Poem of the Week, by Robert Frost

In the book I’m writing, a desperate child imagines himself far above the planet, far from the endlessly breaking bad news. He isn’t wired for the constant barrage of awfulness. None of us are. This is why I love and admire people like thirty-three-year-old Chris Smalls, who, independent from any giant outside organization, unionized the Staten Island Amazon warehouse last week. Smalls and three friends saw injustice, jumped in and built the Amazon Labor Union from scratch. There are so many good people out there just jumping in and getting things done, so many ideas we haven’t yet tried.

Riders, by Robert Frost

The surest thing there is is we are riders,
And though none too successful at it, guiders,
Through everything presented, land and tide
And now the very air, of what we ride.

What is this talked of mystery of birth
But being mounted bareback on the earth?
We can just see the infant up astride,
His small fist buried in the bushy hide.

There is our wildest mount, a headless horse.
But though it runs unbridled off its course,
And all our blandishments would seem defied,
We have ideas yet that we haven’t tried.


For more information about Robert Frost, check out this site, where an unknown someone has written about him in an odd, strangely phrased (“happily buried”?) and somehow charming way.

alisonmcghee.com

Words by Winter: my podcast

Poem of the Week, by Ursula K. Le Guin

Click here for details on my one-day spring workshops, including The Intuitive Leap on April 7 and Freedom of Form on April 8.

The animal world I can understand: kill or be killed, kill or watch your children be killed. But so many of the things humans kill about are invisible and imaginary, like the boundaries between nations, like nations themselves, like the invisible systems of capitalism and other systems we all live and struggle within. That’s harder for me to wrap my head around.

The Next War, by Ursula K. Le Guin

It will take place,
it will take time
it will take life,
and waste them.

Click here for more information about Ursula K. Le Guin.​

alisonmcghee.com

Words by Winter: my podcast

Poem of the Week, by Tadeusz Dabrowski

For details on my one-day workshops, including Memoir in Moments on March 30 and The Art of Writing Picture Books on April 3, please click here.

When he was eight, my son –known in the family for his rare, uncanny pronouncements–looked at me one day and said, “Mom, what if we’re all just people in a book, and someone somewhere is writing us?” 

A few months ago, inside a little free library, I saw a hardcover copy of my first published novel. I pulled it out and looked through it –it was like an artifact from a previous life–and an airplane ticket fell out. That too was old and faded, but I made out the name of an acquaintance from many years ago. I pictured him on a plane, high above the clouds, carrying the secret lives of my people with him as he turned the pages.

Secret Reading Matter, by Tadeusz Dąbrowski, translated by Antonia Lloyd-Jones

I take the books left for free recycling mainly for their smell, 
I stick my nose among the pages, into business not my own, 
then stroll around someone else’s home,
peeping into their kitchen and their bedroom. But once 
their smell has faded and the book’s imbued with mine, 
I leave it at a bus stop or in a mailbox.
Busy nonstop with their crimes, their love lives, 
good and evil, keeping an eye on the time
and the setting, the characters haven’t a clue how many books 
they’re carrying away in their clothing


Please click here for more information on Tadeusz Dąbrowski.

alisonmcghee.com

Words by Winter: my podcast

Poem of the Week, by Claribel Alegria

To sign up for one of my spring writing workshops, including our Tuesday evening five-week session that begins March 22, please click here.

Moments: the tray of baked chicken and peas and applesauce that quiet night in the hospital. The first grade teacher who kept me in from recess but refused to tell me what I was doing wrong. How I tried to pick the green nail polish off my fingers at my grandmother’s funeral. That day on the train when he silently put his hand over mine. The morning the phone rang and I knew, I knew, I knew. The look on his face when he saw me standing by the hockey rink. My best friend’s green waitress apron with its deep pockets filled with tips. How we sat on the floor late at night counting them up. When I think of my life it’s only the moments that come shimmering up.

Summing Up, by Claribel Alegria, translated by the author and Darwin J. Flakoll

In the sixty-three years
I have lived
some instants are electric:
the happiness of my feet
jumping puddles
six hours in Machu Picchu
the buzzing of the telephone
while awaiting my mother’s death
the ten minutes it took
to lose my virginity
the hoarse voice
announcing the assassination
of Archbishop Romero
fifteen minutes in Delft
the first wail of my daughter
I don’t know how many years yearning
for the liberation of my people
certain immortal deaths
the eyes of that starving child
your eyes bathing me in love
one forget-me-not afternoon
the desire to mold myself
into a verse
a cry
a fleck of foam.

For more information about poet and “voice for the voiceless and the dispossessed” Claribel Alegria, please click here.​

alisonmcghee.com

Words by Winter: my podcast

Poem of the Week, by Muriel Rukeyser

I’d love to see you in one of my spring workshops! Details here.

Observation: anyone who thinks it’s an insult to describe someone as a “former comedian” has clearly never stood alone in front of a crowd of people with the intention of making them laugh. Doing so takes crazy courage, along with smarts, empathy, compassion, and an ability not only to sense but to change the energy of the room. Go to a Moth show sometime. Stand up on stage and tell a story. Put your heart on the line.

When you do that, you’ll likely be terrified. You’ll look out at the packed room and all you’ll see is the glare of the spotlight. You won’t see all the people cheering you on with the kindness it’s possible to show a stranger who’s putting themself on the line.

I don’t know what will happen in Ukraine. I do know that Zelenskyy, the former comedian, is brave as hell.

Poem (I lived in the first century of world wars), by Muriel Rukeyser

I lived in the first century of world wars.
Most mornings I would be more or less insane,
the newspapers would arrive with their careless stories,
the news would pour out of various devices
interrupted by attempts to sell products to the unseen.
I would call my friends on other devices;
they would be more or less mad for similar reasons.
Slowly I would get to pen and paper,
make my poems for others unseen and unborn.
In the day I would be reminded of those men and women,
brave, setting up signals across vast distances,
considering a nameless way of living, of almost unimagined values.
As the lights darkened, as the lights of night brightened,
we would try to imagine them, try to find each other,
to construct peace, to make love, to reconcile
waking with sleeping, ourselves with each other,
ourselves with ourselves. We would try by any means
to reach the limits of ourselves, to reach beyond ourselves,
to let go the means, to wake.

I lived in the first century of these wars.

Building a Story: a five-week workshop

Friends,

My spring five-week online creative writing workshop, Building a Story, has five spaces available. This is the same workshop that has sold out immediately in the past, and I love teaching it. The weekly format (offered on Tuesday evenings, 6-9 pm CST) allows us time to dive into all the essential elements of storytelling, from unforgettable characters to great dialogue to the most powerful iterations of tense and point of view and narrative arc. The workshop is lively and exhilarating and always, always supportive. Over many years I’ve developed my own unique style of teaching (based in part on what I disliked in workshops I took as a student), and I welcome writers of all genres and all levels of experience. Our workshops are illuminating, exhilarating and unfailingly supportive. (See sample testimonials below)

I’d love to see you in this five-week workshop. Email me at alisonmcghee@gmail.com with any and all questions.

Building a Story meets on Tuesday evenings via Zoom: March 22, 29, April 5, 12, 19, from 6-9 CST. The workshop is strictly limited to eight participants, with detailed weekly individual feedback from me. Fee: $400. Bonus: Writing prompts will be emailed to you every Friday for one month after class.

Registration and payment: To register (for either this five-week Building a Story class or any of my other individual workshops, email me or simply send payment and note which class you’re registering for. Registration is tentative until payment is received. You may send payment via Venmo to @Alison-McGhee-1, via Paypal to alison_mcghee@hotmail.com, or by personal check.

Testimonials from past participants

New and experienced writers alike who are lucky enough to take an Alison McGhee class will find their writing explored and uplifted, examined and celebrated, but always, always improved, in her skilled and gentle hands. (Tara G.)

Alison’s writing programs have been a revelation. I’ve taken writing programs in the past that made me swear I would never write another word, but Alison has a knack for bringing out the very best in the writers who study with her, even when “the best” is something they never knew they were capable of. Her teaching is fiercely intelligent, fiercely gentle, empathetic, deeply informed, and never patronizing or condescending. Take a leap of faith and try one of her classes. You’ll never look back.  (Janet M.)

Alison’s teaching has this amazing after-effect, an echo, a vibration, that comes from her voice, her sympathy, her encouragement of good words. (Tim N.)

Alison brings to her role as teacher an impressive combination of skills – passion, knowledge and depth of experience in the craft of writing, expert facilitation skills that creates a safe space for participants, and a seamless ability to keep the group moving. But what sets Alison apart is her unique ability to support people in their frailty as they explore sometimes difficult material in their lives or the lives of their characters. Alison’s immense humanity never makes a writer feel like they are going somewhere entirely alone. There’s always the feeling that she’ll catch you if you fall, and guide you back to the work at hand – the gift of storytelling.  (Tessa V.)

Alison is so very kind and responsive.  Her prompts are the most inventive I have ever seen. She gently guides you into new territory and eases you into taking writing risks without you realizing it. Take one of her workshops and reap the benefits. (Keyan K.)

Poem of the Week, by Molly Brodak

Check out our slew of spring workshops beginning next month, including our five-week Building a Story workshop. 

Me to a friend who claims spell check is the only reason he can spell anything: So before spell check what did you do?

Friend: I would say the word out loud and then look through the dictionary trying to find it by first letter. So a word like psychology? I would begin with S and not find it, then I’d look through all the C’s even though I knew that it couldn’t begin with C. It was slow and agonizing. And all my papers came back with low grades and comments like ‘You really must learn to proofread.’

It hurts to think of this friend trying so hard on his papers and being met with scorn. This same friend will envision a 12’x20′ painting, build panels to paint it on, gather brushes and air compressor and broom and whatever else it takes to make it, then build a block and tackle to haul it up onto the wall.

When it comes to spelling, I’ve never had to work at all, and my essays usually got A’s, but if I ever made a painting it’d come back with “you really must learn to paint.”

Why are so we hard on others? Why are we so hard on ourselves? Dear Molly Brodak, I will be reciting this poem for the rest of my life.

How to Not Be a Perfectionist, by Molly Brodak

People are vivid

and small

and don’t live

very long—

For more information about Molly Brodak, please click here.
alisonmcghee.com
Words by Winter: my podcast

Poem of the Week, by CAConrad

Oh, this poem. When I first read it my long-ago friend Marty shimmered up in my mind, small thin Marty who came to the creative writing classes I taught at the Minnesota AIDS project when I first moved to Minneapolis. I used to bake muffins to pass around and Marty loved them, blueberry especially.

Once, when he and I were in the parking lot talking after class, he reached out and filched a third muffin from the basket. It wants to be free, he said, with that sly smile of his, I’m just liberating it. You’re long gone now, Marty, along with so, so many others from back in those pre-medicine days, but I promise I still see you, and every time I bake blueberry muffins I think of you.

72 Corona Transmutations (excerpt), by CAConrad

                                                my friend

                                                Rex told me

                                                when he was

                                                dying of AIDS

                                    promise me every day of 1993

                        will be the best day with or without me  

                                                27 years later

                                                the promise

                                                still kept 

For more information on CAConrad, please visit their website.

alisonmcghee.com
Words by Winter: my podcas

Spring 2022 Words by Winter Writing Workshops!

One-day Workshops: Could your creative spirit use a recharge? Come join me on my (virtual) porch for an exhilarating, fun, intensive workshop! All my three-hour workshops are taught via Zoom and designed for writers of any and all experience. No preparation or skills required. Workshop offerings are regularly updated (check out the brand-new The Intuitive Leap class), and I’d also be happy to design one specifically for your writing group. Each workshop requires a minimum of five participants and is capped at ten.

Building a Story five-week workshop: This spring I’m offering another session of my ongoing Building a Story workshop on Tuesday evenings: March 22, 29, April 5, 12, 19, from 6-9 CST. Building a Story is strictly limited to eight participants, with detailed weekly individual feedback from me. This five-session class has filled almost immediately each time it’s been offered in the past, so if you’re interested I encourage you to register soon. Scroll down for details. Building a Story fee: $400 (no discounts).

One-day workshop fee: $75. Note that I also offer a pay-as-you’re-able option to participants under financial duress (I’ve been there myself), from $10-$75, no questions asked.

Registration and payment: To register for either the five-week Building a Story class or an individual workshop, email me or simply send payment and note which class you’re registering for. Registration is tentative until payment is received. You may send payment via Venmo to Alison-McGhee-1, via Paypal to alison_mcghee@hotmail.com, or by personal check. Please email me with any questions.

SPRING 2022 SCHEDULE AT A GLANCE (scroll down for detailed descriptions of each workshop)

Building a Story, an Ongoing Workshop: Tuesday evenings, March 22, 29, April 5, 12, and 19, 6-9 CST (be sure to check time zone)
The Transformation of Trauma: Friday, February 25, 1-4 pm CST (Note: this class is free)
Creative Writing Kickstart: Saturday, February 26, 1-4 pm CST
Writing from the Body: Friday, March 18, 1-4 pm CST
*The Gift of Words: Friday, March 25, 1-4 pm CST(new class!)
Memoir in Moments: Writing Your Life: Wednesday, March 30, 6-9 pm CST
*The Intuitive Leap: Thursday, April 7, 6-9 pm CST (new class!)
The Freedom of Form: Friday, April 8, 1-4 pm CST

Building a Story: An Ongoing Workshop
Tuesday evenings: March 22, 29, April 5, 12, and 19, 6-9 CST (be sure to check time zone)

This five-week class is designed for fiction, memoir, creative nonfiction, and poetry writers. (It’s not designed for picture book writers, but what the heck, you might like it anyway.) Each week will focus on a different, essential craft of good storytelling, from character development to dialogue to narrative arc to the creative process itself. We’ll examine both published work and class submissions. Participants are welcome (but never required!) to share their work with the class as a whole. Everyone will receive weekly detailed feedback from me. Bonus: I’ll send out a weekly writing prompt every Friday for the month following class.

Fee: $400 (no discounts for this class).

One-day Workshops (three hours each)

The Transformation of Trauma
Friday, February 25, 1-4 pm CST (be sure to note time zone)

Are you haunted by the memory of trauma? Maybe someone assaulted you, or abused you over a long period of time. Maybe as a child, or adult, you struggled through domestic violence or emotional manipulation. If your life feels compromised by these memories, and you’re looking for ways to work through them, welcome to this workshop. Note that I am not a trained therapist and this class is not therapy. I designed it as both a human being and lifelong artist whose own experience shows that the making of art, in all its many and varied forms, can be a profound way to absorb and translate past experiences that were unfair, unwanted, and cruel. In our time together, we’ll do some brief writings, read and discuss a few short readings, and find ways to unlock your own power. Note: this class is always free. To register, just email me.

Creative Writing Kickstart
           
Saturday, February 26, 1-4 pm CST(note time zone)

Have you always wanted to write but aren’t sure how to begin? Or, are you a writer in need of an energy boost and a fresh start? This three-hour intensive Kickstart workshop will recharge your writing energy and help you develop a regular writing practice. We’ll do several brief writings and talk about various aspects of craft and process –maybe language, maybe flow, maybe dialogue, maybe tense and point of view, maybe some other things– in terms of what makes great writing great. The class is designed for writers of all abilities, experience levels and genres – so I forbid you to worry if you’ve never written before! Bonus: Weekly writing prompts will be emailed to you every Friday for one month after class. 

The Art of Writing Picture Books
        
Tuesday, March 15, 6-9 pm CST (note time zone)

Do you love picture books? Have you ever wanted to write one? Are you curious how to go about it? Welcome to my one-day picture book writing workshop! In our intensive, fun class, we’ll deconstruct some classic picture books, talk about ideas for new ones, and go through all the nuts and bolts, such as how long can a picture book be? What’s the relationship between writer and artist? How do you write a picture book that children will love and adults won’t mind reading ten thousand times in a row? We’ll come up with ideas, draft a basic outline for one or more picture books, read aloud some favorite passages, and provide instant feedback on anything you come up with. 

Writing from the Body
        
Friday, March 18, 1-4 pm CST (note time zone)

Our bodies hold within them everything that has ever happened to us. We may not consciously recall events from long ago, or even recently, but our bodies do. Ask your body to recall a moment of great joy, of great sorrow, of exhilaration or trauma, and physical memory will come washing back over you. Writing from your body, instead of your mind, is an intuitive and potent means of connecting both with yourself and readers. Brief in-class writings and discussion of short published works (provided) will focus on the power of physical memory as entry into powerful writing. Bonus: Weekly writing prompts will be emailed to you every Friday for one month after class. 

The Gift of Words
Friday, March 25, 1-4 pm CST (note time zone

Think of the people you love in your life. Picture them in your mind. Recall conversations you’ve had with them, times you’ve watched them in motion. The sound of their voice, their laughter, tears, songs. The way they touch their pets, their children, their flowers. The way they touch you. Everything about those nearest and dearest to you is specific and particular and unique to them, and so is the way you love them. In this three-hour workshop, we’ll draw on memory, the senses, and deep observation to create three gifts of words. (Hallmark is great, but you’re greater.)

Memoir in Moments: Writing Your Life
        
Wednesday, March 30, 6-9 pm CST (note time zone)

Maybe you’re at a new stage of life, looking back. Maybe you’re thinking about your family, or your children, and all the stories they might not know about you. Maybe you’re looking back on your childhood, the things you wondered about back then, the conversations you had, the places you went, how all of them were pieces of a much larger life puzzle. Think about that T-shirt you wore all the time in seventh grade. Think about your favorite dessert when you were five years old. Your favorite song as a senior in high school. The secret you’ve never told anyone. The dream that came true, and the one that didn’t. The unexpected turns your life has taken, and how they placed pattern to everything that came after. We’ll focus on memoir moments in this class, brief, specific writing prompts that shine up from the page and give readers a perhaps unexpected window into who you are. Bonus: Weekly writing prompts will be emailed to you every Friday for one month after class.

The Intuitive Leap
        
Thursday, April 7, 6-9 pm CST (note time zone)

Let’s play! Forget your conscious self and see what your subconscious has to offer you instead. It’s stunning how the being who lives deep within you can twist and turn and open up your words. This class is based on my own experience with the artist I refer to as my underground writer, who is always working on behalf of me and my writing. Sometimes I give her assignments, such as “Please come up with a picture book that’s pure joy, about the love between a father and his baby,” and then let her go to town, which is exactly how I came up with my forthcoming book Baby Be. Through a series of short prompts and discussion, we’ll learn how to let go and let your subconscious show you the way. This is a brand-new workshop and I’d love to see you in it. Bonus: Weekly writing prompts will be emailed to you every Friday for one month after class.

The Freedom of Form
        
Friday, April 8, 1-4 pm CST (note time zone)

When you’re stuck in a piece of writing, feeling lifeless, what do you do? Grind through, hoping desperately that a window will open? Give up? Take a break? Declare yourself a failure and slink off to drown your sorrows? I’ve taken a shot at all these methods, and none of them work as well for me as re-framing the work itself. I give myself seemingly arbitrary rules to work within, e.g., Write this scene as a series of text messages, or, Write this novel as a series of one-hundred-word passages. The freedom of assigned form is real, people, and it’s why novels usually have chapters, and picture books are usually under 500 words. It’s why enduring forms of poetry like haiku and sonnets and sestinas are still alive and thriving. In this workshop, which is designed for writers in all genres, we will play with form as a way to open up your writing, your mind and your heart to the freedom and creativity inherent in all art. Bonus: Weekly writing prompts will be emailed to you every Friday for one month following the end of class.

Comments from past participants

New and experienced writers alike who are lucky enough to take an Alison McGhee class will find their writing explored and uplifted, examined and celebrated, but always, always improved, in her skilled and gentle hands. (Tara G.)

Alison’s writing programs have been a revelation. I’ve taken writing programs in the past that made me swear I would never write another word, but Alison has a knack for bringing out the very best in the writers who study with her, even when “the best” is something they never knew they were capable of. Her teaching is fiercely intelligent, fiercely gentle, empathetic, deeply informed, and never patronizing or condescending. Take a leap of faith and try one of her classes. You’ll never look back.  (Janet M.)

Alison’s teaching has this amazing after-effect, an echo, a vibration, that comes from her voice, her sympathy, her encouragement of good words. (Tim N.)

Alison brings to her role as teacher an impressive combination of skills – passion, knowledge and depth of experience in the craft of writing, expert facilitation skills that creates a safe space for participants, and a seamless ability to keep the group moving. But what sets Alison apart is her unique ability to support people in their frailty as they explore sometimes difficult material in their lives or the lives of their characters. Alison’s immense humanity never makes a writer feel like they are going somewhere entirely alone. There’s always the feeling that she’ll catch you if you fall, and guide you back to the work at hand – the gift of storytelling.  (Tessa V.)

The only thing better than reading Alison’s blog posts or listening to her podcast is spending time with her in the writing workshops. She quickly helped me generate material which later became a short series of poems. Sharpen your #2s and get to writing. (William B.)

Prompts that prompt you to stretch your thinking, tips that you can use beyond the class, and discussions that lead to insights make Alison’s workshops worth every minute you spend with her. (Pauline C.)

I’ve taken several of Alison McGhee’s workshops and have loved every one of them. Alison is not only a wonderful writer, she is a terrific teacher. Alison has a true gift of connection and of helping her students tap into the deepest, juiciest parts of themselves and their fictional characters and share those parts on the page. Take any–and all–of Alison’s offerings! (Diane G.)

Alison is so very kind and responsive.  Her prompts are the most inventive I have ever seen. She gently guides you into new territory and eases you into taking writing risks without you realizing it. Take one of her workshops and reap the benefits. (Keyan K.)

Poem of the Week, by Lucille Clifton

Photo by Holly McGhee

Once, at a book conference overseas, the women at my table told me they felt sorry for American women like me, that I not only had to work so hard at my writing career but also at home, cleaning and cooking and doing laundry and taking care of my children, while they had cooks and drivers and housekeepers and nannies. I’ve thought about that conversation ever since. Thought about what it says about the systems of racism and sexism most of us struggle within. Thought about famous people and all the people behind them in the shadows, overlooked, overworked, underpaid. Every time I read the last line of this poem the entirety of our country’s history comes over me.

study the masters, by Lucille Clifton

like my aunt timmie.
it was her iron,
or one like hers,
that smoothed the sheets
the master poet slept on.
home or hotel, what matters is
he lay himself down on her handiwork
and dreamed. she dreamed too, words:
some cherokee, some masai and some
huge and particular as hope.
if you had heard her
chanting as she ironed
you would understand form and line
and discipline and order and
america.

For more information about Lucille Clifton, please click here.

alisonmcghee.com
Words by Winter: my podcast