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A Little Moment:
Jo Jo and I stroll along a windy morning. Casual.
I hold her hand in a gentle way. Light. Her fingers are tampered and delicate and it is easy to feel the bones through the soft skin. I call her hands "artist" hands. They are graceful hands with slim fingers.
The sidewalks are wet and the leaves are slick. We kick along as we go and it's the best part of my day. A walk with Jo before school.
This morning, she is in a pair of pants the kids call "skinny jeans" and they make her long legs longer. Over this she wears a new pink parka that is bright pink, vivid pink, pink on top of pink. There is no pink pinker than this pink jacket. The only break in all the pink is a span of brown gray fluff that lines the hood.
Her face is framed in this fuzz and all that pink.
We stop at the corner and wait for the cars to get through the intersection. Across the street, alone, is a little boy who walks with his head down. His jacket is half on and half off. It slides off one shoulder to show a thin t-shirt. His hair--a light red color--is wet. Jo is skinny but this boy is skinny and small. Slight. He's just bare sliver of a child. Six?
"There's that kid," Jo says."He's all alone."
"I wonder where his brother is?"
"I don't know," Jo says. "You think he had to walk alone today?"
"I hope not."
The crosswalk has been cleared by kids who hold blue and white flags. The crossing guard. Jo and I continue towards the school. The little guy is ahead of us and he walks in a kind of sloppy S. He weaves more than walks.
Over the last year we've watched him, always in the company of a not-much-older brother, forge his way to school without an adult. We always talk about it too: Why are these kids alone? Where are the parents? Why do some kids have to walk alone while others have parents or guardians or someone to help?
No matter how many times I answer her questions, they come up.
"Why is it like that?" Jo asks. "Why do mom's let their kids go it alone?"
I shake my head and shrug my shoulder since I don't have a damn clue.
"Maybe his mom has to work or she's sick in bed."
We cover the distance from the corner to the path that leads to the school and around us there is a funnel of human beings--big, little, short, tall, old, young. The little guy has been absorbed by the crowd and is gone.
"You know I would never let you go it alone, Sweets."
"I know," she says. "You're a good mom."
I stretch my arm long to get over her head and around her shoulder.
"Well, thanks but I'm not perfect."
"No," Jo says. "You're not perfect. But you are good, like all people in the world."
We have a thing in our house called "line of the day," and that is when one of us says something so perfect--each word forming an ideal message that is simple and exact--it must be noted. Line of the day is a writer's past time, a study of language and word choice.
This week, Jo has been on a roll. Her line yesterday was, "don't yell at the teacher, he has powers you don't." And today, this is it. "You're not perfect. But you are good. Like all people in the world."
Instead of taking the handle of the door, I bend down and wrap my girl from the back, pressing my chin into her neck and kissing her ear. The faux fluff around her new jacket is in my face and up my nose. I don't care.
"You just won the line of the day."
~
On my way to Reno--where fires blaze and wind blows and we are stuck in Portland until things get better.
Tonight, a presentation at the Carson Library. Hopefully I'm there at six! Tomorrow, a class on how to write a scene and if you are in Reno, we have room.
And below are new classes for the New Year. Do not miss them. Sign up. Hurry up now.
Six Writers – Six Weeks – A Critique Circle:
This class is for the more advanced writer who is progress on a manuscript or essay length work (articles are acceptable too). You needs to hear yourself read and to get skilled critique. You will be part of a very small group, just six writers and are invited to bring 8-10 pages of your current work per week. You'll read and discuss your work in the circle.
Requirement: You must have taken a class with Jennifer/have an interview to discuss your project.
DATES: Jan. 9-Feb.13 - Tuesday 10:30-12:30 p.m.
Cost: $40.00 per class/$240.00
Memoir Technique Class:
Lists, prompt, write, share. This is a class for the more beginning level student. You are the writer who is just getting going and don't feel as confident as you would like in the craft area of your work. You'll enjoy this relaxed, playful class that gives you more ideas and techniques for dealing with writer's block and memory doubt.
DATES: Jan 3-31 - Wednesday 10:30-12:30 5 week course
Cost: $220.00
Subscriber Classes:
Each week, you get a video prompt with a handout of explanation and writing instruction. Also get a video teaching around a work shopped piece of work that will be discussed in a critique style format with an audience of students. You will receive a PDF of the pages discussed, so you can follow along with the teaching.
1 month: $35.00 (2 classes)
3 month option: $90.00 (9 classes)
6 month option: $153.00 (18 classes)
1 year option: $207.00 (27 classes)
CLICK HERE to read more and sign up!
Jo Jo and I stroll along a windy morning. Casual. I hold her hand in a gentle way. Light. Her fingers are tampered and delicate and it is easy to feel the bones through the soft skin. I call her hands "artist" hands. They are graceful hands with slim fingers.
The sidewalks are wet and the leaves are slick. We kick along as we go and it's the best part of my day. A walk with Jo before school.
This morning, she is in a pair of pants the kids call "skinny jeans" and they make her long legs longer. Over this she wears a new pink parka that is bright pink, vivid pink, pink on top of pink. There is no pink pinker than this pink jacket. The only break in all the pink is a span of brown gray fluff that lines the hood.
Her face is framed in this fuzz and all that pink.
We stop at the corner and wait for the cars to get through the intersection. Across the street, alone, is a little boy who walks with his head down. His jacket is half on and half off. It slides off one shoulder to show a thin t-shirt. His hair--a light red color--is wet. Jo is skinny but this boy is skinny and small. Slight. He's just bare sliver of a child. Six?
"There's that kid," Jo says."He's all alone."
"I wonder where his brother is?"
"I don't know," Jo says. "You think he had to walk alone today?"
"I hope not."
The crosswalk has been cleared by kids who hold blue and white flags. The crossing guard. Jo and I continue towards the school. The little guy is ahead of us and he walks in a kind of sloppy S. He weaves more than walks.
Over the last year we've watched him, always in the company of a not-much-older brother, forge his way to school without an adult. We always talk about it too: Why are these kids alone? Where are the parents? Why do some kids have to walk alone while others have parents or guardians or someone to help?
No matter how many times I answer her questions, they come up.
"Why is it like that?" Jo asks. "Why do mom's let their kids go it alone?"
I shake my head and shrug my shoulder since I don't have a damn clue.
"Maybe his mom has to work or she's sick in bed."
We cover the distance from the corner to the path that leads to the school and around us there is a funnel of human beings--big, little, short, tall, old, young. The little guy has been absorbed by the crowd and is gone.
"You know I would never let you go it alone, Sweets."
"I know," she says. "You're a good mom."
I stretch my arm long to get over her head and around her shoulder.
"Well, thanks but I'm not perfect."
"No," Jo says. "You're not perfect. But you are good, like all people in the world."
We have a thing in our house called "line of the day," and that is when one of us says something so perfect--each word forming an ideal message that is simple and exact--it must be noted. Line of the day is a writer's past time, a study of language and word choice.
This week, Jo has been on a roll. Her line yesterday was, "don't yell at the teacher, he has powers you don't." And today, this is it. "You're not perfect. But you are good. Like all people in the world."
Instead of taking the handle of the door, I bend down and wrap my girl from the back, pressing my chin into her neck and kissing her ear. The faux fluff around her new jacket is in my face and up my nose. I don't care.
"You just won the line of the day."
~
On my way to Reno--where fires blaze and wind blows and we are stuck in Portland until things get better.
Tonight, a presentation at the Carson Library. Hopefully I'm there at six! Tomorrow, a class on how to write a scene and if you are in Reno, we have room.
And below are new classes for the New Year. Do not miss them. Sign up. Hurry up now.
Six Writers – Six Weeks – A Critique Circle:
This class is for the more advanced writer who is progress on a manuscript or essay length work (articles are acceptable too). You needs to hear yourself read and to get skilled critique. You will be part of a very small group, just six writers and are invited to bring 8-10 pages of your current work per week. You'll read and discuss your work in the circle.
Requirement: You must have taken a class with Jennifer/have an interview to discuss your project.
DATES: Jan. 9-Feb.13 - Tuesday 10:30-12:30 p.m.
Cost: $40.00 per class/$240.00
Memoir Technique Class:
Lists, prompt, write, share. This is a class for the more beginning level student. You are the writer who is just getting going and don't feel as confident as you would like in the craft area of your work. You'll enjoy this relaxed, playful class that gives you more ideas and techniques for dealing with writer's block and memory doubt.
DATES: Jan 3-31 - Wednesday 10:30-12:30 5 week course
Cost: $220.00
The Master Class Series:
Create beautiful well crafted writing. Develop your writing muscle in the areas of scene, point of view, arc, plot, dialogue, setting and detail infusion. You will also learn about the skillful navigation of reflective writing and how to explore memory without being confined or limited. While this is a class geared toward the memoir writer, fiction writers are welcome too. There is prompt based teaching, there are handouts and we workshop two writers each week. There are 18 slots to read so you will surely get your pages worked over!
COST: $375.00 ($100.00 deposit to hold your spot)
REQUIREMENTS: Contact Jennifer at jennifer@jenniferlauck.com for waiver, instructions & space availability.
DATES: Sunday's, 3-6:00 p.m. Jan. 8, 5, 22, 29, Feb. 12, 19, 26, Mar. 4 & 11Subscriber Classes:
Each week, you get a video prompt with a handout of explanation and writing instruction. Also get a video teaching around a work shopped piece of work that will be discussed in a critique style format with an audience of students. You will receive a PDF of the pages discussed, so you can follow along with the teaching.
1 month: $35.00 (2 classes)
3 month option: $90.00 (9 classes)
6 month option: $153.00 (18 classes)
1 year option: $207.00 (27 classes)
CLICK HERE to read more and sign up!
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