Thursday, June 26, 2008

Soft Batch Chocolate Chip Cookies

So, last week I started my memoir writing class, and oh my god, am I so glad I'm doing this! There are maybe 12 of us, and we are all ladies. I don't know why, maybe women are more introspective or something. But it's actually really nice. It's sort of inadvertently a women's therapy group. A lot of these women have some crazy, traumatic, touching stories to share, and I feel so privileged to get to hear them. Also, it's an excellent reminder that as humans we all share the exact same insecurities and shortcomings -- we all have troubled relationships with someone. And those troubled relationships are usually with our family members.

Anyway, last night was the second class, and I think one of my favorite parts may be the short in-class writing assignments we're given. I like these because it forces me put some stuff down right on the spot and not think about it too much. Last night's assignment was to write about a place that has meaning for us. Here's what I wrote:

Grandpa has Soft Batch chocolate chip cookies at his house. He puts them in different drawers every time to try and hide them from me, but I always find them. I don't like to chew them -- I like to hold them on my tongue and squish them to the roof of my mouth until they separate into individual grains of sugar.

I like to lie on my belly in the green shag carpet on the living room floor and hunt for change that's fallen out of his pockets. Then I like to crawl like a cat over to the window and part the dusty vertical blinds to look at the backyard. I don't usually like going out there, though, because I know there are spiders and ants, and my ankles begin to itch when I think about it. I like to imagine that there are jungle animals crouching or slithering or climbing through the low-hanging tree branches, the overgrown bushes and the weeds.

Later, I like to sit on the fat vinyl chair at the kitchen table, the one that spins the fastest. I spin one direction until the cabinets and the dingy yellow linoleum and the poker chips on the table are all a blur. Then I stop myself with a jerk and spin the other way. When I feel the Soft Batch cookies start to come back, I peel my sweaty legs off the chair with a loud thhhhhhhhp.

1 comment:

FirstPersonArts said...

Very cool!

Your blog came up on my morning google alert for folks engaged in memoir writing, and I thought you might be interested in First Person Arts’ Impressions competition. Especially since you're fresh from this class. It includes a call for short documentary films (under 5 minutes) and documentary photo essays (5 images or fewer), but the memoir competition calls for 1500 words. Entries are due August 15th. I’ve attached an image of our flyer, and I’ve cut-and-pasted information about the broader competition below. Check out the competition website here: http://impressions.firstpersonarts.org and find out more about First Person Arts a Philly non-profit dedicated to memoir and documentary art at http://www.firstpersonarts.org

We’ve got some excellent judges, and the winning entries will get some very nice exposure, not to mention a little cash. It would be great if you could post this on your blog and/or pass it around to your friends or writers groups. If you send me a note, I'll happily forward you a flyer. Please let me know if you have any questions. Thanks,

Andrew