I’m Teaching a Writing Class!
I’m teaching a phone-in class for people not in Portland. Or maybe those people in Portland who don’t want to change out of yoga pants!
I’ll teach it on the phone, so what you need is a computer and a phone. I’ll teach you things over the tele-ma-phone! The computer is just for following along with the syllabus.
The class is called Story for Non-Writers.
And it’s all about the elements that make up story. It’s a story tool kit, as it were. So, if you’re a graphic designer and keep hearing the buzzword story, you can take this class and learn some more buzzwords about story. If you’re a person who has always wanted to write but just never knew where to start, this class starts you off.
It’s very little commitment — 2 hours, $19.99 — because I have it in my head that people want a creative outlet, but committing a lot of money or time to something new is intimidating. I might be wrong about this, but I think people like cheap and fast.
And you get to talk to me.
How do I know about story?
I have two novels published by Random House. And I’m a professional writer. I do copywriting, blogging for money and regular old journalism. I’ve taught writing at Saint Mary’s College of California and Pepperdine University. And I co-produce Portland’s popular live storytelling series, Back Fence PDX.
Class happens on Saturday, October 17th, 2009 at 10am. A week prior, I will email you the phone number to call and a syllabus for following along. On Saturday morning, I will give you an overview of the elements of story and how they all work together to create voice. It’s quick, dirty and cheap. And on the phone.
And I’ll give you writing assignments! Who doesn’t love that?!?
Want in?
Keep It Classy, Portland
Back Fence was awesome! 200 people turned out for awesome stories and great cupcakes! Thanks to people who showed up and to people who read this blog and put up with my Back Fence broadcasting.
So, Friday night Fancyhats and I went to the theater. Theeee-ah-tur. We saw Ragtime. What can I say, I love me some musicals. I like the big numbers. The ones where the entire cast is belting it out. I like that. I don’t like the quiet emotional solos. So boring and uncomfortably self-conscious. I don’t like those.
But I understand you need the quiet ones to make the loud ones so much more impressive.
All in all it was a great show, but for crap’s sake, Portland YOU ARE AT THE THEATER! DRESS UP!
For whatever reason, Portland doesn’t believe in leaving the house in anything other than jeans. WHY? Why is this? WHY IS IT IMPOSSIBLE TO TAKE PRIDE IN OUR APPEARANCE?
I mean, I understand that looking pretty can be perceived as insulting to all smart women (an accusation someone made about me — I know, I do have that much influence over EVERYONE) but seriously, we won’t set back feminism, or sustainability or green living if we put on a dress or a nice pair of slacks.
I was at the theater surrounded by people in flip flops and jeans. I wore a black dress and pearls because I WAS AT THE THEATER.
You know what else happened next to me? Someone brought in a dog. Not a seeing eye dog, but a Pomeranian. She sat there next to me with her Pomeranian in a small bag next to me. AT THE THEATER.
At one point, the dog shook its head and the stupid collar rattled and holy jeeburs, this is not the dog park!
I love living in this city, I do. I love biking everywhere. I have great friends. But the sheer sanctimonious narcissism is repulsive. The fact that we’re more comfortable in jeans, or our poor footsies are too hot in proper shoes, or that we bought a stupid little dog who can’t stay at home alone is nauseating.
In summary: Portland, GROW UP.
Also, I love you!
This is Where I’m Going to Be Tonight!
We have an auctioneer telling a story. And free cupcakes.
Seriously.
Free cupcakes.
Tickets here until 4:30, then get ‘em at the door!
I want to give you free Saint Cupcakes!
Okay, I just stole this post from the Back Fence site. But it’s so good, so I put it here too!
We ran a little contest over at Simler.com to win tickets for Back Fence this Wednesday. You can buy tickets here!
Some goodies from the Simler.com contest:
Cupcake in each hand,
I place my face between them
and SHAKE BACK AND FORTH.
i call you cupcake
not because i love you, but
because i love cupcakes
When eating cupcakes
one must resist the strong urge
to faceplant the box
From Cora Potter
sweet tooth pierces crumb
red velvet gives way to a
heart of buttercream
i have chosen the
cream cheese frosting not taken.
made the difference.
From Charley Daniels
My little cupcake
Changing hue from pink to blue
Cause I’m choking you
If you want an invite to simler.com, just send an email to melissa [at] backfencepdx [dot] com. If you want a free Saint Cupcake, buy tickets here!
Skinny Jeans
OMG, it’s Friday!
I wore my skinny jeans last night for the first time. Let me tell you how elegant it looks for a grown woman to hike up her jeans before sitting down. I didn’t realize the logistics involved in sitting in skinny jeans. My skinny jeans are a size 29, and I’m going to keep bragging about that because I puked and crapped three seconds after eating for a month and a half and the upshot of that is I wear a size 29. They’re extra tight. And I still have my woman curves even though I fit into a size 29 jeans.
I wore my skinny jeans to this graphic design function. It was in the Peacock Cleaners at the Ace Hotel. The Ace is a very hip, posh hotel and they took over the cleaners next door and remodeled it and made it all posh like the hotel. When we started Back Fence, it was my dream that we’d, one day, have our event at the cleaners. The cleaners holds 98 people. The Mission, which we sell out, holds 300. I was dreaming big.
Anysize29jeans (okay, that one didn’t work), I was at the event with a bunch of 19-year-old design students and their small spectacles and their skinny jeans and as I sat down in the full room of these very self-conscious people, I realized I didn’t hike up my jeans and that my ass crack would show.
It’s one thing for a 34 year-old woman to wear skinny jeans, quite another for her ass crack to show for an hour. So I stood up halfway and hiked. Then sat back down. And sat perfectly still for an hour in a state of pure fear that my ass would traumatize the young girl sitting behind me and dreaming of a day that she would find a man who could wear skinny jeans and an ironic mustache and not stink in his man parts after he rides his fixie the 25 blocks to her house.
Then Fancyhats and I went to Clyde Commons and ate their popcorn, which is the best popcorn in the entire world. True.
Hooray!
Archie’s birthday was awesome! Thank you all for your wishes. He had a great time. We had a great time. He’s four now!
And tickets to Back Fence are on sale. We’ve heard six of the stories and they are awesome!
Tickets on sale now! Get ‘em. And arrive early!
Happy Birthday, Archie
Four years ago, under a harvest moon, I told the doctor to go get my mom. I was going to push the baby out. The doctor said I had at least two hours, plenty of time, let her enjoy her lunch. I said, “GO GET MY MOM.” And someone did. My mom rushed in, and twenty minutes later, I had a new baby.
Also, if it hadn’t been for Archie forcing me onto bedrest for the last three months of my pregnancy, I would have never started blogged [ed. note -- this is a funny typo and I'm keeping it]. Thanks, Archie!
Happy Birthday!
Riddle Me This, Lip Gloss
A few things:
1) Entertainment for People killed. We were at capacity. The performers were amazing. It was a perfect event. Except for the part where I forgot to thank Nat and Meagan. And introduce myself. Other than that? Perfect.
2) I do not wear synthetic material. That includes panties. I also haven’t stepped foot into a Victoria’s Secret since I was 16 years old. I have pretty panties but I prefer Nordstrom and since moving to Portland, Oh Baby. For my regular daily cotton panties, I go Old Navy, and my favorites, my favorite daily hipster, cotton, boy panties come from Costco. I know, right? I just want to tell you this in case you ever think a pair of shiny nylon snags in the ass panties are mine, they are not. I believe in pretty panties. I also believe in cotton. Cotton panties ensure nice smelling lady bits. Synthetic, nylon, snag in the butt panties, however, do not.
3) Yesterday I needed to buy lip gloss. I was having that day when the kid is chattering for hours, the work stuff is barely getting done, a look at the finances is a horror and did I mention the kid chattering for hours? I was having that day and I had to go to the market because we were out of milk and all I could think of as my hands were shaking and I was feeling, I’ll say it, CRACKED OUT, was buying lip gloss. It seemed the only thing that would make my life make sense in that very moment.
So I stood in the lip gloss aisle in the market staring at the various displays as if the correct glossy fruity-tasting lip plumping thing would save my fucking life.
I picked up some Sally Hanson Comfort Shine Lip Glaze. Color: Sweet Raspberry.
And it came in a pot, which I prefer because I think it’s so sexy to watch a woman dip her finger in a pot of lip gloss and apply it to her lips. And I thought, when Fancyhats comes back from his dude weekend, I’m totally going to do that. TOTALLY. I’m going to sit next to him and when he’s telling me about dudes and golf and whatever, I’m going to carefully unscrew the lid to my new lip gloss, dip my finger in and pull that Sweet Raspberry lip gloss right across my mouth.
It was the only thing that made sense in that moment.
So I bought it, bills be damned.
And I opened it as soon as I got into the car.
And I found this:
Can you see that, internet? It’s an applicator of sorts. It’s in there and the lip gloss is not accessible by finger. GOD, HOW WAS I GOING TO SEDUCE FANCYHATS WITH NOTHING MORE THAN GROCERY STORE MAKE-UP?!?
So I pulled it out and, what’s more, it’s impossible to get any lip gloss on the fucker. After several minutes of trying, I got that little bit on there to show you, internet.
What’s more…WHAT’S FUCKING MORE is I spent the day wondering why that lip gloss made me so uncomfortable to apply. And it wasn’t until I took pictures for this very post that I realize why. It’s because that thing looks like a cat penis. A CAT PENIS.
I’ve been applying lip gloss with a cat penis.
Entertainment for People!
It’s on, tonight! Get tickets here until 4, then tickets are at the door!
And check out this awesome article on Entertainment for People in the Merc. They love us, The Merc does.
And at 3pm Portland time, I’ll be on KUFO 101.1 talking about Entertainment for People. Because I’m fancy like that.
Also, at some point today I going to go swimming. I rode my bike yesterday. My new routine is ride with Archie in the trailer and the trailer has two flat tires. I could get them fixed, I think. But you know what? It’s so much better for my butt. And my chocolate addiction.
I realize chatting about ones exercise is so painfully boring and I’m sorry about it.
Umm let me think…
I’ve given up being a writer in favor of being a narrative actualizer. NARRATIVE ACTUALIZER. I just need to work on saying that with a straight face and then it. is. on. Hello corporate America!
Narrative Actualizer.
I’m sorry, that’s all I’ve got.
No Swim For Me
God. You guys, the pool was closed. GAH. It’ll be closed through October 11th. So, I’m moving to plan b, which is go to a different pool. I would have done that today but I got stuck behind some dudes painting the lines on the road and what should have been a 10 minute trip took HALF OF MY LIFETIME.
So, Entertainment for People. You will buy your tickets in advance.
And Archie had his first day of preschool. It was good. I didn’t cry. He went off and played. It was pretty painless actually. Until the part about the line-painting roadmen and the pool closure. And then I became frustrated because let me let you into my brain, internet. Allow me to allow you a journey into my psyche.
I try to exercise most days. Sometimes I don’t. Sometimes the days pile up. And at the end of those days, I think, “ah tomorrow I will exercise and it will be glorious.” And I’ll set the time and get all mentally prepared and all of the pork products I’ve been eating will seem less urgent.
And when the day comes, I exercise. Unless there are road painting men and pool closures and then I FREAK THE FUCK OUT. And suddenly I’m convined that every singe pork product has returned and is JUST WAITING FOR ITS DELICIOUS CHANCE TO LAND SOMEWHERE ON MY BODY IN THE FORM OF FAT.
Overnight this will happen.
At least, this is what my brain tells me.
Today after the road painting and the pool closure I was driving in a parking lot and three morbidly obese women were walking toward me and I had this thought, “I am going to be like them if I don’t exercise. TOMORROW.”
I realize this isn’t true. In whatever logic center I might have, I realize this isn’t true. It’s small, that logic center. It’s small and cobwebby. And, frankly, so very boring.
So for the rest of the afternoon I felt that I was going to wake in the morning morbidly obese just two short days after I bought a pair of size 29 skinny jeans.
You hear me, Internet. SIZE 29.
Now please, you do not need to leave me a comment telling me I’m thin. I realize I’m on the smaller side. I don’t think that I’m fat today. What I think is that I’ll be fat tomorrow.
I know this is not logical, or reasonable. But there it is.
If you want to leave me a comment, do it instead by buying a ticket to Entertainment for People. Or do both.