Now Reading: July 2015
Writing Prompt: Growing a Tribe
After Page One: Finding Time
Summer Literary Events
”Well, clearly I’m not needed here, ” I said to Marc, shoving on my shoes. I felt like my own child’s temporary babysitter, just waiting for the real parent to get home. Everything in me felt bruised.
In the end, I walked away after arranging a quick service, realizing that in the more than 20 years I’d known my father, I had never taken the time to learn his favorite color.
Touch seems to offend her; she screams and writhes when I brush her thick, curly hair, crying in what sounds like pain and forcing me to wrestle with her on the floor.
Gazing at the ceiling, Clancy lost himself in the trails and shadows of his mind and discovered the process of thought without thinking.
Sweetie. My eyes well up with tears. The word had rolled off of her tongue so easily, as if these past six months never existed. The last time she called me that, my dad was still alive.
During the most intense period of physical and emotional attachment, when my daughter was an infant, writing was a means to connect to my deepest self. It was also a way to disconnect from her, to temporarily tear myself away from the vigil of meeting her every need.
This month’s Essential Reading offers literary examples of fatherhood. Join our staff as we highlight literary fathers, characters who command our respect, or at the very least, our attention.
We just made a child/ he said to the dark. // I was merely aiming/ for the place where self is lost . . .
happiness matters, like breakfast / on the table.
when I see a hole now, I think / he could fix that
As deputy editor, Rita Arens is a regular featured speaker at BlogHer’s annual conferences, the world’s largest conferences for women in social media. She recently spoke with Lisa Lynne Lewis about mommy blogging, writing about her experience with anorexia, and how blogging is similar to performance art.
Papas and Their Literary Daughters: A Review of Every Father’s Daughter: Twenty-four Women Writers Remember Their FathersJenn McKee
McMullan notes that when she couldn’t read or write following her father’s death, she realized that what she needed was a collection of essays written by women about their fathers. When she couldn’t find one, she reached out to writers who she and her father had gotten to know, or had admired, and asked them to contribute one.
The poems here consider fatherhood and the power of memory to ignite joy and pain at once. For many parents, this is a powerful truism, that our experiences run through fits of joy and suffering repeatedly and in many forms.
Henion’s journey begins when she gives birth to her son, Archer, and enters a phase of arduous disruption, lack of sleep and the parenting blasé that follows, complete with no-cry sleep solutions and a culture of judgment that she wasn’t prepared for.