED: What was the biggest challenge you faced in writing Gringa?

MH: The biggest challenge I faced in writing Gringa was not knowing quite what the book wanted to be. Initially, it looked like a series of linked essays that were all over the place in content and theme. My agent at the time, Michelle Andelman, reined me in and noted with great insight that the memoir format might work better as a method of telling the story. In Gringa‘s next incarnation, I included several chapters between “O Christmas Tree” and “Citizens of the World”–chapters which explored further my problematic relationship with my boyfriend–but my editor felt that they disrupted the coming-of-age trajectory of the story. I cut five chapters and wrote five new ones in a two-month period. I’m a really slow writer, so getting these out and polished on a tight deadline was challenging.

Creating the book trailer for Gringa was also extremely challenging. Last summer, a colleague at the journalism school taught me FinalCut Pro and I became writer, director, food stylist, chef, actress and cat wrangler for this rather goofy trailer.

ED: How did Gringa find its home with Seal Press?

MH: Michelle Andelman shopped the book around to a few publishers, and we felt a particular affinity for Seal and for Brooke, in particular. Seal Press publishes exciting books on unexpected topics related to women, and Brooke enjoyed the humorous social commentary that informs so much of the book. I’m so happy to have worked with Seal; this is a dynamic publishing house with a professional and devoted staff.

ED: What else would you like to tell us?

MH: I teach a memoir writing course for U.C. Berkeley’s online extension program which is open to all. I post my upcoming workshops pretty regularly on both my website and my Facebook fan page. I love teaching and working with other writers; I come away inspired and excited to sit down at my computer.

Thank you so much, Melissa!

A version of this interview appeared in the March 2010 issue of The Practicing Writer.

Quotation of the Week: Marilynne Robinson

Home borrows characters from Gilead but centers on Ames’s friend Reverend Robert Boughton and his troubled son Jack. Robinson returned to the same territory as Gilead because, she said, ‘after I write a novel or a story, I miss the characters–I feel sort of bereaved.’” (emphasis added)

Source: Marilynne Robinson, interviewed by Sarah Fay, The Paris Review, fall 2008.

I don’t have multiple novels to my credit, but I have to admit that I, too, have enjoyed reviving characters from one story to appear in another.

What about you?

Friday Find: "How to Create a Simple Writer Blog"

For those of you who have not yet created a blog, today’s your lucky day! Peta Jinnath Andersen provides some truly excellent tips on getting one started. I wish I’d seen a post like this before I started mine!

Which raises a question I’ve considered asking here before: Have any of you transferred a blog from Blogger to WordPress, and if so, what advice do you have?

Thanks, and enjoy the weekend. See you back here on Monday. (Can’t believe it will be March!)

Book Reviewing is NOT the Same as Sitting on the Couch Watching Bad TV

Earlier this week, Jason Boog reported on Arianna Huffington’s keynote speech at the “Tools of Change” conference. As I read the summary, I thought: Hey, Arianna! I’m with you! Especially when I read: “Huffington also explored the idea behind The Huffington Post books section, rejecting ‘this magical pub date’– the traditional time-period for scheduling book reviews and running book tours. ‘Forget about it–the idea that you have three weeks between pub date and oblivion. It doesn’t have to be like that,’ she said, earning a smattering of applause.” (A smattering of applause? I should think she would have received a standing ovation, at least from the writers and publishing professionals in the room.)

Anyway, as I say, I was with her–until I read this:

“Finally, she addressed the perennial criticism that many writers on the site don’t get paid. ‘Self expression is the new entertainment,’ she explained. ‘We never used to question why people sit on the couch for seven hours a day watching bad TV. Nobody ever asked, ‘Why are they doing that for free?’ We need to celebrate that moment rather than question it.'”

(Spoken like someone who might have both a huge divorce settlement AND a slew of advertisers and may not exactly depend on income generated by her own writing to pay her bills.)

Now, it may surprise some of you to learn that I’m just as capable of sitting on the couch for seven hours (when I have seven hours to spare) watching bad TV as the next person. (While I’m in confession mode, I may as well tell you that last weekend my sister and I went to see Kathy Griffin perform here New York. She–Kathy Griffin– was hilarious. There. By the way, if you don’t watch television, don’t bother going to see Kathy Griffin. Whenever she’s not imitating her mother, she’s talking about various reality shows and “characters. Or Anderson Cooper. Or Law and Order: Special Victims Unit.)

But I digress.

When I write, the “entertainment” factor differs significantly from what results when I stare at my TV. Any “entertainment” that comes from reviewing, for instance, is pure pleasure from the work, satisfaction from reading a book I (hopefully) want to tell others about (for that matter, reading it at least twice), thinking about that book, rechecking everything from the list price to the page count, and writing and crafting a text that will make sense and perhaps even resonate with readers. It’s work. It may be absorbing, self-expressive, and even entertaining work. But even if we choose not to be paid for it–as we might when writing for a particular cause/organization–it’s still work.

It’s not sitting on a couch watching bad TV.