Workshop!

I am thrilled to announce that I will be conducting a Creative Nonfiction workshop at Artworks Gallery and Studio in Scranton. The class will meet every Thursday night in June (7th, 14th, 21st, & 28th), from 6pm to 8pm.  The cost for all four weeks is $80.  Please call the gallery at 570-207-1815 to register.

Here’s a quick description of the class:

“Often referred to as the fourth genre, Creative Nonfiction encompasses a large variety of writing styles. In this class, we will examine the personal essay, the memoir, travel/nature writing, and writing reviews. Participants should bring a pen and paper or laptop, and be ready to write! This will be an informal setting where we will discuss characteristics of the genre, look at examples from masters of the craft, and workshop our own stories. I will also talk about possible paths to publication. Classes will meet for two hours each week.”

Hope to see you there!

News and Stuff Like That

This past weekend I was honored to participate in the first Scranton Story Slam!  The event was created by Zoe McNichols, a Senior at Abington Heights High School, and was a huge success.  According to Conor O’Brien, fellow storyteller and proprietor of The Vintage Theater, where the event was held, there were about 140 people in attendance.  It was a great event and I was so happy to see a string showing for the arts in Scranton!

In other news, Wilkes University recently released video of the alumni readings that were held this past January during the MFA residency.  You can see mine here.

More on StorySlam in a later post.

Finally, please try to come out for April’s Prose in Pubs.  We have some great readers lined up and are very excited!

April 22nd, 7pm at Jack’s Draft House!

Cleaning the Playroom: A PMS Poem.

On thousands of sheets of paper you scribble

unicorns with two horns, women with balloon breasts, houses with smiling windows

sticks with jagged hair, triangle skirts, and elongated arms with four-fingered hands.

Your name skirts across the bottom like a slick rock on the skin of a lake.

Your five-year-old name.

crooked, ignorant of upper and lower-case mingling

free from form.

My heart sinks to the bottom of me

knowing this moment can never

still,

knowing time will soon spool away from me

from us

from the two little stick girls clinging to their mommy’s four fingers.