Seams Like a Story

June 25, 2023June 25, 2023

Critique Groups: Why Writers Need One

You’ll get by with a little help from your friends.

A bag containing all the things I need for my critique group meeting

My bag is packed. I’m ready to go. Sorry, John, I’m not leaving on a jet plane. I’m meeting my critique group at the coffee shop soon.

In my writer’s bag I carry folders of notes for my critique group members, my lastest work to submit, and extra copy of my book (you never know who might want one…) a notebook, and my favorite black sharpie pen. I also pack a sharp #2 pencil with a good eraser. Sometimes, I change my mind about a critique.

Oh Babe, I need to go. But first, let me tell you why this meeting is important to me.

My Critique Group Makes Me a Better Writer

So, this is the obvious reason I need my critique group. There comes a point in my writing when I needed to give my work to another set of eyes. That line that I thought was so, so beautiful, turns out to be a cliche. It goes without saying, at the end of the day, I need to think outside the box and grab the bull by the horns… Did you realize I switched verb tenses in this paragraph? And where was I going with this part? See, I need my critique group even now. Group members provide fresh perspectives and offer ideas when I’m stuck.

Besides this, the give and take during critique sessions sharpens my writing skills. Looking closely at someone else’s work helps me to turn the same critical eye to my own writing.

My Critique Group Keeps Me Accountable

Our group has committed to meeting on a regular schedule and we make these gatherings a priority. We’ve established a deadline and agree to submit anything we want critiqued a week prior to each meeting. This motivates me to keep writing. My group also encourages me to “write it real” and they hold me accountable when I my writing strays from my true voice. http://seamslikeastory.com/write-it-real/

My Critique Group Provides Emotional Support

Sort of like a therapy dog, my group leads me in the right direction, calms me when I’m terrified, and picks me up when I’m feeling down. How does this work for a writer? Oh, let’s say you get your first one-star review on Amazon and think the world is ending or you thought you were on the right track, then discover you want to go in a whole different direction with your story and you have to throw out a month’s worth of work or you’ve submitted to many, many places only to learn it’s not the “right fit” and you are certain you are the worst writer in the world and…yeah. Our writer’s egos are fragile.

Where Can You Find These Amazing People?

So now you’re convienced that you do indeed need these people in your writing life. Where do you find them? For me, it started with a writer’s group that meets at our local library. I saw their meeting schedule posted on a flyer and joined in. From there, friendships and common interests developed and five of us formed a critique group. We’ve been meeting regularly for almost four years now. In addition, I partnered with a friend I’d known from my teaching days who is an accomplished free-lance writer. We meet now and then for lunch and exchange thoughts about our latest works-in-progress. Her insights are invaluable to me.

Here’s where I should mention that it takes time for a group or a partner team to establish the kind of trusting relationship that will survive intense, honest feedback. I’ve been lucky enough to have this, but it may take time to find the right group.

Also, keep in mind that groups evolve. Sadly, one of my group members is moving, but not too far. We will need to adapt, but we are committed to finding a way to keep writing and supporting eachother. When you open your writer’s soul to another, deep friendships develop.

If you are looking for a resource for establishing a critique group, check out Telling Tales and Sharing Secrets : Twenty-four Years of a Successful Critique Group co-authored by my friend Diana Kinared.

But now, gotta go. My group is waiting!

Threads of Thought

Do you meet with a critique group?

If so, what advice would you give to others?

Note:To maintain the integretiy of my site, all comments are approved before they appear. I value your comments and they are an important part of my blog community. Enter your coment in the “leave a reply” box below. Your coment will appear soon. I look forward to hearing your thoughts!

If you are looking for a fun, quick, summer read, pick up Out of the Crayon Box:Thoughts on Teaching, Retirement and Life now available at http://amazon.com/author/debravandeventer

June 11, 2023June 12, 2023

Pizza Amore

When in Italy…

Oh man. I was going through some photos of our trip to Italy and came across this. Have you every tried authentic Neapolitan pizza? Now this Seams Like a Story worth telling. Who knows? Maybe it will make an appearance in the travel memoir I’m working on. Come on, take a few moments and travel with me to Italy.

Ed and I found a little pizzaria in a small village not far from Naples. We descend ancient stone steps and duck through the arched doorway of the town’s pizzeria. The centuries-old building has been modernized but maintains its vintage style. Red and white checkered cloths and vases of fresh flowers adorn round tables where a few people are enjoying a late lunch. A young woman at the hostess stand is folding boxes for take-out orders. There is no signage on the door, but it makes no difference. Locals know where to come–the pizzeria has been here for generations. But even if you are new to the city, the aroma of freshly baked bread and rich tomato sauce coming from the wood stove would lead you here.

The hostess greets us and invites us into the kitchen. The space is tiny and is filled with organized clutter, perhaps like any diner kitchen. Yet unlike a typical diner, the centerpiece of this kitchen is a monumental wood-fired stove. The outside edges are charcoal-black from decades of wear. It’s iconic curved opening glows crimson, like a one-eyed dragon, or the gates of hell radiating waves of heat. A fan twirls in the window above the industrial sink and a stainless steel table is in the center of the room. Behind the table stands a small man with graying hair, a trim mustache and wire-rimmed glasses. He wears jeans, a white tee shirt and a clean white apron tied around his waist. A young woman is at his side.

“Ciao! Welcome to our pizzaria. My name is Sophia. My uncle Franco and I will be your guides today. This business has been handed down through our family for generations. It is our pizza, but also our passion that we will share with you today.”

Franco nods and smiles, content to let his niece do the talking. Because the space around the table and in the oven is limited, we work in pairs. It’s hard to wait our turn, but soon, it’s time for Ed and and I to make our pizza. Franco takes a ball of dough that has been rising in a covered container. His experienced hands move quickly, flattening and stretching the dough into a dinner-plate sized circle.

“Now for the moment you’ve been waiting for!” Sophia says.

On cue, Franco tosses the circle of dough high in the air, letting it spin and stretch, then catches it at exactly the right moment. We laugh and clap in amazement as he repeats the process with the next ball, then places the perfect circles of dough in front of us. Under his watchful eye, I ladle a generous amount of sauce onto the dough and use the back of the utensil to spread the liquid-tomatoey goodness almost to the edge.

“We make the sauce here. Local tomatoes, garlic, basil. Simple. Now we add some freshly made mozzarella.” She hands each of us a section of the creamy white cheese and instructs us to pinch off small bits to distribute around the sauce.

“And we bake.” Franco ceremoniously takes a large wooden paddle from a hook on the wall. In a series of smooth movements, he shoves the paddle under my tomato and mozzarella topped circle of dough and slides it off onto the glowing stone floor of the pizza oven. Immediately the crust puffs, and the mozzarella bubbles over the tomato sauce releasing a burst of aroma that lights up every appetite-inducing neuron in my brain. While the pizza bakes, Sophia explains that we are making Pizza Margherita, in the traditional Neapolitan style.

“ According to the legend, Pizza Margherita was invented in by a chef in the 1800s to honor Queen Margherita of Savoy and the unification of Italy. See the colors of the Italian flag? Red tomatoes, white mozzarella, and here is the green.”

She reaches for a vase of fresh basil. The pizzas bake quickly and Franco knows exactly the right moment to pull them out–when the crust is golden brown with a few bits of char from the intense heat and heavenly blobs of mozzarella have melted over the sauce. He slides each one onto an oversized dinner-plate that has obviously been made for exactly this purpose. It can barely hold the 12” pizza, more than enough to serve two people, but we each get our own.

I’m not one of those people who take pictures of their food-usually-and it sounds silly, but this pizza is beautiful. I pick up one of the wedges and take my first bite. I’m in love. Pizza love. The crust is perfect–crispy yet light and puffy–unlike anything that could be accomplished in a traditional oven. The combination of tomato, cheese and basil is heavenly. The cheese and sauce slide off and dribble down my hand. Extra napkins all around.

So here’s what you need to know. Forget what you thought was pizza–the double stuffed, extra cheese, sausage, pepperoni stuff that late night college runs are made of. If you are expecting that, you might be disappointed in this simple pie. Many Americans who come to Italy are. But if you approach this pizza with an open mind, you will experience pure Italy–simple, fresh, authentic. Amore

Now, who’s hungry?

Threads of thought?

What is a favorite food memory from your travels?

Are you an adventurous foodie when traveling? What’s the stangest thing you’ve tried?

What toppings would be on your pizza amore?

Debra VanDeventer is an educator, author, blogger, sewist and traveler. To read more check out:

Out of the Crayon Box: Thoughts on Teaching, Retirement, and Life

available on amazon http://amazon.com/author/debravandeventer

May 29, 2023May 29, 2023

Memorial Day

The Heart Remembers

The following is an adaptation of my story, “The Heart Remembers” originally published in “Monsoon Madness” (Oro Valley Writer’s Forum Anthology vol. 1)

When I was a child, I would help Mom and Grandma wrap empty one-pound coffee cans in foil, then fill them with bright pink and soft white Peonies from our back yard. On Memorial Day, We would take them to the cemetery and carefully place the bouquets on the gravesites of Grandpa and two of my mother’s siblings who had died in infancy. Through the years, the annual pilgrimage to the cementery faded like old Peony blossoms. I grew up, I moved away, I was too busy, I forgot.

Years later, after taking Mom home from a Memorial Day family gathering, I was helping put away groceries in her apartment in the assisted living complex. She was no longer driving, and was having more and more problems with memory.

“Debbie, can you take me to the cemetery? I want to put these flowers on my mom and dad’s grave.” She pointed to a potted plant she’s gotten as a door prize at a recent luncheon.

Her question took me by surprise. To be honest, in all of my efforts to entertain people over the holiday weekend I’d forgotten the memorial part. It was ironic that the one with memory issues was the one to remember this.

“Do you remember how to get there, Mom? I haven’t been since I was a kid.”

“Of course,” she said indignantly.

It soon became obvious that she didn’t. After several frustrating starts and stops, I resorted to using my phone’s GPS. When we finally reached Valley View, she lit up like a kid at Christmas.

“Oh look! This is so nice!” she exclaimed when she saw the American Flags flanking the road and placed on graves to honor men and women who have died in service to our country.

My heart sank as I looked past the flags to countless roads winding through the cemetery. How would we ever find the sites we had come to decorate?

“I think we should stop at the office to get a map or something,” I suggested.

“No, I know the way,” Mom said

Here we go again, I thought. But amazingly, road by road, turn by turn, Mom navigated us with centainty.

“Stop here!” she exclaimed. “This is it.”

She jumped out of th car and started up a small hill clutching the pot of flowers. I followed behind, fully expecting to have to start the hunt all over again. When I got to the top of the hill, there was Mom standing in front of the family gravesites. After lovingly placing the flowers she began to recall stories of her family and events from her past. I let the stories fill me, no longer in a hurry to rush home.

As the stories ended, we made our way back to Mom’s apartment where I got her settled for the week. I knew we had a long road ahead of us, but for today she had found her way. She had found her memories. As I helped her place medictions in the plastic pill box labeled with the days of the week, I wondered about things forgotten and things remembered. I thought back to what the doctor had said about the mystery surrounding memory loss.

“It seems,” she said, “that shallow memories are often forgotten by the brain first, but the things that are closest to us, deep in our souls, these are the things the heart remembers.”

I gave my mother a hug before leaving, hanging on longer than I usually do. This day, this memory, this time with my mother…this my heart will remember.

Threads of Thought

Author’s Note: Memorial Day, originally known as Decoration Day is set aside to honor women and men who have died in service to our country. Growing up in the midwest, our family tradition was to visit the cemetery on Memorial Day to remember those who were no longer with us.

A book with a blue cover and a row of crayons across the bottom. The title reads "Out of the CRayon Box" and a daffodil lays across the book

http://amazon.com/author/debravandeventer

May 21, 2023May 21, 2023

School’s Out : Reflections From a Retired Teacher

The author blowing bubbles to celebrate her last day of teaching — Blowing Bubbles to celebrate the last day of my teching career.

Reflections From a Retired Teacher on the Last Day of School

Another school year is coming to a close. This week marks the five-year anniversary of my retirment from a 37-year teaching career, yet I still get giddy this time of year. I remember well those last few days spent with a class that had been my life for duration of a school year. The challenges, the victories. The kids that made me laugh, the ones that made me cry. The hope that I had given the best part of myself to each one of my students, knowing there were some who needed more. The lessons I taught and the lessons I learned. When my students filed out of my room on that last day of school, I was always happy and sad…but mostly exhausted.

Fortunately, teachers are a resilient lot. We bounce back over the summer and regain our enthusiasm for the next year. The butterflies build, you get your room ready and you greet your new class with excitment. The cycle repeats itself, yet each year is different from the ones before. It keeps you young, challenged, alive.

First Year Teacher — My First Year of Teaching

My first class http://seamslikeastory.com/my-first-class/

However, you can’t go on forever. Teaching is an all-consuming profession, leaving little time or energy for anything else. There comes a point in each teacher’s life when it’s time to stop. I stayed with it longer than most. It was difficult to leave my students, my friends, my profession, but I knew it was time.

So what happens next? For me, the transition was rocky. I’d been in a school setting most of my life and the world “outside of the crayon box” was a foreign place. It took several years for me to adjust to my new life. I had to get used to being in charge of my own schedule, and even little things like meeting a friend at Starbucks in the middle of the day was a new experience. I kept a journal, found a writer’s group, and turned the ups and downs of my journey into a memoir. (see link below)

Now that I have time to explore, I’m discovering many interests. Writing has become a passion, along with sewing, traveling, and finding creative ways to spend time with children and grandchildren.

Today, I honor my past as an educator, and embrace adventures yet to come. I’m reminded of a line from a favorite movie, The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel. When Judi Dench starts a new career later in life she asks:”How many lives can one person have?”

“As many as you like,” she answers.

The author standing in Piazza San Marco in Venice. — Here’s to new adventures! (Me in Piazza San Marco in Venice)

So there you have it my friends: Reflections from a retired teacher. Enjoy life wherever you are in your journey, and (as one of my favorite authors and critique partner signs each of his emails) Go Well!

Threads of Thought

What do you remember about your time as a student or teacher on the last day of school?

What tips might you share with someone who is getting ready to retire?

Read more about my transition from teaching to retirement! http://amazon.com/author/debravandeventer

(Makes a great gift for someone who is retiring this year)

May 14, 2023May 14, 2023

Beyond the First Draft

Door Closed, Door Open

the author works on her second draft — I feel another draft coming on…

For those of you who follow my blog, you know that I have recently spent a whirlwind five days finishing the first draft of my second book. You can find the hilarious recap here: http://seamslikeastory.com/diary-of-a-first-draft/ Now I’m thinking about what happens next. Every writer has their own process, but here are some thoughts from famous authors, and from personal experience with my first book: Out of the Crayon Box: Thoughts on Teaching, Retirement, and Life.

Anne Lamott (Bird by Bird) calls the first attempt the “shitty first draft” that all writers must get down. She says:

“The first draft is the child’s draft, where you let it all pour out and then let it romp all over the place, knowing that no one is going to see it and that you can shape it later.”

a closed door with a do not disturb sign — Do the first draft with the door closed.

Door Closed

Stephen King (On Writing) says that you should write the first draft with the door closed. By this he means this first draft is for your eyes only. You write it without the help or influence of others. Once that initial rough draft is done, celebrate your accomplishment! It’s a big deal! Then King recommends putting is aside for a period of time (he says 6 weeks.) During this time, work on something else. Then take your manuscipt out (door still shut) and read it all the way through with fresh eyes. Do this in one sitting if possible and make notes. Look for mundane things like misspellings, inconsistancies, repeats. Then look for glaring holes. Is the story coherent? How can I make it sing? Rewrite the parts that need work.

Things are looking better! Now it’s time to open the door…

a critique group working around a table at a coffee shop — A little help from my friends…

Door Open

Once you get it right, or as right as you can at this point, be brave! Open the door and let others read your manuscript. This could be a few trusted friends, your critique group, beta readers, or an editor. Listen to what this group has to say. This is the first time your words are traveling out of your head and into the mind of a reader and it’s a crucial step. Something that was perfectly clear to you, may not make sense to someone else. What is the reaction to your work? Are two or more people saying the same thing? Carefully consider the input from your readers, then, as a writing friend of mine once said, “See what rings true for you.” In the end, it is your work.

Back to the drafting table you go to make any changes you think are necessary.

You’re almost there!

Final Polish

Now you have things the way you want and your manuscript is glowing! Go back through for a final look (King calls this the polish) before publishing or submitting it. Yes, I know, this tweaking process could go on forever, but at some point, you must tell yourself that you’re done, that this is the best you can possibly do at this point in your writing career, the best you’ve ever done, and you are happy with it.

Publish/Submit

Finally, you are ready to send your beautiful work out into the world. Will you self-publish? Seek an agent or publisher? Query magazines? All excellent topics for future blog posts. But one thing is certain… there is nothing like seeing your work in print. You simply must send it out.

“When you make it real, it can gloriously travel to all sorts of places. Even a seemingly tiny story can deeply affect other people.” -SARK (Juicy Pens Thirsty Paper)

Now go out and make it happen!

I did it and so can you! Check it out! http://amazon.com/author/debravandeventer

a published book arises from a stack of rough drafts — A published book arises from a stack of rough drafts.

Threads of Thought

As mentioned at the beginning of this post, each author has her/ his own process. What tips or advice would you give to others who are writing or thinking about writing? Add your comments below and join the conversation.

Seams Like a Story is a cozy blog that feels like a conversation with a friend over a cup of tea or coffee. (with no annoying pop-up ads) I’d love to have you be a part of it. Consider subscribing !