by marionroach on August 2, 2010
THERE WAS A time when our dogs divided us. It happens in neighborhoods, and it did, in ours. Each of us lived behind our own invisible electric fence, keeping our dogs in our own territories, allowing for no mixing of our pedigreed charges. The humans walked, we waved, but we knew little of one another’s lives, except, perhaps, that it was the woman in each home who walked the dog. That much was clear. And for a while that’s how it was: Not much contact, little to say, we walked our dogs along the perimeter of each other’s lives. [click to continue…]
by marionroach on July 27, 2010
THE SUMMER SLUMP. This is a tough time for writers–that time of year when the most seductive set of temptations to not write beckon: the great outdoors and all its wonders. I mean, who can write in this weather? Who can write when you could instead: swim/sail/run/play tennis/golf/hike, whatever? You can. That is, if you’ll willing to do a simple things. Are you? Then come along. [click to continue…]
by marionroach on May 26, 2010
JUMP RIGHT IN and enter to win a free, signed copy of my new book, Writing What You Know: Realia. All you have to do be in the contest is leave a short piece of memoir at my on-line writing group at Beliefnet.com, where May is Memoir Month. It’s that simple. I’ll see you there.
by marionroach on May 19, 2010
USE THE CALENDAR. I’ve covered this topic before, but guess what? Since I love you like a sister, I have made a calendar for you to use. Oh yeah: interactive, digital, online, and with all kinds of quirky (Quirky? Me?) dates for you to use to get those fingers typing up your personal essays. Now you’ve got no reason not to come along and use it. Here’s how. [click to continue…]
by marionroach on May 1, 2010
by marionroach on April 16, 2010
ONCE UPON A TIME there was no sisterhood. This is back when we were new to a school, or grade, the new kid in a neighborhood or a Brownie troop, back when no one seemed to like us. And then one day some kid passed us a pencil, or laughed at our joke, or slipped us a note. And soon there really was an “us,” and nothing seemed more important, or special, or forever. [click to continue…]
by marionroach on April 7, 2010
ICALL IT “OUR GREAT EXPERIMENT.” My big sister Margaret calls it “Why not, and can-do.” It’s the release today (on the occasion of my “29th” birthday) of my fourth book by none other than big sister-turned-publisher. I think that’s the most unusual gift Margaret ever got me. Both of us Roach sisters also think it’s a must-have for anyone doing any memoir-style writing–whether in print or on a blog–which is what I’ve been teaching to sold-out classes for 13 years. Margaret says my writing tips helped her finish her own memoir, due out next February, which is how she got the idea to publish them. Get the details (and the book). What a birthday this is turning out to be!
by marionroach on February 19, 2010
OUR BRAS. IN TRANSLATION. Is it just us, or do they look bigger in French?
by marionroach on February 17, 2010
I LIVE ON A GRID. I call it The Grid. It’s a character in our lives to some extent, and everyone who knows it makes fun of it, and I’m good with that. Printed on a large white board, written in erasable dry marker, The Grid sits on my desk, in full view as I write, mapping out the seven days of my week and how I live them. On it is written even the incidentals—“walk the dog,” “stretch,”—as well as the truly important chunks of my life, like “write,” “meet the bus,” and “gym.” [click to continue…]
by marionroach on February 10, 2010
WHERE I COME FROM, the word “salad” means lettuce. Perhaps that lettuce will be accompanied by onions, tomatoes, peppers, cucumbers, crumbled cheese, or all of the above, but lettuce—and I believe I speak for all my homepeople when I say this—would be the foundation of all things “salad.” And, being a New Yorker, I went along thinking my way was the highway until fate stepped in and threw a man in my path some 21 years ago who, when he said “salad,” was speaking a different tongue. So we got married, and mixed things up. [click to continue…]
THERE WAS A time when our dogs divided us. It happens in neighborhoods, and it did, in ours. Each of us lived behind our own invisible electric fence, keeping our dogs in our own territories, allowing for no mixing of our pedigreed charges. The humans walked, we waved, but we knew little of one another’s lives, except, perhaps, that it was the woman in each home who walked the dog. That much was clear. And for a while that’s how it was: Not much contact, little to say, we walked our dogs along the perimeter of each other’s lives. [click to continue…]
First time here? Here's the idea: 