“These are words I’ve lived and written by; they have allowed me to find meaning and purpose in every age, stage, experience adventure and misadventure in life. Here, I do it again, focusing on our lives, mine and yours, as writers. I give some advice; I tell some stories.
"Thanks for the title, Maurice.”
THERE IS NOTHING MORE SOLITARY THAN THE ACT OF WRITING. YET, NO WORK MAKES IT TO PUBLICATION IN SOLITUDE. MY LATE MOTHER’S LAST BIRTHDAY BROUGHT THIS HOME TO ME. THRIVING IN THIS SOLITARY PROFESSION TURNS OUT TO REQUIRE AN ECOSYSTEM. HERE’S HOW TO GROW YOURS. We celebrated my mother’s 97th birthday, her next-to-last, in 2012, on the front porch of… Read More
“IT MUST BE IN YOUR DNA,” PEOPLE SOMETIMES TELL ME, ON LEARNING THAT I AM THE DAUGHTER OF WRITERS. BECAUSE THIS OVERLOOKS THE SOLITARY, INDIVIDUAL WORK I PUT INTO WHAT I DO, IT USED TO BUG ME. YET HAVING A RELATIONSHIP THAT WAS AS COLLEGIAL AS IT WAS FAMILIAL WITH MY FATHER, INFLUENCED ME. HOWEVER, ANY KIND OF FATHER INFLUENCES… Read More
MOTHER’S DAY, IN ITS INSISTENCE ON SENTIMENT, BIOLOGY, AND CONSUMERISM, HAS ALWAYS DIMINISHED MOTHERING. FOR MOTHERING HAS ALWAYS BEEN MUCH BIGGER THAN MOTHERHOOD. AND IT TRANSCENDS REPRODUCTION. EVEN GENDER. Being a mother, and having a mother, even when it works beautifully, even in times of general robust public health and political stability, is never as simple as a mug saying… Read More
HOW DO WE BECOME LOVABLE, AS IN, ABLE TO GIVE AND RECEIVE LOVE? SOMETIMES, WE LEARN FROM CATS. OR A CAT, PARTICULARLY BELOVED. IN MY CASE, THAT WAS BEANBLOSSOM. The other morning, I was making breakfast. I cracked two eggs for an omelette, into a small stainless steel bowl. Beating them with a fork, hearing that distinctive musical rhythmic metal-on-metal clang,… Read More
MOTHER’S DAY, IN ITS INSISTENCE ON SENTIMENT, BIOLOGY, AND CONSUMERISM, HAS ALWAYS DIMINISHED MOTHERING. AND IT’S ALWAYS BEEN CRUEL TO MANY AND REDUCTIVE TO ALL. THIS YEAR, CORONAVIRUS OFFERS US (IRONICALLY) A CHANCE TO DO BETTER. DEPENDING ON THE TENOR OF THE RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN YOU AND YOUR MOTHER, “SOCIAL DISTANCING” WILL REQUIRE AT THE LEAST A CHANGE OF PLANS. BUT… Read More
IN SICKNESS AND IN HEALTH. TIL DEATH DO YOU PART. THESE WORDS, ALWAYS SOLEMN, ARE VERY DIFFERENT DEPENDING ON WHEN YOU UTTER THEM TO YOUR PARTNER: IN YOUTH, WHEN YOU ARE UN- OR LESS-TRIED? OR LATER, PERHAPS MUCH LATER, AFTER LIFE HAS BEATEN YOU UP A FEW TIMES? THIS IS MY HEARTFELT VALENTINE TO LATE-LIFE LOVE. I wrote the story… Read More
I NEVER BELIEVED IN SANTA CLAUS. NOT EVEN AS A KID, FOR REASONS I’LL MAKE CLEAR. BUT THE JURY IS STILL OUT ON ANGELS. If you want an inspirational, heartwarming story about Christmas, look elsewhere. I grew up the child of adamantly non-practicing Jews, in Hastings-on-Hudson, New York, then predominantly Irish-, Polish-, and Italian-Catholic. My mother, Charlotte Zolotow, used to… Read More
CREATIVITY — LIKE LIFE — HAS ITS SEASONS. FALL WOULD LIKE TO CALL YOUR ATTENTION TO THIS. FALL WOULD LIKE TO SHOW YOU SEVERAL FAIL-PROOF WAYS TO USE ITS ENERGY TO REBOOT YOURS. Feeling blocked, stuck, stagnant? Creatively or otherwise? Fall has a cure. Every seasonal shift reminds us that time is moving on, and diems are there to be… Read More
“CLOUDS IN MY COFFEE.” I’M SURE I DIDN’T HAVE TO SAY ANY MORE THAN THAT TO FIND YOU SINGING CARLY SIMON’S, “YOU’RE SO VAIN.” THE STORY OF HOW THAT SONG GOT WRITTEN IS HOW EVERYTHING GETS WRITTEN. Remember “You’re So Vain” by Carly Simon? There’s an apocryphal story about it. Decades ago Simon was flying across country to New York… Read More
WRITING TAUGHT ME ABOUT WHAT IT TAKES TO WORK OUT. WORKING OUT TAUGHT ME ABOUT WHAT IT TAKES TO WRITE. AND IT TURNS OUT YOU WRITE, OR WORK OUT, IN YOUR MID-SIXTIES, EXACTLY THE SAME WAY YOU ALWAYS DID. AND YOU HAVE TO KEEP LEARNING THIS. THIS TIME AROUND, A FUNKY SHOULDER, A VERY OLD CAT, AMY TAM, AND A… Read More
SOMETIMES YOU THINK YOU KNOW WHAT’S GOING TO HAPPEN. YOU’RE USUALLY WRONG. AND THAT’S PROBABLY NOT A BAD THING. I used to teach in a program called Artists-in-Schools, as did my longtime friend, musician Bill Haymes. I’d come into schools, a visiting writer helping students (sometimes very young, sometimes teenagers) write. Bill did the same, but with music and song-writing…. Read More
A PERSON HAS A LIFE, WITH A DEFINITE AND IRREFUTABLE BEGINNING, MIDDLE, AND END. BUT, WITH A BOOK IT’S NOT SO CLEAR. I spent a recent Sunday, improbably, working on an introduction to the forthcoming Chinese edition of a children’s book entitled Sleepy Book. Written in 1956 or ’57 and published in 1958, its author is Charlotte Zolotow, my late… Read More
“My late father, Maurice Zolotow, was a Hollywood biographer, a professional freelance writer and passionate reader. Whenever I went through hard times, personally or professionally, Maurice could be counted on to tell me two things. The first was advice: ‘Write your way out of it!’ he’d bark, directively. But then, more thoughtfully, he’d say, ‘It’s all material, Cres. Nothing is wasted on the writer.’
