Time to Swing

A confession that may or may not connect us:

I read my horoscope. Daily.

Actually, read isn’t entirely accurate. I’d say I’d consult. Study. Ponder. Sometimes twice in one day.

I’d call myself a woman of faith, Jewish in particular. I’m open to the mysteries –  even mystical aspects  – of life. I like to think of myself as a rational person with a healthy respect for logic and science. I may be prone to deep emotion but not to flights of fancy or superstition.

Yet, I pour over the writing, multiple writings, of those who study the stars and take them to heart. And every year, I put more stock in them.

Why? Because I have found great wisdom in them. Sparks of truth. I’ve learned that you can’t take the words literally. Best to read them abstractly. Metaphorically. More like poetry. For advice about addressing the day and making good use of it.

It’s been especially true for me this year. According to the sources I consult, things have moved slowly for Gemini these past few months. Though I’ve been really busy in my own sphere, my work hasn’t translated, externally speaking.

That is, until now. Things are picking up for Gemini. I’m doing a little less knocking on doors and feeling like there are more knocks on mine.

Mostly what reading my horoscope does is remind me of the ebb and flow in our personal and professional lives. That there really are up and down times, slow and fast times, right side up and upside down times. Of course we know this. But I need the reminding.

That there are times to hang. And times to swing. And I guess I’m swinging now.

To that end, here’s what’s happening:

I have a new manuscript review service.

I’m offering customized “Writing for Personal Discovery” workshops for small groups in private homes. A great idea for a one-time gathering of friends.

I still love coaching writers on their essay collections and memoirs.

Still reading Thread and Stitch submissions. I’m actively looking for 100-word essays for Stitch.

I’d love to have you on my EBB & Flow subscription list. You’ll get early notifications of all kinds of events and offers.

Chicago-area readers: Mark your calendar for Sunday, September 10th.  That’s when Fall Thread Live Lit Reading at Evanston Public Library from 3 to 5 pm.

Check back in September for the Fall Issue – number eight! – of Thread with six new beautiful essays.

And finally, whether or not you place any importance on the zodiac or the movements of the sun, stars or planets, may the coming weeks, especially Monday, August 21st, eclipse your expectations.

Photo by Jon Blum taken sometime in the 1960s.

What Change Looks Like


It has been an unusually busy fall, enough to keep me from my twice-monthly posting. But I suspect your inbox has been as full of political email these past months as mine, which has made logging in even more overwhelming than usual.

May this message offer you a brief respite from all of that, bringing you literary news and perhaps a twinkle of inspiration.

Since we were last in touch, I’m delighted to share that Thread has:

More important to me than the numbers is what I’m seeing in the variety of submissions. I was determined to publish a diversity of voices across gender, age, perspective and geography. Contributors to Thread, Stitch and the live readings write from as nearby as Chicago to as far away as Switzerland and Spain and their experiences were formed in the United States, Great Britain, South Africa and Hawaii.

I’ve been teaching “Writing for Personal Discovery” workshops in my home since January and thrilled that the work of six students – John Hahm, Ellen Hainen, Marie Davidson, Nina Kavin, Brad Rosen, Michael Rabiger – made it into Thread, Stitch or a live lit reading this year. While it isn’t everyone’s goal to write for publication, I am committed to publishing emerging writers who are seeking just that.

Next winter and spring, I’ll be trying something different by offering shorter-length workshops  – one day and four-week sessions – for busy people who would like to give this personal narrative thing a try. I’m also teaching a morning workshop on Friday, December 16th titled “So That Your Values Live On: Writing Your Ethical Will” at Beth Emet The Free Synagogue. Check the Workshops page of my website for more about my winter and spring workshop schedule.

Finally, I promised to keep you updated on my inhale year. I’ll provide you with a complete report in my next post, but until then, let me say that the experiment in not writing has had some very surprising writerly results.

I leave you with a quote I found in a wonderful book I’m reading called The Artist’s Torah by David Ebenbach. He reminds us that creation is the result of destruction. Change is hard. Scary. Our tendency is to keep what we know, because even our current scary is a known one. But he reminds us that,

As artists we are asked to the truth we see, without and within. It asks us to be willing to grow – to destroy what we’ve been so that we can be something new.

What better example of this than in autumn’s own natural art exhibit?

Could next year be your year to start – or return to, writing?  Private coaching can make this happen. Gift certificates make a very thoughtful – and unique – holiday gift.