essay

The Beauty in Wondering

By Ellen Blum Barish
Posted on

 

Allen Ginsberg wrote, “Catch yourself thinking.”

Though it’s likely he was referring to poetry, these words get to the heart of the essay.

Writing the essay is seeing the beauty in the wondering and, of course, making the effort to capture it like when snap a photo in a moving car on a winding Colorado road.

Like in this essay by John Jeremiah Sullivan. On the surface it’s about a trip he took to Disney World with his wife, daughter and another family. But what we also get a trip into his thoughts.

You can read his essay “You Blow My Mind. Hey Mickey! here.

 

 

Motherhood and the Writing Life: A Case Study of My Own

By Ellen Blum Barish
Posted on

I knew I was a writerly mama. But now, it’s official: I’m a Literary Mama!

I’m absolutely thrilled to direct you from here to my essay Exposed, an essay about the moment the tables turn on a writer who writes about family and

learns what it feels like to be on the receiving end of the words. It was published in Literary Mama on November 3, 2012.

Excerpt:

In the days leading up to talent night at my daughter’s middle school, Emily would only share that she had a short moment on stage. She had been keeping more of her personal and school life to herself; signs of teenagerhood even before reaching her teens. Since she spent most of her after-school hours in theatre workshops, my husband and I expected that she had a small part in a scene from a musical or one-act play and wanted to surprise us.

But when I took my seat in the cafeteria-turned-auditorium, I scanned the handwritten program and saw that the third act, titled, “The Birthday,” was a skit in which she would not only be acting, but had also written. As the lights went out, my stomach began to knot.

Check it out here:

http://www.literarymama.com/litreflections/essays/archives/2012/11/exposed-2.html


In the days leading up to talent night at my daughter’s middle school, Emily would only share that she had a short moment on stage. She had been keeping more of her personal and school life to herself; signs of teenagerhood even before reaching her teens. Since she spent most of her after-school hours in theatre workshops, my husband and I expected that she had a small part in a scene from a musical or one-act play and wanted to surprise us.
But when I took my seat in the cafeteria-turned-auditorium, I scanned the handwritten program and saw that the third act, titled, “The Birthday,” was a skit in which she would not only be acting, but had also written. As the lights went out, my stomach began to knot.