THE END OF THE WORLD

The end of the world is here.  I know you don't think so but I just saw it on my news feed: the NRA calls for an armed officer in every school.  In every school?  Yes, every single elementary, middle, high school in this country should have an armed officer to prevent more shootings.  

Or, perhaps, what will happen is that the armed officer will engage in a gun shootout with the next killer right there in the hallway or the playground and boom! - children and grown-ups will be caught in the middle of it.  

I call that an apocalypse, don't you?

Let's all of us carry a gun in our purse or pocket.  Yeah!  let's.  It won't take long before we're all gone from this planet.  Or at least from this country.

Come to San Miguel this February!

Concurrent Workshop, Session #1: Thursday, February 14  9:00 – 10:30 AM

CRAFTING STORIES FROM REAL LIFE: Literary Nonfiction

Literary or creative nonfiction is the fastest growing literary genre.   The telling of facts in a creative manner entertains readers, surprises them, and teaches them something about real life in the process.

Creative nonfiction walks a fine line between fiction and truth with style and confidence.  Create stories that read like fiction but are based on real life.

In this workshop you will learn how to write a gripping opening sentence, how to use dialogue and bring characters alive, how to incorporate research to add depth to your writing, and the essential techniques of successful and interesting creative nonfiction writing.

We will also look at examples of creative nonfiction from an array of authors and study them to learn about voice, style, and structure as we produce our own essays by the end of the session.

Beatriz Badikian-Gartler’s publications includeMapmaker Revisited: New and Selected Poems; Old Gloves: A 20^th Century Saga; travel essays in The New York Times, The Winfield Post, New Directions in Travel Writing, and others. She has also published short stories, film reviews, poems, and personal memoir essays in journals and anthologies in the United States and abroad.

Badikian-Gartler holds a Ph.D. in English from the University of Illinois at Chicago and has been teaching for the last 25 years at various institutions of higher learning, such as, Northwestern University, Loyola University, Roosevelt University, Columbia College, University of Wisconsin, Newberry Library, and others.

Her writing has won several awards, including a nomination for a Pushcart Prize in 1993, a Time Inc. fellowship, and grants from the Illinois Arts Council and the Chicago Office of Fine Arts.  She is a popular performer in the Chicago area and lectures often on women’s issues, art, and literature.

In 2000 Badikian-Gartler was selected as one of the “One-Hundred Women Who Make a Difference in Chicago” by Today’s Woman magazine.  She is also an Illinois Humanities Council Road Scholar.

YOU HEAR CHURCH BELLS: flash fiction

    You're surprised to hear church bells in the distance. You thought the church had been demolished a long time ago. In a strange way, the bells are comforting. Unusual for an atheist. Must be the memories of church bells from childhood. The neighborhood. The friends. Suddenly the memories flood you and you have to sit down for a moment, on a stoop.

    The church bells take you back to the old days when everyone knew everyone, doors were never locked, you and your best friend Ralph were inseparable. I wonder what happened to him you say out loud. Ralph was great. Had no fears. You liked to follow him around, imitate him. Your mother used to warn you about that but you never paid attention to her. You were spoiled, her favorite son. Her only son in a family of girls. Five girls...geez...you were the golden boy.

    You're listening to the bells when the door behind you opens. Excuse me someone says. I'm sorry you reply and get up. I'm sorry. I felt faint for a moment you explain to the lady looking at you askance. You start to walk again, down the block to the 711 to buy cigarettes and a six pack.

    You walk out of the 711 with the six pack under your arm and a cigarette between your lips. Stopping to light it you realize the church bells have stopped tolling. You inhale deeply and blow the smoke out of your nose, cross the street, smile. You're going home to drink and forget the neighborhood, Ralph, your mother.

    That's what grown men do. They drink. They smoke. They forget. They forget until they're forgotten.

PRACTICE MAKES PERFECT #2

This morning I corroborated the axiom that it takes daily practice to become at least proficient in some occupation or vocation.  

After two weeks off tennis I returned to play with the three women I play two or three times a week.  It was dreadful.  I couldn't hit the ball to save my life.  And when I did return it, the ball went anywhere but...short shots, long shots, into the net, it was sad.  I lost my mojo I told my tennis partners.  Have you seen it?

It didn't help matters that right next to our court the rolly-polly guy playing with three women kept screeching and shouting.  He's there every Thursday, smack dab next to us.  He yells instructions at his teammates, celebrates loudly when he gets a point, and generally makes a nuisance of himself.  

But - after running and hitting and missing for 50 minutes my game took off.  I had some great shots 5 minutes before the end of the game.  I found my mojo guys I told my friends.  Practice does help.  Now, if only I could improve all other aspects of my life, I'd be set.

WANTS AND NEEDS

We sometimes imagine we want what we don't really want.  The friend who returns to the man who mistreats her.  Spending money we don't have on something for the pleasure of the purchase.  I imagine I want peace and quiet, solitude, but when I have it I'm eager to go out or call a friend or watch tv.  Because solitude is a lot of work.  It entails looking inward, judging my needs and wants, reviewing past actions.  Solitude requires strength of character.  Like traveling alone requires inner fortitude.  Solitude is what I think I want until I get it.  Beware what you wish the Chinese proverb reminds us, you may get it.  And then you or I realize I don't really want it.  Not now.  Perhaps later.  Perhaps never.

PET PEEVES #2

*    "Closure" - who came up with that crap?  Every time someone is killed the family needs closure.  Let's find who did it.  Let's punish him or her.  We need closure.  How in the freaking world does that provide closure?  And what the heck is closure?  You can't forget what happened.  You might put it away in a corner of your mind but the absence is still there.  Will always be there. 

*    Waiters who keep refilling my coffee cup after I have only taken one or two sips - Let me finish it first before you screw up my carefully balanced proportion of milk and sugar.  Stay away until I ask you for more.

*    Busboys who want to clear away my plates before I am finished eating - why do restaurant managers force the busboys to remove and clean tables as soon as possible?  I'm not done yet.  Let me finish!

What are your pet peeves?  Tell me.

THE WINTER GARDEN

The morning appeared gray and cold.  Not a good day to stay at home alone.  The Winter Garden at the Harold Washington Public Library on the other hand was luminous.  Blue walls, green plants, a domed skylight: the sun filtered through around 11 a.m. while I sat at a table reading and writing.  The silence was broken occasionally by a tourist taking photos or a staff member click-clacking her high heels on the marble floors.  If you haven't been there, don't miss it.  

I read a couple of travel essays to prepare for the class on Thursday, jotted down notes for future research, and skimmed through The Writer's Chronicle.  I breathed deeply in an effort to quiet down my insides, to be in sync with the outside: peaceful surroundings, light and airy.  

The cold temperatures and grey skies of Chicago in Winter have become more and more unbearable as the years go on.  One would think that I'd be used to them by now.  But no!  I need sun and warmth.  And with the sadness brought on by recent events, these ugly days are intolerable.  I must find a source of contentment soon or...I'll have to go to Florida for the Winter.  Or Argentina. 

Libraries are one of my most favorite places to spend time.  I can get lost between the stacks, reading book spines sideways, browsing, reading.  Sometimes I go to the DePaul University library near my house to borrow books or sit and read in one of the comfortable arm chairs scattered around the 4th floor.  I've even been known to take a nap in the quiet space.  

This morning I looked for a book I want to read: Wanderlust: A Social History of Travel.  I was sure it would be in the library.  I was looking forward to taking it to the Winter Garden but no such luck.  The book seems to be available only In digital format.  What's that about?!  I certainly hope that libraries and print books don't go out of style any time soon.  What will I do on cold, grey days in Chicago?