Hard To Get, Hard To Keep.
That’s all of us when we try to lose weight or sleep more or exercise. We don’t like to keep at it. I should know.
I left my University.
Okay, I retired from it.
I retired from my University.
I don’t like to use the term “retire” because it sounds like what old people do. It sounds like I’m going to lie down now, stop working, be calm.
But, in truth, I don’t know how to not work. Don’t feel sorry for me or send me messages from Buddha. I like working. It makes me happy.
In almost thirty years of teaching health, I find that I still want to talk about health stuff. You’d think I would be sick to death of trying to help people feel better. But, I’m a stubborn little know-it-all and I can’t stop myself.
So here goes. read more…
Last night I had a party in my bed.
No, this is not another essay about my dating life. This is a public service announcement that might revitalize the Just Say No campaign of the Nineties and is a good example of my non-perfect life. If you ever thought that I had a perfect life. Which I don’t.
This little story is for everyone who does things they are embarrassed about but don’t feel like they can tell anyone. This is for people who are occasionally haphazard and need an assistant to get from Point A to Point B. And the Point B I’m talking about here is Bed.
This is for you. Read it and your self-esteem will soar when you compare your life to mine.
Let’s back up.
It was my daughter’s graduation from college weekend. I was feeling an appropriate amount of emotion. A little sad, a lot proud, the usual amount of tired. I’d gotten through the orchestra playing the graduation march without sobbing, the humorless speaker without sneering, the conferring of degrees without falling asleep.
After the celebration dinner, I managed to brush my teeth and I thought, take my very unsexy progesterone pill (can you feel the tension building?).
I put my head on the pillow and fell into a deep slumber-and at 2 a.m., the trumpets of my central nervous system blared, “Get the F up Ann! You have a world to run right now!”
I sat up. read more…
Lift Don’t Suppress Others.
Thirty-five Years After How to Suppress Women’s Writing
In 1983, the University of Texas Press published Joanna Russ’s landmark “How to Suppress Women’s Writing”, which enumerated and elaborated on the many ways women writers had been kept out of the canon. Almost forty years later, it remains distressingly true that, as Russ wrote, “If certain people are not supposed to have the ability to produce ‘great’ literature, and if this supposition is one of the means used to keep such people in their place, the ideal situation… is one in which such people
Although Joanna Russ’s “How to Suppress Women’s Writing,” is out of print, the ideas that animate it remain relevant: women writers are still praised for intuition instead of effort, scorned for writing about the “personal” as opposed to the public. Moreover, as the VIDA count proves, year in and year out, women’s writing is rarely showered with the critical attention nor the awards that men’s writing receives. This generation of women writers seeks to remediate the status quo for the benefit of the other.
Shirley Jackson was a literary superstar of the 1940s, 50s and 60s. Her work won the O’Henry award and was shortlisted for the National Book award. She’s best known for “The Lottery,” which is one of the most famous stories in American literature.
Can I Pick Your Brain? The Fine Line Between Giving Back and Getting Paid
The right connections in publishing can jumpstart your career and make the journey more enjoyable. But there is a fine line when asking for a favor (or a freebie) and networking. This panel looks at how emerging writers can gracefully navigate the art of “the ask” and how established authors can balance their time and effort and meaningful connections. Five publishing insiders share secrets of effective networking without looking self-interested—and when to say no without looking unsupportive.
Every writer, regardless of experience or genre, must network; relationships can make the difference between a so-so and a successful career. In today’s digital world, connecting with others has never been easier—but connectivity has increased opportunities to make gaffes. This panel, comprised of a geographically, ethnically, and professionally diverse group of publishing pros who network in a variety of equally successful ways, gives writers tools to connect in an authentic and effective way.
We are often on the receiving end of requests for help or information. Each week our inboxes swell with messages from former coworkers, friends of friends and people I’ve met at networking events who want advice about writing for a living. As you might suspect, we’ve found there are a right way and a wrong way to tap an acquaintance for professional suggestions.
All of here on this panel have asked for help and given it. There are times I’m sure when we have done it gracefully and other times when, in a panic related to deadlines, or anxiety, or desperation we asked for too much in the wrong way or were unable to help others because of time and energy constraints.
Do’s for asking for help: read more…
Cake Without the Calories
There is a man outside my house shoveling my sidewalk. I can hear him chopping and scraping against the inches of slush and ice that has collected on my concrete path and driveway. It’s a miserable job; unending and one that Sisyphus himself could totally get into. Push the slush, watch it slosh back. Repeat a thousand times. He’s doing it without my asking him to. I don’t even know his last name.
It’s been a winter of multiple snow storms, freezing rain, regular old wet rain, and wind. I want to go outside and help the man. I want to rush out and thank him. I want to bake him the crustiest loaf of warm bread and deliver it to his family with the best butter Wisconsin makes, but I’m crying. I’m sobbing really.
This is what kindness does for me. Kindness unravels me.
I’m a tough nut otherwise. I can manage death without tears, pain makes me rage and then throw up, and watching videos of people falling on the ice doubles me over with unsympathetic hilarity.
But kindness.* Oh my God, kindness. read more…
Sexting And Other Accidents
I’m single again.*
Actually, it’s been over a year since my last relationship and my friends have made it clear that it’s time to pair up and shut up. Apparently, my tirades during the Bachelor about the show’s irresponsible perpetuation of the myth of true love are wearing as thin as the dignity of every single person on the show, including the key grip.
To be supportive of my search for a partner, one of my best friends went so far as to suggest how much fun it would be to go through profiles with me on Match.com. I scoffed. Match.com is for oldies, not for cool-ass me. Sure, I’m an oldie—but as a college professor, I spend my days with college students; ergo, I’m practically a college student myself.
I decided that if I was going to try online dating for the first time, I should try a dating site more commensurate with my associated college-age coolness. I knew Tinder, the notorious hook-up site, was too hot for me to handle—I couldn’t even say “hook-up” without a flash-mustache-sweat. If I’m honest, I was hoping to wave at “matches” from across the street and leave my hooks at home in, say, the dishwasher.
But, I overheard my students talking about Bumble, the e-dating site that, in heterosexual matches, the female gets to make the first contact. I sidled up to a cluster of my university students and learned that the swiping right and left that indicated interest or lack there-of was both low-commitment and so very, e-asy.
It was decided. I had a smartphone and was ready to swipe my way to a new relationship on that sunny yellow Bumble site that let women make the first move. (Air horn!)
8 PM: I joined Bumble, set up my profile and began shopping for a man as I would a pair of shoes. It felt strange. I had a vague strategy. I would steer clear of the super-hot dudes posed on sailboats, shirtless, Ray Bans covering their sure-to-reject-me-eyes. I would also swipe left on the men who looked like Dumbledore and would only swipe right on the perfectly age appropriate, acceptable looking man who hit solidly between Playboy and Terrorist.
Ann Garvin’s 2019 Appearances
It’s official I need a wrangler. Until then this will have to do. Please Come Sit By Me
- January 17 – 20 Pulpwood Queen Girlfriend’s Weekend Texas. http://www.thepulpwoodqueens.com/2019-girlfriend-weekend-program/
- January 26 One-On-One Mentor Day With Ann-Madison, WI firstname.lastname@example.org
- January 27 Bloom-real time chat all day-Online https://www.facebook.com/groups/Bloomwithtpw/
- February 7 One-On-One Mentor Day with Ann-Madison, WI email@example.com
- March 1 UWM Leaders Conference-Milwaukee, WI https://uwm.edu/sce/sce_conf_page/women-leaders-speakers/
- March 11 How to Use Emotion To Plot Your Book-Madison, WI https://bit.ly/2RHFuHb
- March 16 Chicago Writers Association Conference-Chicago IL https://www.chicagowrites.org/conference
- March 27 Association of Writer Program Conference (2 panels)-Portland, OR https://bit.ly/2D4U03R
- April 4 – 7 Madison Writer’s Institute – Madison WI https://uwwritersinstitute.wisc.edu/speakers/ann-garvin/
- April 11 Association Of University Women-Lake Geneva, WI
- April 12-14 Cochise -Cochise Writing Celebration-Sierra Vista, AZ http://www.cochise.edu/cwc/
- April 28 . Untiledtown book conference in Greenbay https://2019.untitledtown.org/
- May 10 BRAVA Thrive Conference – Madison, WI https://bravamagazine.com/thrive-conference-schedule/
- May 26-June1 Karbohemia – South of France https://www.karenkarbo.com/come-to-karbohemia/
- June 10 -14 Write By The Lake – Madison, WI https://bit.ly/2QGFSBg
- Oct 24-27 PoppyCon-Chicago IL
- December 2 – 20 Ragdale Writing Residency-Chicago IL
Lonely? Just say Hello Kitty!
I got carded in Target. I got carded in Target and made a date to have coffee with the woman who carded me.
Let me explain.
You know how it is. You go to Target for a bath mat and you leave with $100 worth Chip and Jo twinkly lights, a hello kitty coffee mug and a stuffed animal for someone in your future who might have a baby someday. Also, a can of silver spray paint.
Here’s how it went down.
Seriously beautiful Cashier: I need to see your ID.
Me: Confused because I was not paying attention. I was reading about Heather Locklear and her hoarding tendencies and trying to decide if the number of 3M hooks in my shopping cart could be considered hoarding.
Seriously Beautiful Cashier: “Ma’am. I need to see your ID.”