Great, I've got two followers so far. I'm at Lucid Stage today doing a little administrative work. It was a hectic day. First our boiler at our house was tuned up, then the hot water knob came off the shower producing a steady stream of hot water that overflowed the tub and flooded the floor of our bathroom.
So- I'm not going to be too creative today on this blog.
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Good heavens- Starting this blog was not easy..
I made a young woman cry today. No, I wasn't being mean to her. I read her a short story that I had just written. She was actually touched by it and I was surprised.
I read the same story at the Writer's Circle at the Dobra Tea Room in Portland. It is located above Videoport on Middle Street in space previously occupied by Casablanca Comics, a book store and a gelatto shop.
This was organized by Deena Weinstein who is a member of a story telling group known as Moose.
It was a small group, but they were quite responsive.I've never had the opportunity to read any fiction that I have written to a group such as this. For the past ten years I've been working at a part time job to supplement my income from being an adjunct lecturer at the University of Southern Maine.
The job I had was calling people up on the phone and trying to get them to do a marketing survey. A lot of the time they would hang up on me. Occasionally they would curse at me and even when I did manage to convince someone with time on their hands to let me ask them questions they would do so in such a begrudging way that it soured the experience. There were those rare moments when I would connect with someone who really cared about he issues I was asking questions about like health care. Sometimes a person on the other end of the line would break down and cry because they faced so many insurmountable problems trying to access decent health care in the richest country in the world.
But a few weeks ago I asked to take an extended leave from the place. My right shoulder, elbow and wrist hurt from the repetitive dialing and trying to type at a very fast pace what the respondants would say verbatim.
There were many nights when I would get out of work at 9 p.m. and pass by the now defunct North Star Cafe and see poets and writers reading their works to a packed room. I was so frustrated. I wanted to be part of that reading. Now after ten years I finally got the chance to read a short story that I wrote in public.
Now I have to figure out a way to get people to read the stuff I post on this blog.
I made a young woman cry today. No, I wasn't being mean to her. I read her a short story that I had just written. She was actually touched by it and I was surprised.
I read the same story at the Writer's Circle at the Dobra Tea Room in Portland. It is located above Videoport on Middle Street in space previously occupied by Casablanca Comics, a book store and a gelatto shop.
This was organized by Deena Weinstein who is a member of a story telling group known as Moose.
It was a small group, but they were quite responsive.I've never had the opportunity to read any fiction that I have written to a group such as this. For the past ten years I've been working at a part time job to supplement my income from being an adjunct lecturer at the University of Southern Maine.
The job I had was calling people up on the phone and trying to get them to do a marketing survey. A lot of the time they would hang up on me. Occasionally they would curse at me and even when I did manage to convince someone with time on their hands to let me ask them questions they would do so in such a begrudging way that it soured the experience. There were those rare moments when I would connect with someone who really cared about he issues I was asking questions about like health care. Sometimes a person on the other end of the line would break down and cry because they faced so many insurmountable problems trying to access decent health care in the richest country in the world.
But a few weeks ago I asked to take an extended leave from the place. My right shoulder, elbow and wrist hurt from the repetitive dialing and trying to type at a very fast pace what the respondants would say verbatim.
There were many nights when I would get out of work at 9 p.m. and pass by the now defunct North Star Cafe and see poets and writers reading their works to a packed room. I was so frustrated. I wanted to be part of that reading. Now after ten years I finally got the chance to read a short story that I wrote in public.
Now I have to figure out a way to get people to read the stuff I post on this blog.
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