Interview with memoirist Sheila Hageman

My special guest today is Sheila Hageman and she’s talking with me about her new book, Stripping Down: A Memoir.

Bio:

Sheila Hageman is a mother of three and author of Stripping Down: A Memoir, a meditation on womanhood and body image, and Beautiful Something Else, a novel.

Please tell us about your current release.

At twelve years old, everything changed for me with the discovery of my father’s porn collection. Found locked away in a corner of the basement, the glossy images ignited in me an unrelenting desire for attention and adoration. I lost sight of my dream of being a writer and became obsessed with exercise, working out every day for hours and barely eating. I became that which I thought men adored—a stripper and a nude model.

Many years later when I discovered my mother had breast cancer, I was faced with who I had become and what I had used my body for. I quit stripping and returned to college to graduate as valedictorian; I also became a yoga teacher through which I learned how to take good care of my body and not be obsessive in my looks. I began writing again and then went to graduate school for my MFA in Creative Writing. At that time, reflections on my past as a stripper permeated my thoughts as I took on the new roles of mother, caregiver and wife. While helping my baby daughter take her first steps, I nursed my mother through the final stages of breast cancer and truly faced who I had become and who I had been. The resulting memoir was Stripping Down. I am living my dream of writing everyday and helping other women to reach their own dream through exploring their lives in words.

What inspired you to write this book?

I always knew I would write about my stripper past because I felt my experiences might help other women to understand their own choices in life. I also felt that for me to come to terms with my past and poor choices I had made, I needed to explore my journey and try to figure out what set me on the particular path I ended up on.

Excerpt from Stripping Down: A Memoir:

UNLOCKING

I feel the weight of the hammer from the dusty workbench in my sweaty palm and hit the padlock. My heart thumps in my bony chest. I listen for the humming sound of my mother’s car backing into the driveway. I hit again. I listen. The lock pops open.

I lift the musty boxes from the top of the chest and set them aside. I pull the lock off, claw my chewed fingernails under the thin lid and push it up.

What was this? Stacks of magazines with women on the covers. I reach my pink fingers out toward the first one. A busty, brunette Mrs. Claus bending over, offers me a shiny wrapped Christmas gift. Her breasts squashed together, lopsided. She is not smiling; she is opening her moist lips. Years later when I would be told “Lick your lips, no, don’t smile,” for a Leg Tease cover photo shoot, I will remember her.

The magazines had various titles. There was Hustler and Penthouse, Playboy and Oui.

In them were women in various states of undress, but not like the images from our educational book upstairs that showed black and white images of males and females standing nude, stoic from babies to senior citizens. Those models were lined up, standing in the same basic pose, completely desexualized. The porn women sucked their fingers, licked their lips, opened their legs, and crouched in unusual positions.

I tasted orange juice in my throat. I couldn’t swallow. Women weren’t supposed to appear like this. Something was not right. My father was straight-laced, ordinary. Didn’t only dirty men look at nudie pictures?

One spread stopped me—a young woman with pigtails wearing denim shorts and a tied gingham shirt. She was on a farm, leaning against a fence. As I flipped through the pages, she lost her clothing, piece by piece, and ended inside a barn lying naked on trampled bales of hay. She looked out at me, called me to enter her world. Her pubic area was completely smooth. In another shot, she straddled a man’s bicycle with the bar just beneath her stripped crotch. This was one of the pictures I went back to and looked at many times as I developed into a woman. She was young like I was. Innocent.

This was right after my parents’ divorce and amid impending puberty. My mother, my older sister, Peggy, and I had moved into my grandparents’ house for three months while my father packed up his stuff, searched for a condo, and moved out. As part of the divorce settlement, my father got almost all the furniture.

A search of the house revealed there was one thing my father didn’t take—a locked green chest in the basement. When I asked my mother, she said it was definitely his. Peggy laughed. I wanted to know what I was missing.

“There’s probably a dead body in there,” I said.

“Or something.” Peggy slammed her bedroom door.

“Photos of monkeys,” my mother said and went to lie down.

What could be such a secret that it had to be locked away? I would run downstairs after school every day, head for the mildewed corner. Whatever was in there was important enough to my father that he kept it locked up, but not important enough to take with him when he left.

I was a girl entering the age of womanhood, entering the real world, the adult world. All at once. No slow entry, rather a flinging open of the doors.

I don’t know what I hoped to accomplish by looking at the magazines. I was a girl—I wasn’t supposed to want to see other women naked. Was I trying to understand who these women were and why they did what they did? Who they were as little girls? Why my father collected them? Why he hid them down in the basement? Did I think about my father looking at them? Did I wonder what my father got out of looking at them? Or was it simply curiosity that drew me to look?

Now, where blankness has been for so long, a specific cover emerges. There is a meat grinder. A woman is being lowered into it, underneath is hamburger meat. I felt sad, awful. I wasn’t stupid. This image was trying to say something, but I didn’t know what.

Today, a quick Internet search reveals: Hustler’s June 1978 cover. I look at it now and feel the same fascination as my twelve-year-old self.

I go to the basement in my mind, and the images come more quickly. Me crouched on the floor with a magazine on my lap. Me seeing women pretending to be furniture. A woman on her hands and knees, a desk that a man stacks paper on. A woman as a chair. A woman as a horse, a bridle in her mouth. I want to see more.

The corner where I squatted was shadowy, dank, as I pushed through the stacks.

The women look like they enjoy it. They looked like they wanted to be treated that way, and I don’t understand. Is it the attention that makes the humiliation worthwhile? Or do the women actually enjoy being photographed nude? My parents raised me to believe that as a girl I am worthwhile and I can be anything I want to be. I am equal to boys in every way. But I never really believed that, and perhaps I didn’t because I suspected that my parents didn’t believe it either. These photos confirm that girls are different. These photos teach me that a woman is prized for being naked, dumb, and subservient. Boys have power over girls. If girls want to be loved they have to make sacrifices of the flesh. And then men will look at them. And then men will love them.

The world I had known no longer existed; I did not fit in anymore. I was stuck somewhere in the middle—no longer a little girl, but not yet a woman like I saw in the photos.

My father left and began again without me, a new life. I would have to learn to leave my old self behind, too—start a new life.

I took a stack of magazines and hid them in my closet. The magazine women, always waiting there for me, brought a sense of safety. They modeled a possible way to know myself, which I hadn’t yet found on my own.

I felt a sense of fear, I could feel the two parts of myself separating, the innocent girl from the bad sexual woman.

I learned from the magazine women. I could showcase my beauty, and then maybe I would be admired. Maybe I would be loved.

What exciting story are you working on next?

I am working on another memoir dealing with body image and eating disorders. I’m also working on fiction. My romance Beautiful Something Else was published in June and I’m now working on something more toward the erotica side of romance.

When did you first consider yourself a writer?

When I was a girl I fully saw myself as a writer. In my late teens, I got distracted by acting and kind of forgot that vision of myself. It wasn’t until I returned to college in my mid-twenties that I began to see myself as a writer again.

Do you write full-time? If so, what's your work day like? If not, what do you do other than write and how do you find time to write?

At the moment, I work at a college full-time as an Academic Mentor; I also adjunct teach at a few colleges. I’m almost to the point where I want to trust myself enough to write full-time, but it’s a scary step for me.

I write in the little moments of time in between my job and taking care of my three kids. It is not easy. I’m usually very tired! I brainstorm new ideas on my daily commute by talking into my mobile phone email app, which transcribes what I say and then I can simply edit later.

What would you say is your interesting writing quirk?

My interesting writing quirk is that when I’m on a roll I can write up to 8,000 words a day. Well, 8,000 was my record, I think. But I can really pump out the words for a rough draft quickly. I’ll go full-out like that for weeks and then just be resting for a few weeks before I start editing.

As a child, what did you want to be when you grew up?

A writer all the way. Also a horse jockey for a little while because that’s what my sister wanted to do.

Anything additional you want to share with the readers?

I encourage everyone to write, even if it’s just for his or her eyes. We can learn so much about ourselves and the world by following where our thoughts lead us on the page.

Links:

Author website | Book website | Twitter | Facebook | Amazon

Thanks for being here today, Sheila!

Interview with memoirist Dorit Sasson

My special interview guest today is Dorit Sasson. She’s chatting with me about her memoir Accidental Soldier: A Memoir of Service and Sacrifice in the Israel Defense Forces.

Bio: 

Dorit Sasson is the founder of the Giving Voice to Your Story website and Giving Voice to Your Courage weekly podcast. Her mission is to support heart-centered business owners and heart-centered authors as they find their brand voices, share their unique stories, gain more visibility, establish themselves as experts, and create authentic marketing messages, all through the use of smart content strategy and engaging copywriting. Giving Voice to Your Story was named one of Top 100 Websites for Writers by The Write Life in 2016.

Dorit inspires others to take risks and work from a courageous heart at various speaking events across the country. Dorit continues to inspire others as a content strategist and copywriter through her blog, guest blogs, and podcast appearances. In addition to business writing,Dorit writes passionately about courage to reinvent herself as a soldier in the Israel Defense Forces and the courage to find passion and meaning from everyday living even if that means leaving your comfort zone. She is a regular contributor to The Huffington Post.

Sasson’s memoir, Accidental Soldier: A Memoir of Service and Sacrifice in the Israel Defense Forces (She Writes Press, 2016), is the story of how she dropped out of college and volunteered for the Israel Defense Forces in an effort to change her life — and how, in stepping out of her comfort zone and into a war zone, she discovered courage and faith she didn’t know she was capable of. Sasson is transparent about sharing her vulnerable journey of combining motherhood, writing, and blogging and promotion over at her website, “Giving Voice to Your Story.”

Welcome, Dori. Please tell us about your current release.

At age nineteen, I was a dual American-Israeli citizen trying to make the status quo work as a college student―until I realized that if I didn’t distance myself from my neurotic, worrywart of a mother, I would become just like her.

Accidental Soldier: A Memoir of Service and Sacrifice in the Israel Defense Forcesis my story of how I dropped out of college and volunteered for the Israel Defense Forces in an effort to change my life―and how, in stepping out of my comfort zone and into a war zone, I discovered courage and faith I didn’t know I was capable of.

What inspired you to write this book?

I’ve always wanted to try my hand on writing a different genre having written academic articles and books for teachers. I wanted to challenge myself to write a memoir having also written creative type stuff.

Having lived in Israel for eighteen years, I wanted to write about an experience that would connect me to the country I felt strongly connected to – Israel.  Although my service happened so many years ago, I was still struggling to find a sense of home in what felt like a new Pittsburgh community. In fact, the opening chapters start in New York City so I was now able to understand why it was important for me to leave my Mom and New York City.

I was inspired by this intertwining of past and present, and wanted to give voice to an experience I took for granted.

There are many sections where I'm trying to navigate both the militaristic and cultural worlds as an American-Israeli trying to fit in.  

Singing Ella Fitzgerald's version of "Summertime" on a dusty base in the middle of the Arava desert in the chapter "Giving Voice" would have to be one of my favorite scenes. As a graduate of vocal music of the FAME school in New York City,  I'm finally able to give a voice to the experience of serving in uniform on a settlement where the "distance" between myself and our commanding officers is rather friendly. All throughout high school, I felt "voiceless" and unworthy. Ironically, as an IDF soldier, I learn to trust the process of finding my voice on an unknown dirty and tiny base in the middle of nowhere.

Excerpt from Accidental Soldier: 

At seven o’clock in the evening two days later, I appear on a bungalow stoop facing an empty desert, wearing a dusty civilian shirt, my hands tucked into the pockets of my army work pants. The sun’s still high above me, and my “audience”—members of my garin and the Israeli-born garin—sit on the grass. Our commanding officers stand behind them.

Silence.

I take a deep breath and introduce each song in Hebrew briefly.

Some of the commanding officers’ hats are pulled down to block out the glare of the sun, so there’s no way of seeing their expressions. Will there be a cringing face, or whispers of disapproval?

I decide to go with the flow: I lift my chest and open my mouth.

I have the entire “stage” to myself. I trill on the high notes without belting. My voice travels. With each note, I feel the distance between my high school self and who I am today becoming smaller. My entire body shakes with nervous excitement and anticipatory anxiety.

As I get deeper into “Summertime,” I try to avoid focusing on the garin and their expressions. This hot desert is the perfect setting for the song. I try my best to execute Ella’s flawless, melismatic style, letting thoughts of her rich voice carry me like warm honey. Each time I end a cadence, I control and deepen my voice just like she does in the recording I know so well.

As I near the end of the song, my heart beats fast.

What’s this? There’s clapping. They liked it! Even as I run to sit on the grass, avoiding people’s eyes, the clapping is still going. I squeeze in between two of the Israeli garin members on the ground. Someone reaches from behind and squeezes my hand.

The next day, Michal, Hiyah, and Miki from the Israeli garin, and even a second officer named Debbie, approach me at breakfast.

“Wow, Dorit, you sang great. We didn’t know you could sing like that.”

I smile widely. I didn’t know I could sing like that, either.

It occurs to me: I’m not just a soldier anymore. I’m someone with a voice.

What exciting story are you working on next?

My plan is to work on the next memoir of the series. I don’t want to reveal too many details, but it’s about leaving Israel as a returning American and readjusting to the American lifestyle having been gone so many years.

When did you first consider yourself a writer?

I didn’t start writing professionally until I came back to the States. It took many years to get to this point having endured lots of rejections, doubts and fears, and yes, plenty of red marks on my papers in college suggesting that perhaps, I wasn’t a good enough writer.

Do you write full-time? If so, what's your work day like? If not, what do you do other than write and how do you find time to write?

I teach part time. I try to spend about an hour each day for book marketing and promotion. I also have writing and coaching clients. The challenge is to also find time to write! So far, what works for me is waking up early before everyone else to write – otherwise I don’t get it done.

What would you say is your interesting writing quirk?

Writing quirk? Hmm…I don’t know if this qualifies as a quirk, but I need to have affirmations and candles around me to empower me. I also tend to write longhand before transferring the words to the computer.

As a child, what did you want to be when you grew up?

My mother was a classical pianist of note, so I always thought I’d be a classical singer having studied at the famous Fame school, which is now LaGuardia High School of Music and the Arts in New York City.

Anything additional you want to share with the readers?

I am a Shark Tank junkie. I read and devour anything written by Jhumpa Lahiri or Elizabeth Gilbert. I am desperately trying to limit the time I spend on Facebook and Twitter. Unless you have a strong strategy, they are complete time suckers, but …

Links:

Website | Amazon | Facebook | Twitter | Pinterest 

Thank you, Dorit!

Interview with memoirist Sandra Hurtes

I’m happy to introduce you to memoirist Sandra Hurtes today.

She’s doing a virtual book tour with Goddess Fish Promotions for her book, The Ambivalent Memoirist.

During her tour, Sandra will be awarding a copy of her book in the winner's choice of either print (US only) or digital to a randomly drawn winner. To be entered for a chance to win, use the form below. To increase your chances of winning, feel free to visit her other tour stops and enter there too.

Bio:

Sandra Hurtes is the author of the essay collection On My Way to Someplace Else and the memoir The Ambivalent Memoirist. Her articles and essays have appeared in The New York Times, The Washington Post, Poets & Writers, The Writer and numerous other publications. Her personal essay “The People We Love and Create” received an American Jewish Press Award. She is an adjunct assistant professor at John Jay College.

Welcome, Sandra. Please tell us about your current release.
My book chronicles my midlife journey to find purpose and meaning. After my parents, who were Holocaust survivors, pass away, everything inside me shifts. As a single woman with no children, my responsibility is solely toward enhancing my own life. This is both freeing and startling. I tentatively move through the world by leaving Brooklyn—the place I’d lived all my life. I set up my new home in Manhattan, only to wonder, where next? Where is my happiness?

Through my life as a teacher, writer and yogi, I seek answers as to how to continue to move forward.

What inspired you to write this book?
I was born into a family with a complex and brutal history. My mother raised me on stories of her pre-war life and on some of the horrors of Auschwitz. Most children of survivors had the opposite experience—their parents never spoke of the war. My mother often did; and so one day I took my place as storyteller to make sense of all she’d told me.

Excerpt from The Ambivalent Memoirist:

           My mother’s warm breath seems to tickle my ear; the scents of her Dentyne and dime-store lipstick rise up my nostrils.

           “You’ll zug gurnish, mámala, tell no one, you hear?”

           The years go by like a train speeding through stations. 1957. ‘56. ‘55. We’re seated on the wide bulky chair in the apartment on Union Street.

           “When Hitler came to our village, he sent us on a train to Auschwitz,” my mother said, only she sounded like this: trrrain to Ausch-vitz.

           “There were two lines formed. One for death, one for labor. I was on the selection line with my sisters Surika and Sharika. They were so skinny, like little sticks, like nothings. And I was plump. What would the Germans need my sisters for? They couldn’t work, they couldn’t lift heavy machinery.

           A few feet away from us is my parakeet, Pokey. Unwitting witness to the unfolding of my mother’s life, his yellow-gold beak twitching forward and back.

           “You know what would become of them? Death.”

           A square dirt yard, the circumference of a schoolyard, a row of women dressed in rags, barefoot, hairless. Another row of fleshy women, their bodies bulging with life.

           “The SS looked up and down the lines, knowing that the skinny ones with their ribs protruding were useless. But the SS didn’t know who they were dealing with. You understand, mámala?”

           My mother has ways of getting through the worst circumstances.

           “My mother didn’t give birth to a nar, a fool. Surika’s name was called. She was so skinny I knew what would happen to her. I pulled her back and stepped off the selection line in her place. One look at me, with my fat cheeks, and he shouted ‘Labor!’ I pushed Suri in the direction of the labor line.

           “Then he called out for Sharika. Again, I stepped forward before he could send her to death. ‘Labor!’ he said, barely lifting his head. I pushed her to stand with Suri.

           “What did he know? With a quick look, all of us with no hair, we looked the same. Then he called me.

           “‘Rifka!’

           “I came forward. I stood as still as I could, although I was shivering in the cold. This time he looked at me from my filthy bare feet to my face.

           “My sisters were huddled together watching. Then when he was good and ready, he gave his order. ‘Labor!’

           “If not for me, Símala, my sisters would be dead.”

           My mother’s head on my shoulder. I tap her on the back the way she taught me. Soft touches as her mother did for her.

           Tap tap tap.

           “Símala scheina, you are my reason.”

What exciting story are you working on next?
I recently heard someone tell a story that began: “To make a long story short…” I loved that opening. And so while my students were doing an in-class writing, I began, “Long story short, I didn’t kill my husband.” My protagonist is in jail, waiting for her court-appointed lawyer and remembering when her marriage began to fall apart. I don’t have a plot outline or know who the murderer is. I’m just writing and will see where the story takes me.

When did you first consider yourself a writer?

I was a model student as a child; I wrote short stories for extra credit. I loved to write, but thought of writing in the way I thought of other things I enjoyed like drawing and playing with friends. In my mid-twenties I went through a divorce. I was in a lot of pain and wrote poetry to alleviate my feelings. I began to feel I had an affinity for writing. I wrote only for myself through my thirties. That was because I didn’t have the confidence to call myself a writer. In my early forties, I became driven to publish my work. That meant working much harder—revising, getting critiqued, researching the markets. I loved every second, every task, even going to the post office to buy stamps for manuscripts I mailed. A voice inside kept saying, I love this! That’s when I knew.

Do you write full-time? If so, what's your work day like? If not, what do you do other than write and how do you find time to write?

Writing full-time was a dream, but never a reality. When I was in love with writing, I wanted more than anything for that to be my day job. I looked for a corporate job as a staff writer, but couldn’t find one. I freelanced quite a bit, but never enough to earn a living. I write and research slowly and am not a good marketer. I have the writing skill and talent, but am terrible at sales.

I went back to school several years ago to get my MFA in non-fiction. My goal was to be able to teach college. That’s what I do now. I’m an adjunct at two and sometimes three colleges, teaching Composition. Sometimes I get an Intro to Fiction class, which is my favorite.

In terms of finding time to write—by 4:30 a.m. I’m at the computer. It’s my favorite time to write or simply have my coffee and think about life and the world. My mind is like putty then. I don’t think about form at all; I just put sentences on the page. But when I’m into a writing project, finding time is easy; I write between classes, on the subway, while waiting for a bus, anywhere. I don’t need to coax myself to the page.

What would you say is your interesting writing quirk?

I write best when surrounded by noise. I know that contradicts my early a.m. writing; both have their place. But I’m most productive when in the midst of activity, like at a noisy cafe. I tune it out and completely focus.

As a child, what did you want to be when you grew up?
I was asked to act out this answer when I took an acting class many years ago. Without thought, I crossed my arms and rocked them, as if a baby lay atop. I was raised to be a traditional Jewish housewife—not Orthodox—but traditional in the sense of the 1950s role for women. My parents didn’t realize that might be limiting; that was what they knew, as they’d lived impoverished lives in Czechoslovakia. They had little education there, and didn’t study English in America.

As it turned out, I divorced young and don’t have children. Much of my life’s journey has been filling in the gaps in my younger self’s goals. I went to college, discovered I was smart enough to have a career (and wanted one), figured out what I could do in this world.

Anything additional you want to share with the readers?

I have many creative outlets. I used to have a hand-knit sweater business and knit all the time: on the subway, at the movies (yes, in the dark), while waiting for an appointment, and in bed, promising myself “just more row.” By 3:00 a.m. I finally went to sleep

I then taught myself how to make hats and bows. I became as wrapped up in it as I had with knitting. I love color and texture. I sold a few pieces; simultaneously, my writing life took off. I had to focus and so I went one-hundred percent into writing. Now, twenty years later, I’m taking watercolor painting classes.

Creativity and expression are most important to me, regardless of the mode.

Website | Blog

Thanks, Sandra!

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Interview with memoirist David W. Berner

Today's special guest is David W.Berner. He's sharing a bit about his new non-fiction book, Any Road Will Take You There: A Journey of Fathers and Sons.

As part of his virtual book tour with WOW's The Muffin, David will be awarding a lucky commenter with an e-copy of this book. To be entered for a chance to win, leave a comment below. 

Bio:

David W. Berner is an award-winning journalist, broadcaster, author, and professor at Columbia College Chicago

His first book, Accidental Lessons was awarded the 2011 Royal Dragonfly Grand Prize for Literature. His second memoir, Any Road Will Take You There won the 2013 Book of the Year Award from the Chicago Writer’s Association for nontraditional nonfiction, and has been re-released by Dream of Things Book Publishing. His collection of essays – There’s a Hamster in the Dashboard – will be released by Dream of Things in early 2015.

You also may have heard his voice regularly on the radio. He’s a reporter and anchor or CBS radio and has produced a number of audio documentaries for public radio.

He lives outside Chicago, but grew up in the Pittsburgh area and is a life-long Steelers fan.

Please tell us about your current release.

Any Road Will Take You There is a personal story based on a cross-country road trip. And I am proud and honored that the book was the Recipient of a Book of the Year Award from the Chicago Writers Association. Reviewers called it “honest, unflinching, and tender.” 

I believe it is written in the tradition of the Great American Memoir. As a middle-age father, I decide to embark on a five-thousand-mile road trip – the one he always wished I had taken as a young man. Recently divorced and uncertain of the future, I reread the iconic road story – Jack Kerouac's On the Road – and along with my two sons and my best friend, I head out for the highway to rekindle a spirit I sensed I was missing.

But there is also a family secret that turns the cross-country journey into an unexpected examination of my role as a father, and it compels me to look to the past and the fathers who came before me in hopes of finding contentment and clarity.

The book is essentially the story of the generational struggles and triumphs of being a dad, and the beautiful but imperfect ties that connect all of us.

What inspired you to write this book?

I can’t say that I was necessarily inspired to write the book. I was compelled. In the first part of Any Road Will Take You There I lay out a story of a family photograph, long hidden. It’s of four generations of men: my great grandfather, my grandfather, my father, and me when I was a young boy. But it was never displayed in my home because it held the secrets of the scars of the men in that snapshot. This is what got me thinking about fatherhood and my own role as a dad. The road trip turned into a deep reflection about my relationship with my father and the ones I was forming with my sons.

The father-son relationship is so intensely complicated and layered. There’s nothing like it. Men carry the DNA of all the fathers who came before them, the good and bad stuff, and we struggle trying to decide what to keep and what to throw away. And because of the long tradition of fathers who stood at a distance from their sons, believing it was the right thing to do or because they didn’t know any differently, the modern father stumbles attempting to figure out what his role is supposed to be. There are all those echoes from the past, all those long shadows. I wanted to explore this, not only because it was important to me but also because I believe it resonates with every single man.

What exciting story are you working on next?

I have a collection of essays about pets that Dream of Things Publishing will release next year, 2015. These are stories about the intricate connections between man and beast, focusing on how our pets really reflect on who we are. I think the human connection with animals is incredibly deep and interesting. It’s entitled There’s a Hamster in the Dashboard.

I also have a novel I’m shopping. It’s about a young man in the 1970s who dreams of being the next rock-n-roll radio star. But a mistake in his college years throws off his plan and he has to wrestle with his own demons. He decides to confront them in a special New Year’s Eve broadcast that ultimately changes his life path forever.

And I’m also banging around an idea. It’s another personal story. I recently took a road trip to Virginia after I was unexpectedly chosen as a finalist in a songwriting competition. It was an unbelievable trip, great venue with great musicians, and it evoked a lot of thoughts on aging and how our dreams when we are young are realized or not. I wanted to be a rock star, a folk singer, and play music on stage when I was in my teens and early 20s. But I never really thought that could truly happen. Well it did–when I was 57! I think the subject of young dreams and old dreams are fascinating. I’m still sorting out my thoughts on this. But, I will be ready to write soon.

When did you first consider yourself a writer?

I wrote a short book in my second grade class called The Cyclops. It was maybe five pages long. I was so proud of that book. Still have it in a storage box somewhere. It was the story of a deep-sea monster and the men who tried to capture it. The idea must have come out of all those Jacque Cousteau specials on TV back in the 1960s.

But I knew I was a professional writer when I began to get paid for writing journalism, print and broadcast, back in the late 1970s. My first writing job was in radio. I was a news reporter and had to write each day on deadline. It made focus on telling a story succinctly. It also helped me be a good editor. That’s probably why I love the rewriting or drafting process.

Do you write full-time? If so, what's your work day like? If not, what do you do other than write and how do you find time to write?

I have a lot of jobs. I teach college, I work in broadcasting, and I’m a freelance journalist. But I really work hard at finding time to write. Sometimes it’s just notes or thoughts jotted down in a Moleskine journal. Sometimes it’s a formal sit-down to write. You have to consider writing like a job. Find a time that can be all yours and do the work.

What would you say is your interesting writing quirk?

I don’t know if it’s a quirk. But I have to move around. I like writing at home, but then I have to change venues and go down the street to the coffee shop and write there awhile. Then I might sit on my porch and write there. The changing scenery, sounds, and people sort of re-boot my thinking. Oh, and I must have coffee, lots of coffee.

As a child, what did you want to be when you grew up?

I wanted to be an oceanographer. I loved the Jacques Cousteau documentaries on television in the 1960s. All those deep-sea adventures were fascinating. Still are. Then in my teens when music became such a bit part of my life, I wanted to be one of those voices on the radio playing all that great music. I didn’t end up being a disc jockey, but I certainly got on the radio. There was also that dream of being a rock star.

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Thanks, David!

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