Using Our Words: A New Anthology by Parent Writers

For many parent writers, it is enough of a challenge to find a spare moment to jot down our thoughts about parenting, our children, our new roles, and our shifting identities. Finding the additional time to research the publishing market, draft query letters, devise a marketing plan and get to a post office to send out our manuscripts often feels impossible. A number of parent writers have sought out alternatives to traditional publishing avenues and instead choose to showcase their work through online literary magazines, self-published zines, and blogs.

In California, Neighborhood Parents Network, a Bay Area parenting organization, has taken the unique step of editing, publishing and distributing an anthology of essays authored by group members, former members and friends. Using Our Words: Moms and Dads on Raising Kids in the Modern Neighborhood, edited by Kathy Briccetti, Lysa Hale, & Donna Jaffe, is a collection of essays by 29 authors, described as follows:

The voices of a single mom, gay dad, foster mom, mother of twins, a couple adopting cross-culturally, stepmother, and a transgendered mother ring out in this collection of intimate essays from an urban neighborhood. In these 38 engaging pieces, moms and dads rekindle sexual relationships, cope with potty talk at the dinner table, challenge gender stereotypes, referee food fights, and define modern fatherhood. From pregnancy hyperemesis to teenage alienation, sleep deprivation to report cards, these parents are negotiating the modern parenting landscape. These writers are politically conscious, contemporary parents in the process of holding their children close while simultaneously letting them go.

Authors include Literary Mama's own Sybil Lockhart (Reviews Editor and Mama in the Middle Columnist), Heidi Raykeil (Columns Editor and Sex in the Suburbs Columnist), Joanne Hartman (Profiles Editor and Mother Angst columnist), Rachel Sarah (Columns Editor and Single Mom Seeking Columnist), and Sophia Raday (Mommy Athens, Daddy Sparta Columnist), and LM contributors Dayna Macy, Suzanne LaFetra, and Rachel Hollowgrass.

Copies of the anthology can be ordered through NPN's website.

Wifely Expectations

Another quick post as the children are restless. When I hear about writers making 'great sacrifices' for their art such as up holing up in cabins in the woods or hotels while they churn out their novels, I must say it irritates me a little; the real test is trying to write while rocking the baby in one arm and swatting the pre-schooler away from the Delete key with the other.

But something is bothering me and I think that it warrants mention even though I feel a little like a one-note drummer. It's the Housewife thing again. Like a wasp at a picnic, it's annoying and it won't go away. It also seems innocuous enough until it stings.

Yesterday, I had Dr. Phil on as I tried to decide which box to thaw out for dinner. His program was on Wifestyles and was a follow-up to an earlier show featuring a guest named Wayne who had suggested his spouse needed "wife lessons" because she was unable to follow his long list of requirements for wives.

I turned up the volume, because someone had just forwarded to me The Smoking Gun article on the crazy guy facing criminal charged in Iowa for attempting to kidnap his wife (among other things) who had drafted a very disturbing "Contract of Wifely Expectations".

"That must be the guy!" I thought as Phil reintroduced us to Grant and his 75-point list of requirements which included: "organizing closets; organizing hallway closet; keep the car clean; grocery shopping; cook efficiently; use the oven; use the stove; get rid of the stuff you don't use or need; sew; mend; wash; load and use the washing machine properly; basic routine maintenance on washer, dryer, oven, dishwasher, fridge, freezer, toaster; decorate windows; weekly and monthly cleaning; positioning of furniture; organize videos and DVDs; organize CDs; organize the linen; stock the linen; sanitize the bathrooms; cook Mexican food; get country dance lessons, Latin dance lessons, hip-hop dance lessons; and do preventative maintenance relating to common household items." Grant wanted his wife to dress sexier and had suggested that she wash his truck in her bathing suit and have breast augmentation surgery. He graded her cooking abilities. And not only did Grant feel that his wife should do all 75 things on his list (in addition to caring for their three children), but that all wives should be subjected to the same expectations: "those are just things I thought that a wife in general would need to know. . . . A wife staying at home [with children] ought to be able to handle those things." Scary.

But the really scary part was that Phil's guest was not the crazy Iowa guy. In fact, there was no mention of the crazy Iowa guy; the timing, so it seemed, was pure coincidence. Phil had done a follow-up show because "When Grant and Kelly were on the show, they ignited a huge debate over the topic of what defines a good wife." Debate? What exactly was there to debate?

There was, of course, the view that Grant was wrong. That expecting his partner to do all of the cooking and cleaning and dress up in sexy little numbers and take hip hop lessons after caring for their three children all day was ridiculous. But then a viewer named Amy voiced her opinion (as did thousands of others) that Grant's wife was indeed shirking her responsibilities and not doing her "job": "I think that what happens a lot of times in marriages is you come to an agreement of one person staying at home and one person taking on that responsibility, then the stay-at-home person, whether it's the mom or the dad, gets into the situation, realizes it's a lot harder than what they expected, and then doesn't want to be held accountable for their choices of being responsible in that role."

Ugh. And here we go again. That role. When exactly did the role of full-time, at-home caregiver morph into that of "housewife"? Why is it that there is an assumption that the person looking after the children is responsible for absolutely everything having to do with running a household? Sure, when grape juice gets spilled, it makes sense for the person there to wipe it up before it dries into a sticky mess. And, with a baby, laundry must be done. Frequently. But this notion that if someone is at home, everyone else in the family is "off the hook" when it comes to domestic activities seems so strange. And the expectation that the person at home will do all of this work with a smile while wearing sexy clothes is unsettling.

It is especially unsettling when we hear it from other women. On the original "wifestyles" show, one of the guests offered the following advice to "other stay-at-home moms": “Be the woman your husband wants you to be. Before he comes home: dress up, clean up, have a hot meal waiting for him when he gets home. Have a shoe basket by the door to keep the floor clean, so you don’t busy yourself mopping and sweeping, so you’re with him. If your husband reaches for you, grab tighter. If he kisses you, kiss longer. If your husband loves you, love him more. There’s nothing more a husband wants than a loving wife and a good meal.” Be a Total Woman. Be a Happy Housewife. Surrender to marriage. Biology is destiny.

On the face of it, perhaps it doesn't seem harmful. You are a woman. A mom. Look after the kids. Vacuum the drapes. Look pretty. You man doesn't want to come home to a mess at the end of a hard day. What's the big deal? And if everyone were smart and rational and reasonable and well-intentioned, perhaps it would be fine. But we live in a world with Grant and with the creepy Iowa guy. And women supporting -- trumpeting -- the message that motherhood somehow equals servitude isn't fine at all.

Bits and Pieces

Just a brief post from me. We are all cold-ridden over here and we were up until the wee hours in the E.R. with our 6 month old (he's fine). But I thought that a couple of things that happened this week were worth mention:

Judith Warner wrote a thoughtful op-ed piece in the New York Times on the work started by Betty Friedan. It's nice to see some conversation about mothering and feminism in the mainstream press.

Darla Shine (yes, I have finished my review and it will be posted soon) has revamped her website to make it more exclusionary. If you are a full-time working mother, she does not want you to sign up, or to buy her t-shirts, or to book passage on her Happy Housewives cruise. I know I'll have more to say about this, but I'm still slightly in shock.

And speaking of vacuuming, I read in Self Magazine (I know, I know) that the more time a woman under the age of 50 spends doing housework, the lower her income. The underlying study provides food for thought with respect to mothering and the second shift.

LM Blog tour: Blog posts and more questions answered

Thanks to Suburban Turmoil and Miss Cellania, who wrote great posts about their impressions of the book (Miss Cellania even provided photographic proof that she read it!). Suzanne at Mother in Chief writes today about her take on the Literary Mama anthology, and later on look for blog tour posts from Dawn and Megan. And now, answers to some more questions from Jody:

Is mother-writing different from father-writing?

Yes, I think so – mostly because mothers' experiences are so different than fathers' experiences, as parents and as writers.

Now I know this is not indicative of all male writers who are also fathers, but I can't help remembering the panel I was on a few years ago with Faulkner Fox at the Virginia Festival of the Book. We were there to speak about mother-writing, and how we balance creativity with parenthood. Included on the panel was a guy who had self-published a book about being a father. He was an animated conversationalist, and a real marketing hound who had sold his books to specialty shops up and down the eastern seaboard, making a nice profit for himself along the way. But it was clear whenever he answered any of the questions that his experience as a father-writer could not have been more different from ours as mother-writers.

For him there was no question of "balancing" creative work and parenting – it wasn't his job to do that; that fell to his wife. At first Faulkner and I tried to be polite, but after a while even the audience turned on him. Someone asked us how we managed our time – how we wrote books and took care of our young children – and I talked about how I wrote Mother Shock on a tight deadline because the only childcare I had was Emi's eight-week, three-hour a day summer school class, how I work during naptime and after I put the kids to sleep, how I learned to work in short spurts of stolen moments rather than precisely scheduled blocks of time. And then the dad guy jumped in and shared how when he was writing his book, it was so crazy, he just left the kids with his wife and checked into a hotel for a week to write around the clock!

I tell you, he barely made it out of there alive.

Why do so many mothers seem to have a real need to read literature about mothering?

Well, as I said in my answer to Miriam's question, I think literature both takes us out of and gives us a deeper look into our own lives. Mothering, especially in the early years, can be so isolating. Reading someone else's words, in black and white on the page (or even flickering on the computer screen), can be so comforting. I still remember being astonished, crying grateful tears of relief to find myself discovered on the pages of Child of Mine, an anthology of women writers on pregnancy, childbirth, and the early years of motherhood. Literature inspires us and makes us recognize ourselves. As new motherhood is a time when many women feel "invisible," I'm not surprised at all that women are eager to connect with this kind of work.

Do you think that literature about mothering is taken seriously by the literary world?

The glib answer: No. Unless it's written by a man.

The more serious answer: not seriously enough. Mothering as a daily act is unremarkable – billions of people and even animals accomplish this every day – but the experience of it is not. Good writing about that experience isn't either. I think too often it's easy to dismiss writing about motherhood as less important than writing about other subjects because of the prejudice against the subject matter. And in some ways I agree – I mean, we've all done this mothering thing, we all know how boring and repetitive it can be. Wiping butts, cleaning dishes, picking up toys, singing "The Wheels on the Bus" – it's not exactly the stuff of great literature. And it's also true that culturally writing mothers have been constricted by a small range of allowable topics for exploration, and by certain acceptable modes of framing those topics. We have in the past been allowed to be light-hearted, sentimental, humorous, and precious; more recently, we have been allowed to be dark, flip, angry, and personal. I think to have literature about mothering taken seriously, we need to write well about mothering (which certainly can be the stuff of great literature, and we need to cast off the notion that mothers can only write in certain ways and in certain modes about our experiences.

Do you think that literature about mothering could be interesting to people who don't have children?

I would like to say yes. After all, we have all been children; we have all had a parent in some form or another, whether that figure is biological, adopted, or chosen, an actual mother/father or a mentor. It should be interesting to us, even if we don't have children. And yet I know from personal experience that the character I identified with in stories before I had children was the child; the character I identify with now that I have children of my own is the mother. I don't know if people can find stories about mothers all that interesting if they are not mothers themselves. Which is why it is so important to me that literature about mothering be more than just "stories about being a mother." It has to be, primarily, compelling writing.

LM Blog Book Tour: More reader questions answered

Thanks to Caroline, This Mom, Melanie Lynne Hauser, and Gayle Brandeis for blogging about the book this week! And Susan reflects more on her earlier post about the book, which brought up feelings for her around motherhood, creativity, and the need for solitude. There's a great essay up at Literary Mama right now that touches on this. Today, Wonder Mom writes about the book and promises a copy of the book to some lucky commenter, and Asha talks about her favorite pieces. Look for a blog book tour post from Kelly later today!

And now a question from a reader -- in this case, also a writer. Jody Mace asks:

How did your own writing change when you had children? Or is parenting just one more thing to write about?

My writing changed completely when I had children. For one thing, it came out of the closet. I'd worked as an editor for about eight years by the time my daughter was born, and I was quite content to hide behind other people's words. I was too afraid to put my own work out there – and as long as I didn't, I'd never have to answer the troubling question that nagged at me: what if I tried to publish my work and it was rejected? What if I discovered that although I'd always secretly thought of myself as a writer my whole life, I wasn't one? Once I had my first child, though, I had a story I couldn't stop telling. So I started writing for publication, and I found, to my surprise, that rejection is a hell of a lot less painful than giving birth without an epidural.

To answer your second question, it's true that as I move away from those intense early years of motherhood (my oldest child is now nearly 7), I am less compelled to write about parenting the way I did in the beginning. Now, maybe, it is becoming "one more thing" to write about, instead of the only thing. Before I was published, back when I wrote secret things in computer files with passwords so oblique and obscure that even I forgot them, I had this notion that the reason why I wasn't writing to be published right then was that I didn't have my One Big Story. I reasoned that when I finally had my One Big Story, the words would flow, I'd know exactly what to say, I'd have my Big Story to tell, and I'd push past my fear of rejection, because my Big Story would be even bigger than that. Once I found myself on "the dark side" of motherhood, and once I began writing about it, I realized with no small amount of trepidation: my god – here's my One Big Story, my thing that I can't shut up about. And I did write, and the words did flow, and I did figure out what to say, and I did face my fear of rejection (and continue to to this day, thanks to the lovely one-star reviewers at Amazon). But what I realized was that this notion of my One Big Story was a lie. I didn't have only one story to tell; I have a million stories, a ton of stories, I could spend the rest of my life gladly writing down stories. My concept of that One Big Story was a way to protect myself from actually writing one – a way to hold myself back from having to hold myself up to public scrutiny and finally have my writing in the world instead of in my head, or in that password-protected computer file. In the end, I realized, I didn't have only one big story; I just needed that one big story to get me started.

Tomorrow on the blog tour: IRaiseMyKids, Suburban Turmoil, and Miss Cellania. And I'll answer another good question from Jody : is mother-writing different from father-writing?

Repeating Our History

I was saddened to hear about the death of NOW co-founder and Feminine Mystique author Betty Friedan yesterday.

I didn't really know why I felt sad. I did not know her. She was 85 years old. By all accounts, she had lived a very full and remarkable life.

It was author Ann Douglas who (as always) hit the nail on the head in her blog post. I think I felt sad because I realized that after all of the hard work of feminism, which the tributes written to Friedan chronicled, we are still having some of the same, tired conversations. We continue to be told that we need to be Happy Housewives just as we were 50 years ago. Only now, we also are expected to be Yummy Mummies and pilates ourselves into a pair of $400, size 0 jeans six weeks post-partum.

Sometimes I feel that there has been significant progress. Corporations are becoming more aware of work/life balance issues. There are laws to prevent gender discrimination in the workplace. Divorce courts often recognize the work of mothering in the division of marital assets. The much loved Dove Girls commercials, for example, finally (finally!) show us what real women look like (of course, Unilever, the company which markets Dove, also markets Axe cologne which has some of the most sexist ads out there).

But then, there is also this retrograde 'come on girls, let's put on our aprons and lipgloss and tell the feminists that they got it all wrong' thing that is bubbling up in the mainstream media and threatens to tug at our heels like quicksand. There is this desire to revive the spectre of the Ugly Feminist and to dismiss all of the work that has been done on our behalf. Only now instead of hearing that feminists don't get dates, we are now being told that feminists are anti-mom. I have just finished penning the first draft of my review of Happy Housewives, where Shine accuses organizations such as NOW and feminists in general as being somehow anti-mother. She seems to forget that many feminists, including Friedan, were mothers themselves.

I just feel sad, I guess, that we, as women, as mothers, seem to be a little stuck. Thanks, in part, to Friedan, we know that we are being played. That we are being fed a line so that we will want to Clean Our Homes (and buy the cleaning products) and Be Thin (and buy the weight loss products) and Be Perfect Moms (and buy things to alleviate our guilt and our stress when we invariably fall short). And yet, somehow, we still seem tempted to buy into it -- at least, I know I do.

When I am reminded of the achievements of Friedan and her feminist sisters, I feel so grateful for all of that they did for our generation (to think that only 50 years ago women used to be fired when they grew old or got married or became pregnant.) But I guess I also feel a little worried. Worried that as feminists like Freidan die, we will lose sight of why they fought for what they fought for. I am worried that we will start to take feminist issues lightly. That we won't get mad when people infantilize us, patronize us, dismiss us as Yummies or Happy Housewives or Hot Moms, somehow try to convince us that feminism isn't feminine and tell us that Motherhood is just another arena where women can compete.

And that when our daughters reach our age, and have children of their own, they too will be stuck having the same tired, old conversations.

LM Blog Tour: Questions answered!

Welcome to week two of the Blog Book Tour for the Literary Mama anthology! Look for posts today from This Mom, Gayle Brandeis, Martha Brockenbrough, and Melanie Lynne Hauser.

In the meantime, today I'm answering the first of my reader-submitted questions about Literary Mama and the LM anthology. These questions come from fellow Seal Press author and good friend Miriam Peskowitz.

Why should mothers read literature? Isn't nuts-and-bolts, how-to parent writing enough?

Good question! But to me, in a way, that's like asking, "Why eat fruit? Isn't eating grains and vegetables and protein enough?" As an avid reader, I can't imagine a life without reading, and even though motherhood has compressed my available "free time" to an incredible degree, I find myself needing good literature now more than ever. And when I say "good," I don't mean lofty, or Important, or boring, or academic, or literary, or whatever adjectives people like to use to describe books that seem more like assignments than enjoyments; I just mean works that lift me out of my own life. As a mother, alternately plunged into the most mundane and most vital aspects of existence, reading books is a window out of and into my busy, complicated, boring (and when you think about it pretty incredible) life.

As to the question of nuts-and-bolts, how-to writing about parenting – sure, that is good to read. It's always enlightening to see how other people accomplish the practical aspects of motherhood. (For a great recent entry into the "-hacker.com" Web 2.0 fray, see ParentHacks, a compilation of quirky, practical, creative, and sometimes hilarious tips from random parents.) But that kind of glossy magazine stuff can be addictive for me – in a bad way. I find myself too easily getting sucked into the idea that there is some kind of definitive solution to whatever problem is facing me, and that if I could JUST. TRY. HARD ENOUGH. I could be the best parent ever. Of course, this is designed to fail. And for me, that kind of "quest to be the best" is very toxic. It makes me anxious, it makes me feel bad about myself, and it makes me rigid. When in reality, parenting is dynamic and fluid and ever-changing. So I like to balance out the advice writing – which certainly has its place, and which is very comforting to me in small doses on certain subjects – with the kind of writing I find in literature.


What's the literary in Literary Mama?

The "literary" in Literary Mama is just what I described above: the willingness to explore more than just the prescriptive, to imagine a multitude of ways to approach a subject, and to engage that subject in writing. Do you have to be a writer to enjoy Literary Mama? No – but I'm guessing you probably have to be a reader. Or at the very least, someone who is interested in reading. "Literary," I know, sometimes scares people off – what, are these a bunch of smartypants, high-falutin' snobs who would sooner die than read a book with a pair of stiletto heels on the front? I can assure you that we at Literary Mama are equal opportunity readers who enjoy everything from chick lit to memoir to screenplay to literary fiction and everything in between. The Literary in Literary Mama is about making mother-writing count as "real writing," as writing that matters. And if you care about that -- and about reading that kind of writing -- then you're a literary mama.

Literary Mama's editor-in-chief, Amy Hudock, also chimes in with an answer to Miriam's first question about why literature about motherhood is important:

All literature is about story-telling, about sharing what is inside with the outside world. Traditionally, people would share what they were feeling and experiencing through stories so that they would not feel so alone. The tribe would gather, and stories would be sung, performed, acted out or spoken so that all could know what was going on in the hearts and minds of the people they lived with. Now that we have the printed word so readily available, we can still engage in that kind of sharing -- but through reading that reveals more than how to do something. When I became a mother, I wanted to read what other mothers felt, how their lives had changed, what they had learned about the world and themselves through motherhood. I wanted to know what was going on in the inside of other mothers so I could better understand what was going on in me. That is why I read literature about motherhood. That may be why other mothers do, too.

Welcome

Welcome, new readers, to the Literary Mama blog. You may have found us by way of media appearances or book readings for Literary Mama, It's A Boy, or Confessions of a Naughty Mommy, all of which were written or edited by Literary Mama editors. Perhaps you attended one of the Mother Talks which took place in various cities over the last few month. However you found us, I'd invite you to take a litle time to wander through the Literary Mama website, named one of Forbes' Best of the Web. So whether you prefer columns, book reviews, author profiles, fiction, literary criticism, creative nonfiction or poetry, we feature some of the best writing out there today by mother writers. So find a comfy spot, pour yourself a cup of coffee and stay awhile. Oh, and feel free to leave a comment on the blog -- we always love to know what you think.

Naughty Mommy and Tucker Carlson

Literary Mama Editor, Columnist and Naughty Mommy Heidi Raykeil was featured on The Situation with Tucker Carlson on MSNBC last night. Seems like she had Mr. Carlson feeling a little hot and bothered under his trademark bow tie. The transcript can be found here (about half way down the page).

Literary Mama Blog Book Tour: Blogger in the Spotlight

The blog book tour for the Literary Mama anthology kicked off this week with seven bloggers writing about the book. I'd like to shine the spotlight on one of the bloggers, who has also been published on Literary Mama and has a piece in It's a Boy: Susan Ito. Susan was at our January reading in Oakland and writes a wonderful entry about her reaction to the book:

Ever since attending a dynamic, amazing, standing-room only reading for the Literary Mama anthology a few weeks ago, I've been devouring the book. It's really an extraodinary collection, and one that belongs on every mother's bookshelf. These mothers are real. Their voices are authentic, they are weary and joyful and irritable and awestruck and honest. They tell the real story about motherhood in a way that so many parenting books just don't. They go places that we've all gone and yet few have been willing to tell about in a voice louder than a whisper.

But they're not all gloom and doom and despair. Some of the pieces are hysterically funny, like Jennifer Eyre White's "Analyzing Ben." (at Diesel Books, she read this piece using a visual aid poster that depicted the vast differences between her son and her daughter) While incidences of her daughter "eating dirt" at 16 months was "none," for Ben it was "uncountable."

Linda Lee Crosfield's short but powerful poem, Packing the Car, provided one of the most poignant moments in the book for me, as she helps her son prepare for his final departure away from his childhood home.

I stand aside
watch helplessly
as books stream from shelves
into boxes, out the door
and I envy them their invitation
to accompany him on this journey
to the rest of his life

Sob!

The writing in this book is solid and gorgeous. None of the contributors come across as mothers who happen to have a writing hobby; these are writers who happen to be mothers. Ericka Lutz's essay, Why My Garden, about her journey to Auschwitz is both lyrically beautiful and appropriately solemn.

Rachel Sarah is a bold young mama with a great, fresh writing style. Her short piece, "Coming," is about exactly what your dirty little mind thinks it's about. She wants to date a guy who seems perfect father material, but his fatal flaw is leaving her orgasmless while he snores on the pillow. It's funny, it's true, and it's also an important voice that isn't afraid to ask, "What about me?" It made me want to cheer.

When I read Sybil Lockhart's essay, "Gray," I felt as if she had entered my own home and family. She writes so poignantly, lovingly and honestly in her Mama in the Middle columnabout her mother's life with Alzheimer's - with appropriate doses of fear, frustration, disgust, humor and affection. Her essay is the one that prompted me to write my first fan letter to Literary Mama.

Only one of the pieces in the book evoked a strong negative response, but I think this speaks to its power. When I began reading Lizbeth Finn-Arnold's Out of the Woods: Or How I Found My Muse at Walden Pond,, I was thrilled to read these words:

I am a solitary person. Where others may seek out company, I seek out secluded places of thoughtfulness and self-discovery.

I felt a shiver of recognition. Yes! I thought. That's me! I dove into the essay, thrilled to be reading a piece by a mother who also apparently loved solitude. But as I read, my heart sank. This was not about a mother who managed to champion for her own solitude, but one who resigned herself to never being able to really have it. She ends the essay saying that she writes in "snippets" in the midst of the chaos.

I try only to "Live each season as it passes; breathe the air, drink the drink, taste the fruit, and resign yourself to the influence of each."

Maybe she's right. Maybe Thoreau and Ecclesiastes and the Byrds have a point about every time having a season, every thing having its time and all that. But personally, I want more. This piece is a great one because it's wonderfully written and because it caused me to sit up and scream, "No!"

Hardly any of the pieces in this book will evoke a neutral response. Readers will scream, and cringe, and laugh until they pee as they read this book. They will wipe away more than a few tears. And more than anything they'll feel not alone.

Susan is a wonderful writer, and her blog is always excellent reading. Thanks, Susan, for your thoughtful review of the book!

More from The Naughty Mommy

Just in time for Valentine's Day, Literary Mama's The Naughty Mommy is at it again! This time she's been answering readers' questions over at The Washington Post.