Guest post: They may just have to lie about their age

I like promoting my books as much as I like writing them – you meet so many cool new people, and in so many different settings. We had a great turn-out at Women & Children First bookstore last Wednesday (big thanks to all of you who came), and I’m speaking to a group this afternoon at The “ssenior lifestyle facility” where Hannelore, one of the writers featured in Writing Out Loud, lives now. This past Tuesday? I nestled into a comfy chair in a beautiful condo on Chicago’s north side for a book party. The dozen women Sharon Silverman (another writer from one of my memoir-writing classes) invited to her place hadn’t all met before, but thanks to a little wine and a writing exercise, they left knowing each other pretty well. Here’s Sharon now, with a guest post about that party.

by Sharon Silverman

Let’s start at the beginning. Beth lives in the South Loop. I live miles away in Chicago’s Rogers Park neighborhood. How to handle the logistics? When Beth heard that the #147 bus stops right on my corner, she just shrugged and said, “Oh, I’ll take the bus with Whitney.” Piece of cake.

We had a great time at Sharon’s house.

Winding her way on the bus through the Loop, onto Lake Shore Drive, and eventually on Sheridan Rd., Beth would text each location to me. “Getting closer.” “At Greenville stop.” “Almost there.” Eureka! When they arrived at the corner of Farwell and Sheridan, I sent my friend Margaret down to escort them back to my place. Let the fun begin!

No evening at my place is complete without wine and goodies, so my wonderful women friends join Beth and me with glasses of red and white and plates of cheese, crackers and sweets. Bonus: cocktail napkins that say, “Book? I’m just here to drink.”

Each woman I invited is remarkable in her own right: a psychotherapist, a graphic artist, a Kohl award-winning early childhood teacher, a former college administrator, a piano teacher, a human resources manager, a community college teacher, a higher education professional. Sitting in a circle in my living room, let the stories commence!

“Let me tell you about the little three year old boy in my class who uses swear words.” “That reminds me of the college administrator I know whose vocabulary is full of unmentionables.” Laughter abounds. We are connecting and entranced as we listen to each other — a prelude to Beth’s presentation about writing memoir.

Beth tells her story and describes how she conducts her memoir writing classes. The stem of Beth’s glass of red is ensconced very tightly between her feet on the floor, right in front of Seeing Eye dog Whitney — who behaves herself and doesn’t dare take a sip.

Beth had asked if I’d share some examples of assignments I’d written for class. I chose a piece I wrote when she assigned “Late Again” as a writing prompt. My essay was about showing up late for school every day during my teenage years –I wasn’t terribly fond of high school. When Beth describes some other writing prompts she uses in class, I bring out the essay I wrote when we were asked to write an entire 500-word essay using only three-word phrases – my piece acknowledges my worries about what life might be like a decade from now. An excerpt:

Blood pressure high.
Mom’s was, too.
Bladder is weak.
Please don’t leak!

Lots of smiles and giggles, and then I pass around notebooks and pens for a quick memoir-writing prompt. The writing exercise is optional, but these 12 women are game. They all give it a try, and by the end of the evening, it’s apparent we have some budding memoir writers in the group.

I had to laugh when some realized they aren’t old enough to join one of Beth’s classes. “I’m just 50.” “Can I join a group?” “I just got my AARP card in the mail! Does that count?” More wine, more laughter, and as the party ends, Beth rummages through her backpack to dig out her ink pad and rubber stamp. Whitney’s pawtograph is ceremoniously stamped into our copies of Writing Out Loud, and Beth autographs them, too. Truly an evening to remember.