Friday, September 12, 2025

Writing with JOY!!! by Mary Ann Rodman

    I ran into an old friend this summer.  I hadn't checked in with her in awhile, but she had been right there on my bookshelf the whole time. Before Julia Cameron and her "artist dates" and Anne Lamott's "bird by bird" mantra, there was Brenda Ueland's seminal writing book, So You Want to Write. For a book first published in 1938, and rediscovered in 1983 by Greywolf Press, Brenda''s peppy prose hasn't aged at all.





So You Want to Write was the first book on writing I ever read. Honesty, I didn't know there was such a thing as a "how-to-write" book. By 1984, I had given up writing, except for journaling. I had written my whole life, with some decent success...for a kid.  Competing against other young writers was one thing but against professionals? How could I hope to compete? So I didn't. 

I missed writing, but figured it was an unrequited love. I was a school librarian, a job I loved but... I'd read the YA books at work and think "I could do better than this." Then I'd tell myself to shut up and forget about it. Until the next time.

Brenda was introduced to me via NPR. I was driving home from work when NPR reviewed So You Want to Write. It was the briefest of All Things Considered segments but I gathered that Ms Ueland believed  anyone could write. You didn't need an MFA or an Ivy League degree. You didn't have to live a wild bohemian life in Greenwich Village, (although Brenda Ueland was quite the Village wild child in the Roaring 20's.) Everybody's life provides them with the tools to be a successful writer. All you really need is the desire, and willingness to be spend the time writing.

I had to find this book! In the days before Amazon, that meant driving almost a 100 miles, one way to the nearest bookstore. Thank God for Barnes & Noble; they had the book. It was all I could do not to floor the car all the way home to read my new treasure.

And what a treasure it was! I still have never read anything as intimate and reassuring. It was as if Brenda Ueland was sitting next to me, chatting about writing over steaming mugs of black tea. Write what you love, write with passion and abandon. Forget the spelling and the grammar and the symbolism and all the writing tricks and techniques. Just write! Write honestly, without pretense. Don't use ten dollar words unless that's exactly what you want to say. And remember...we all can write!

Encouraged, I read on. Write without regard to money or audience.  Write for you!

Oh. I thought about all those things every time I scrolled a sheet of paper into my typewriter. Brenda was especially fond of William Blake and Van Gogh, two artists who created for their own pleasure. They also were almost unknown in their own time. Brenda herself was quite a successful journalist, writing for all the popular magazines of her day. She wasn't worrying about paying the rent! I would have to work on the "not worrying" part. I read on.

Observe life with JOY!!! (I could imagine Brenda fairly shouting those words.) Write what catches your eye, what you think about, no matter how insignificant. No self judgement. Just write. Be free! I picture Brenda on her feet, waving her hands as if to shoo me off to my desk. Go! Now! What are you waiting for?

After reading So You Want to Write I walked around in a golden haze of observation, as if I was in love. When you are in love, everything in your world takes on a special significance.  Life smells sweeter, tastes better, feels soft as velvet. Everything moment has meaning. I was in love with words. I wrote and wrote and wrote.

Writing with JOY!!  I banged out the first three chapters of a YA novel that I stupidly submitted without writing the rest of the book. When the publisher said they wanted to read the whole thing, I faked a week-long bout of flu to finish the story. (Surprise! Writing a book in a week does not work unless you are Stephen King.)

I kept working with JOY!!! but as time went on, I became aware of my own weaknesses. I didn't know how to structure a plot or build a character. I just wrote. I could (and still can) spin out pages and pages without ever creating a story. (The best critique I ever got was "You write very well but you aren't saying anything.") Eventually I found my way to the Vermont College MFA program, and learned how to do those things. As I became focused on craft and pace and technique, I didn't always write with JOY!!! Sometimes I was just slogging from one plot point to the next. I forgot about Brenda.

But you know what? In the end, Brenda was absolutely right. My first sold book was one I wrote with great passion (and a Diet Coke and Jim Beam!)in two hours without thinking of an audience. I never remotely considered submitting to a publisher, because I didn't "know how" to write a picture book. I wrote it only to cheer up my three-year old daughter. She could've cared less. That book was My Best Friend.



That manuscript would never have left my desk if circumstances hadn't interfered to prevent me writing anything else for two months. I needed to something to send in as part of my semester's work for Vermont.  So I sent the picture I didn't know how to write.  I was not surprised when no one in my critique group had anything good to say about it...except the moderator, the great Eric Kimmel.  He thought I should "send it somewhere." I was deliriously happy because in a full year into the program no one had so much as hinted that I had written anything worth publishing. After 27 rejections, it found a home with Viking, the last publisher on my alphabetical list. Twenty years later, it is still in print. I discovered last month that the school system where my daughter teaches, gave every K-2 classroom a copy of My Best Friend. That's a lot of book sales! 

My most successful books have been ones that I wrote for myself (or my daughter) without considering whether they were topical or part of a curriculum. They were fun. I wrote with JOY!!! 

I remembered all this when I found So You Want to Write on my bookshelf. It's been awhile since I've written with joy and abandon and without looking over my shoulder. JOY!!! has been absent from my life for a considerable period of time. I'm writing on an otherwise extremely stressful day, but for the hour in which I created this post, it was absolutely with JOY!!!

Thank you, Brenda Ueland!

Posted by Mary Ann Rodman

Friday, September 5, 2025

FRIENDS WRITING RETREAT & POETRY PROMPT

A WRITING RETREAT WITH MY BEST FRIEND

Howdy, Campers ~ and happy Poetry Friday! 

Today's PF host is Heidi at My Juicy Little Universe. Her link, my poem, a poetry prompt, and a link to my one-day, 3-hour Writing Poetry class on September 24, 2025 are at the end of this post

This August, Bruce Balan and his wife Alene D. Rice (who have been sailing around the world on their boat, Migration for twenty years) stayed with us for a month. 

Bruce and Alene on Migration, 
their home for over 20 years.

Migration is named after Bruce Balan's picture book,
THE CHERRY MIGRATION; thus, her cherry red hull.

In case you're wondering, they are the most marvelous house guests you'd imagine: they tiptoed in if they came back late at night, treated us to dinners, came bearing gifts (manuka honey!), often left for a few days to visit friends and relatives, and left a bouquet of fresh flowers and hidden thank yous all over the house. Our dog and cat adored them so much, our cat slept on their bed for days after they'd left. (Okay, yes, I was a tad jealous that our pets' affections transferred to Bruce and Alene so completely and so fast.)

Kitty waited at their bedroom door 
until they came home

Bruce and I have been sending each other a poem a day since 2010. Months ago, Bruce suggested that he and I plan a writing retreat when they came to the States, so that we could sort through our 10,000+ poems to find the gems for a book.

What fun!

Here's a peek, culled from my journal, of our first full day:

After yesterday's four-hour drive up the California coast, today has been very productive. 

Morning: Bruce and I made breakfast, then practiced yoga on the front grass (he and Alene do yoga on their boat every day, guided by this app which gives clear—and kind—instructions). The lawn overlooks Peacock Hill Farm's 50 acres of orchards, and the beautiful rolling hills of neighboring farms.

Fields of Peacock Hill Farm and beyond

The owners, whose house adjoined our rental, were out of town--so we were the rulers of this gorgeousness for three full days. At first, we were nervous that the peacocks would wake us up early each morning with the typical infant wailing/screaming alley cat music they make. But it turned out that there were only two who never screeched. We named them John and Mary.

Our work begins. Thank goodness Bruce is so organized. He sets our daily schedule, and I'm grateful for that:

1: Sitting in separate work spaces, we each re-read some of the hundreds of poems written by the other, adding only those we thought might fit our book to a folder. (I made a YES folder of his poems that were "maybes," and he made a YES folder for mine)

2: During another timed hour, we sat across from each other at the kitchen table discussing each possible YES poem with brutal honesty. Well, it wasn't exactly brutal--maybe steadfast is a better word. 

I was wondering how my ego would take the jettisoning of some of my favorite poems. To my surprise, it wasn't hard to agree when he didn't think a poem fit. Take a seat, ego!

3: We took a walk through the avocado orchards (the AirB&B owners invited guests to pick as much of their fruit as we wanted).

4: We worked, separately evaluating poems for another hour...

5: ...then walked, discovering incredibly delicious, ripe tangerines on trees all around us. Those, too, we were also encouraged to harvest. 

6: We evaluated poems together for another hour.

Then, we had delicious Mexican food in a crowded little diner filled with Spanish-speaking diners. Yum!

 And that was Day 1.


Bruce and moi at the AirB&B,
overlooking hills and neighboring fields


We didn't get a photo of John and Mary Peacock, 
but peacocks were everywhere at the rental:
on pillows, paintings, sculptures, books, and so much more

Here's a sample of how emailing poems back and forth has worked for us over the years (except I've added my name and copyright info for this post)

 THE UBBERY TREE
(GREATLY REVISED AS A RESULT OF YOUR CRITIQUE)
by April Halprin Wayland

I wish I could FaceBook our old avocado.   
She held out her arms for us to climb
when I was nine.

My sister dubbed her The Ubbery Tree;
we knighted my sister our Ubbery Queen—
her crown was green. 

We stepped in the middle of our dappled tree tent,
crunched on brown leaves, sticks and dirt,
we smelled wild earth.

We searched for her fruit, climbed her rough branches,
rode her dragon-grey trunk, holding on tight
in filtered light.

We crushed glossy leaves between our fingers,
then breathed her licorice perfume
in our leafy room.

I wish I could FaceBook our old avocado.
She held out her arms for us to climb
when I was nine.

(c) 2011 April Halprin Wayland, all rights reserved

From: Bruce Balan
To: 'April Halprin Wayland' 
Sent: Wed, May 11, 2011 10:54 pm
Subject: RE: poem for May 11, 2011 REWRITE OF THE UBBERY TREE

I like this better!
More tree, less sister.
A fine avocado tree
You can’t resist her.

Love,
BB

POETRY PROMPT: Remembering A Special Tree

1)
 Close your eyes.  Breathe.  Think back; remember a tree.

2) Jot down as many memories about the tree as you can.  Scribble wildly about the smells, about each sense. 

3) You're looking for real details.  The ants.  The nest.  A dead hatchling under the tree. Fruit-juice dribbling down your chin.

4) If you find a tree that reminds you of your long-ago tree, go to it now.  Lie under it. Look up. Run your fingers along its trunk. Crush and smell its leaves. Climb it.

5) I couldn't go back to my tree, so I went to Pixabay and typed child climbing avocado tree, child climbing tree.  Even though neither photo I chose was an avocado tree, the photos brought back the Ubbery Tree and helped me remember more details.

Image by Mircea Iancu from Pixabay
Image by beauty_of_nature from Pixabay

6) Okay.  So now you have the raw material.  Now what?  I finally decided on three-lined stanzas in which the last two lines rhymed.  In the end, the rhythm of each third line is the same. Try this...or find another poem you love and imitate the structure of that. Enjoy your tree memories!

I'd love to hear what tree you (or your students?) chose to write about!

And speaking of students, UCLA Extension Writers' Program is offering my 3-hour one-day Writing Poetry for Children class on Wednesday, September 24th, noon-3pm PST. I'd love to meet you there in your little zoom square!

In the end, it's the specifics, the details that make a poem.

Thank you, Margaret, for hosting Poetry Friday today at Reflections on the Teche