Narratives of Self & Society: Writing Life Stories for Change with Dr. Liz Burke-Cravens

Last month, the Transformative Language Arts Network launched their second self-paced class offering, Narratives of Self & Society: Writing Life Stories for Change created by Liz Burke-Cravens. Here in this interview, Liz shares what inspired her to create this class, the transformative potential of writing life stories, and what you can expect from the course.   

What inspired you to teach this class?

My own experiences with autobiographical writing have been inspiring my own writing and my teaching for quite some time. When I was in the eighth grade, my English teacher – whom I absolutely adored – required students to write an autobiography. As I put the narrative together, writing the words in my vulnerable young voice, I felt something inside of me shift. Although I did not have the language to describe what had changed, I simply knew that I saw myself differently than I had before. There was something about the act of putting my feelings and thoughts into words, writing them down on paper, and telling the story of my own life experiences that has fascinated me ever since.As an undergraduate at UMass Amherst, I wrote my first autoethnography – although I did not call it that at the time; I called it a political autobiography. This autoethnography was a collection of poems I titled, “My Body Speaks” in which I gave voice to the stories and emotions living within my body as an act of reclamation and empowerment.

Writing that poetic autoethnography forever changed how I perceived myself and how I walked through the world.

How is writing life stories – drawing from practices of autoethnography specifically – a transformative experience? What makes the this medium different from other forms of expression?

These experiences inspired my doctoral research which explored autoethnography as a personally and socially transformative mode of inquiry and expression of life stories. I was also particularly interested in learning about the unique value of autoethnography as a platform for underrepresented voices.

The findings of my study corroborated my own transformative experience writing autoethnography. My findings also expanded my understanding of it as well. Through writing an autoethnography, participants in my study experienced:

  • Personal growth, which reflected their experiences of personal development that included increased self-awareness, self-acceptance, confidence building, different worldview, and educational process;
  • An emotional process, which reflected their experiences of a variety of emotional realities and processes including painful or difficult emotions, joyful or fun emotions, feelings of liberation, therapeutic or healing experiences, and feelings of vulnerability;
  • Social connectedness, which reflected their responses related to experiences of the self in relation to others that included social responsibility, increased sense of belonging or connection, and
  • Transpersonal experiences which reflected their descriptions of qualities beyond their control and contributed to his or her sense of wholeness and spiritual growth.

Overall, autoethnography facilitated personal growth, greater self-awareness, greater awareness of contexts and systems in which one participates, and provided a meaningful creative experience.

Who/What are some of your favorite life-story writers?

This is always a tough question. The first writers that come to mind are Joan Nestle whose work A Restricted Country was a life changer for me as a young activist. Carolyn Kay Steedman’s Landscape for a Good Woman: The Story of Two Lives was also pivotal for me, and anything and everything written by Dorothy Allison – Two or Three Things I Know for Sure and Bastard Out of Carolina, in particular, have been my favorites.

As far as poets who write about their lives, I think of Marie Howe, Toi Derricotte, Sharon Olds, Ada Limon, and Claudia Rankine come to mind.  

What should students in this class expect?

Although this is a self-paced class, my intention was to be your guide, helping you navigate the content and the writing students will do. They will have the opportunity to do quite a bit of self-reflective writing, investigating the stories of their life experiences from a variety of different vantage points, exploring memories, learning from others on their journey, and describing places that are or have been meaningful to them.

I will also guide you through a 10-step process for creating powerful and evocative life stories for the purpose of personal and social transformation. They will learn about what that means in general as well as what it means for them in particular. They will also have the option to engage in a number of creative prompts intended to help generate more writing and to keep their creative self inspired.

Each unit consists of a brief podcast lecture by me, a few articles and book chapters for you to read, related video and audio content, writing project development instructions, and creative prompts.

Is there anything else about this class you would like to share?

One really important point I want to share is that there is no one “right” way to do autoethnography. In fact, we encounter this type of life-story writing all the time; we just don’t call it autoethnography. But drawing on certain aspects of more formal autoethnographic processes and considerations can greatly enrich our life stories, making them powerful narratives for change.

My hope is that folks will approach this course, the resources, lectures, and writing and creative prompts with a sense of curiosity and playfulness. Have fun with this and enjoy!

For more information and to sign up for class, visit https://www.tlanetwork.org/event-3173329 .

About Dr. Liz Burke-Cravens

Dr. Liz Burke-Cravens is a poet, interdisciplinary educator, and writing coach. She is the founder of A Brave Space, a learning community that seeks to create positive social change and personal transformation through writing. Her work has appeared in Ireland and the Americas: Culture, Politics, and History: A Multidisciplinary Encyclopedia, Volume 2, The Irish Herald, Soulstice: A Feminist Anthology Volume II, and Sandy River Review. Liz enjoys traveling, cycling, photography, and all things foodie. She has a deep love for language and a passion for teaching. Originally from Portland, Maine, she now lives in Oakland, California with her wife, Amber, and their two dogs, Schmoopie and Mr. Bits. You can learn more about her work, courses, and inspirations at http://www.abravespace.org.

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A Conversation on Right Livelihood and Transformative Language Arts, by Caryn Mirriam-Goldberg

carynlaura

The Transformative Language Arts Network’s “Right Livelihood Professional Training” with Caryn Mirriam-Goldberg and Laura Packer offers writers, storytellers, performers, coaches, facilitations, and others in the arts a pathway to make a living in concert with their callings and communities. Unlike cookie-cutter career programs, this visionary training guides you toward what constellation of vocation works best for you now, and when the path meanders, whether you’re leaping into a new career or form of service or developing your new work while keeping your current job. This 100-hour training includes weekend retreat in Kansas City June 27-30, an in-depth online class; video-conferencing with luminaries including Harriet Lerner, Gregg Levoy, and others, and a graduation seminar at the Power of Words conference in Arizona Sept. 27-29 (you can video-conference in if you can’t attend in person). Early Bird Deadline ends March 15. https://www.tlanetwork.org/Right-Livelihood-Training

What does Right Livelihood mean in the context of TLA? How does it relate to finding and staying in conversation with our life’s work while keeping the cupboards and gas tank full as well as caring for our health, art, soul, and community?

Laura Packer and Caryn Mirriam-Goldberg, between them, have decades of experience. Laura has been supporting herself as a storyteller, writer, consultant and coach for more than ten years. While her income isn’t as consistent as it was when she had a day job, Laura finds her work to be fulfilling and meaningful, which more than balances the occasional financial unpredictability. These days she travels around the world teaching, performing, coaching, giving talks, and helping people and organizations discover and find meaning in their own stories. Her writing ranges from ghost-writing for CEOs to lyrical essays about storytelling and life to the occasional piece of fiction or poetry. Laura is nourished and transformed by her work every day; she sometimes says her work is synonymous for living, because story is everywhere.

Caryn Mirriam-Goldberg has been balancing freelance workshops, consulting, presentations, and collaborative projects with her own writing and teaching at academic institutions since 1986. She makes her living now from teaching in Goddard College’s Graduate Institute and coordinating the TLA concentration and driving her 2004 peanut-butter-cup-colored Honda CRV all over Kansas and nearby states to lead workshops, give readings and talks, and collaborate on projects. Threaded through all, she writes poetry, fiction, memoir, blog posts, and songs. Her work also encompasses long walks with her husband and dog, being present for and with loved ones, making things (from quilts to soups), and watching great movies.

Here is Caryn & Laura’s conversation, which starts and continues each time they visit in person but was caught here through a google doc over several months.

Caryn Mirriam-Goldberg: When I was growing up, I had no idea how a poet would make a living, and although people pushed me toward journalism and advertising, it didn’t stick. I was made to make things, especially out of words.

Now I make a living in ways that didn’t even exist when I was a teenage poet: I teach in a low-residency master’s program at Goddard College, traveling from Kansas to Vermont twice each year to work with students intensively in designing and implementing their individualized studies and facilitate community writing workshops for many populations, particularly for people living with serious illness. I love what happens when mortality is at the table, and we speak, listen and write from our souls. I give talks, workshops and readings through the Kansas Humanities Council and University of Kansas Osher Institute, and mostly on my own, conversing deeply with audiences on everything from poetry and wild weather to oral histories of people who survived the Holocaust. My work is a kaleidoscope of gigs and teaching, mentoring and consulting, driving across the plains in the bright light of early spring and occasionally flying over the green wonder of the mountains surrounding Lake Champlain to land again in Vermont.

What is your work, Laura, and how did you find your way to it?

Laura Packer: While I was pursuing my degree in Folklore and Mythology I had a lot of people tell me to practice saying, “Would you like fries with that?” I ignored them and persevered. Truthfully, I didn’t know what I was going to do with the degree, I just knew that I loved stories and that my work lay in that direction.

I met the man who would become my mentor when I was 19. He was telling stories and, as I listened, I knew that this was my path. It took me awhile to realize I would have to build the path myself. I worked part time for many years while I pursued my craft, but now I support myself doing a wide range of things that all fall under the umbrella of storytelling. I perform around the world to a wide range of audiences. I’ve told stories in pre-school, at festivals, universities, homes and so on. I teach, running workshops and coaching people ranging from storytellers to CEOs to parents to marketers to non-profit professionals and more. I work with organizations, both for- and non-profit, helping them understand and refine the stories they tell. I give keynotes and lead workshops at conferences. And I write, blogging about storytelling and taking on freelance assignments from a wide variety of clients.

It’s never boring. It’s sometimes hard to keep track of. I am always learning, hearing new stories and remembering that the work I do matters. Everything I do, as diverse as it is, touches upon story and the ways that our stories matter. I know that the work I do supports me both financially and spiritually. I also know that the work I do helps others. It is the right path and one it’s been fascinating to create.

Caryn, I’m wondering about the work you do with TLA and what that has to do with right livelihood. For that matter, could you explain what right livelihood means to you?

CMG: When I first heard about the term “right livelihood”—at Goddard College during a session on making a living true to ourselves—it chimed in me as something I had been seeking for myself and my community for a long time. After being thrown out of journalism school (the extremes we will go to so we can land in the right place!), I earned my BA in labor history, drawing on my concern since I was a teen about how our work lives infuse the whole of our lives. What we “do” colors not just our workaday life but how perceive ourselves, our communities, our world, and our potential to change. If your work entails saying, “Would you like fries with that?” on regular basis, it’s likely that being a fast-food worker shapes your identity, sense of self and what’s possible for you, and even your belief about what kind of work you’re entailed to do in your life.

Right livelihood is a Buddhist term, part of Buddha’s eightfold path (which also includes right speech, another TLA concept in my mind), and it connotes work that does no harm. Stretched out, the term points toward work (both vocation and avocation, for pay and just because it feels like our work) that serves, including conversing with our own callings as well as our community’s calling.

I didn’t realize when I was studying labor history, and later working as a labor organizer and reporter—all the time writing and reading and breathing poetry—that all would converge into my own right livelihood. As a transformative language artist, I draw on the power of our words aloud and on the page, solo and choral, to herd us toward greater health, vibrancy, liberation, and connection with the living world. My work—both at Goddard as a faculty member and coordinator of TLA, and as a working artist facilitating brave spaces for others to find more of their own voices and visions—is how I practice my right livelihood. All of this aligns me with the continual conversation with a calling, but it’s also work that, at best, helps others articulate more of their own truest work in the world. In the Brave Voice writing and singing retreats I co-lead with singer-songwriter Kelley Hunt, we fly on the assumption that opening your voice in one way cannot help but strengthen your voice in your whole life, and I’ve witnessed many people making courageous leaps into who they already were and what they now need to do.

Laura, is that how it is for you too as a performer, teacher, mentor, and writer as well as someone I would call a fellow transformative language artist?

LP: Caryn, you hit the nail right on the head. Right livelihood means work that enlivens and enriches us thoroughly, from fiscal health to spiritual health and beyond. It’s work that nourishes our spirits as well as our bodies and allows us to function as contributing members of a larger community, which is what artists are.

When I remember the value of my work in that larger picture, as someone who brings something powerful to a community as well as enriching my own life, it’s easier for me to be able to charge appropriately, advocate for myself and remember that what I do, as well as all other artists, matters.

CMG: Absolutely! I think part of this work, to really put the “right” into “right livelihood,” entails making paths for and sometimes with other artists. Little makes me as happy as seeing someone I helped mentor come out with a first book or start giving writing workshops in their communities.

Laura, you’ve talked with me before about the importance of charging what we’re worth as a way to honor those who come after us. The whole issue of what to charge, and how to ask for what our work is worth, is challenging and variable for me. I’ll do some things for hardly anything or for free, and other things for a livable stipend, yet negotiations can encompass lots of gray areas. I find our system of working this out to be awkward: an organization will often not say what it can afford until I suggest an amount. I often present what I charge as a range from the lowest I’m willing to accept to the highest I believe I should be paid, and if it’s something I really feel is mine to do, I try to convey that I’m open to negotiation.

Of course, all these issues speak to our cultural tendency to soil our money relationship with shame, privilege, hurt, defensiveness and other difficult guests to host. I’ve had a lot of help along the way to ask for what my work is worth, even and especially as a poet. Once a representation of an organization I was working with told me, a few hours before my gig there, that they didn’t have enough in the budget to pay me what we agreed on, so would I take a cut in pay? The musician I was collaborating with wasn’t asked to take a cut, so we talked this over, and together told the organization, “no,” but it was eye-opening for me, re-affirming my bias against myself that poets don’t get paid or paid much. Having someone stand tall with me helped me to challenge my self- and poet-destructive thinking, and hopefully, as time goes on, may have some effect for others too.

How do you navigate all this?

LP: Oh, this is a hard one! I feel like I don’t navigate it well much of the time, but I do the best I can, which is all any of us can do. Money is such a taboo subject, I try to understand my own prejudices and fears as well as talk about it, so it becomes less taboo. I use several tools to help me think and talk about money.

First, I talk with my colleagues about what they charge. If we remove some of the secrecy, we can all charge a living wage AND put a dent in the cultural idea that transformative language art should be cheap and that those who hire us should pay us less than they would their caterer, organizer, musician or others. It’s related to your experience with being asked to take a pay cut when your musician friend was not; if we charge a reasonable amount and know that we aren’t pricing ourselves out of range of our colleagues but in alliance with them, it can be easier to ask for. Additionally, by talking about it with my colleagues we get to remind ourselves that we are charging for far more than the 30 or 60 minute event, but for all of the time and experience that lies behind it.

Second, I do what you do. I often give the representative a range of cost and then remind them that this is how I make their living. I also tell them that I am open to negotiation (if I am).

Third, if I give work away for free or at a greatly reduced cost, I always give an invoice that reflects what I would have wanted to be paid. This helps lay groundwork that what I, and other TLA artists do, is valuable and worth paying for.

Fourth and last, I remember what a wise friend said to me, when I asked him money questions. He told me, “You can always negotiate down, you can’t negotiate up. Think about what you want and then ask for double.” I don’t do it quite this way (asking for double feels too bold for me) but I do ask for what I want and a little more. I can lower my rate, shorten the event, barter for other services but once I’ve set a price I can’t really come back and ask for more unless they ask for more service first.

When I remember to financially value my own work I am not only telling myself that what I do is worthwhile, I am also telling the rest of the world that art matters.

CMG: That’s very wise advice, and I love the idea of the invoice for what this is worth. There’s something magical about saying on paper “this is what my work is worth” when it comes to inviting in more lucrative work to balance out what we feel drawn to give away.

I’ve been thinking of what I do for free lately because in the last few months. I have one project that I’m grappling with because it’s sort of a “closure” project with a group of people, a way to share some social capital after working with this group for many years in the past. In the long run, I know this project is what I should be doing, but it’s sometimes difficult to balance the volunteer work with the paid work and still have time (not!) to write.

I’ve also been editing a book for a wonderful poet in his dying days, and that’s a sweetheart labor of love through and through. It’s an immersion in grace to be able to do this for someone I love and whose poetry is so important to share with others who can find a lot of sustenance in what he has to say about death, dying and life.

Often though, it’s hard for me to know the impact of my work and if I’m making the best decisions about where to put my time. My husband, also a writer and grassroots organizer, and I often joke as we’re falling asleep that we won’t know the impact of our work until after we’re dead, and I think that’s true. We don’t know, and this makes think of a stanza in one of my favorite Rumi poems:

If you are here unfaithfully with us,

you’re causing terrible damage.

If you’ve opened your loving to God’s love,

you’re helping people you don’t know

and have never seen.

So maybe all we can do is to try to be faithful in being here with our people, which also means being faithful to ourselves, and through our work and being, open our hearts (whether we use phrase like “God’s love” or not in describing this) to dropping our pebble in the pond and hoping for the best for what ripples we make and receive.

How have you learned and how are you learning how to do your best Right Livelihood?

LP: Most of what I’ve learned about right livelihood has come from trying things, seeing what works, and talking honestly with my colleagues. We build community by have frank conversations about value, issues and solutions, about how to support each other, not undercut each other and still get work.

I love your idea of being faithful to ourselves and our work. When we are open hearted in our approach we are at once more vulnerable and more reachable. I think vulnerability is too often seen as a weakness in the working world. When we are vulnerable we let others know they can be vulnerable too. I have found I am no more likely to be hurt or not get work when I am honest.

If I model that for everyone with whom I interact then they may be a bit more vulnerable too. We can connect more effectively. We help others without even knowing it.

CMG: I also think of those I owe homage to for what they taught me and are teaching me about Right Livelihood. One of my close friends, Kris Hermanson, is a wiz at organizational development and consulting, and I’ve learned a great deal from her about how to write and share strong proposals, grants, pitches to those who might want to bring me on-board. Plus, we both work at home or in coffee houses, so we check in with each other often, helping each other talk through questions and dilemmas, quandaries and decisions, such as how to deal with people along the way. Mostly, though, it’s how to navigate projects with people who have great intentions, but limited budgets and experience, and how can we make this a learning experience in the best way that really serves the community.

Another mentor is also a close friend, Kelley Hunt, who has been a touring musician for decades. We’ve had infinite conversations on the nuts and bolts of freelance work, including deeply pondering whether to say yes or no, what to charge, how to take care of ourselves during big push times when there’s too many gigs at once, and we have our own business together, Brave Voice, which lands us in the center of thousands of spinning details and bits of magic when there’s a retreat or performance afoot.

I’m also very lucky to have a great partner in life, my husband, Ken, who I can puzzle through various predicaments with, and who has great sense in seeing ways through the bramble to lift up everyone involved. He’s a Midwesterner to my east coast Jewish background, so he’s less apt to escalate and more seasoned in taking a breath and finding the wide-sky perspective on how to proceed.

One of my big tripping points is forgiving myself when I overschedule and overcommit. I tend to first go to the, “Oh, you did it again! What is wrong with you?” Place. My people help me let go of the shame and accept that making mistakes is part of this work. I also find conversations with you, Laura, to be immensely helpful in the “what is enough?” and “what is too much?” as well as about the whole Right Livelihood quest.

Who are your guides and mentors, Laura?

LP: Thank you Caryn! Likewise, I find talking with you to be immensely helpful. Your honesty and willingness to talk about difficult topics with vulnerability help remind me that I am not alone. Your insight is invaluable.

I have a number of what I call accountability buddies who help me set and keep goals. They also help me forgive myself when I overreach and remind me to take time for self-care. Two of those buddies in particular, Mark Binder and Cameryn Moore, help me with getting things done on time and prioritizing. Mark also helps me think through some of the financial issues of our work. My friends Elsa Zuniga and Trish Berrong help me think strategically and remind me that I can’t do everything. And friends like Priscilla Howe and Christie Keegan help me work through various artistic projects.

I think it’s easy to get caught up in the idea of the lone writer, scribbling away in her garret. It’s part of the cultural story about artists and it’s compounded by the American story of the lone hero. Neither of those stories really work for me. We need help, no one can do everything alone. We need people we can rely on to keep us on track, to remind us that what we do matters and to help us be kind to ourselves in meaningful ways. Most of the time people are honored when you ask for help. It’s worth the risk. I know I couldn’t do what I do alone. For all that the actual acts of creation take place alone and all of the sustaining work is made easier by having allies.

CMG: You teach a class for the TLA Network on “Creating a Sustainable Story: Self-Care, Meaningful Work and the Business of Creativity.” Could you say more about what “a sustainable story” means to you?

LP: We understand our lives through story. We tell ourselves stories about who we are, how we got that way, our roles in the world and the work we do. It can be easy to tell ourselves stories that are destructive or impossible to achieve. Stories like, “I will never be good enough for my parents,” or “I will succeed at my work only when I win award x or am published in the New Yorker,” or “I am a struggling artist.”

If we can identify the stories we are telling them we understand more about why we do what we do. If we tell ourselves empowering stories that can be sustained long term then it’s more likely we will have a positive impact in the world and be able to measure our success in realistic ways. For example, contrast the story I am a writer who struggles to be published because no one understands me with the story I am a writer who continues to seek out receptive audiences. Those two stories may be about similar experiences but one offers more hope than the other.

A sustainable story is one that has room for varied definitions of success and empowers us to continue to do what we love. It nourishes us because it is a story of value, worth and flexibility. There is room to be driven and room to take a break. A sustainable story is one we can engage in long-term, not just until the first roadblock.

It’s not a story of the lone hero who never errs, but of the human being who is supported, who can accept help and who succeeds in achievable steps. It’s about understanding that pulling the sword from the stone (finding purpose) is only the first step and that there are many detours along the way. Some of those detours may become the main story instead. By understanding the story we are telling ourselves about ourselves, and including allies and self-care, we are more able to keep going when things are tough. We are less likely to brand ourselves failures, but to give ourselves permission to fall down, get up and try again.

How do you keep going when you stumble? What tools do you use? What stories do you rely on?

CMG: I stumble often although it’s not always visible to people outside of my own mind because I am good at sucking it up and putting myself out there, even when I feel like shit, which is what the stumbling is often about. For better or worse, and especially since surviving cancer in 2002, I tend to get sick often. Because I love my work so much and have a hard time self-regulating or even knowing what not to do so that I have enough space and time for optimum health, I’ve become a reluctant student of self-care.

My old story was more along the lines of “You can never try hard enough,” and obviously, that’s a dangerous story when it comes to allowing the spaciousness needed for self-care and even self-love, let alone living a creative life. Yet, I’ve always had a conflicting story that’s the underground well for my poetry and other writing, and it has to do with loving the life force as it unfolds in the sky, land and moments of real love between humans and the more-than-human world. This story requires stopping, listening and watching, opening my senses and heart and letting myself be more vulnerable and permeable.

“This is enough” echoes me through a lot now, even when I have a pile of work on my computer screen. I tend to focus in on the next paragraph, next conversation and next email more than driving myself crazy with the whole of everything at once. I also try to remind myself that this moment—like right now when I’m writing, the brown dog is stretched out on the blue couch, a blue jay is hopping on the railing of the deck out the window, and I’m sipping tea—is as rich with the potential for loving life as any moment.

This is central to self-care, which feels like a part-time job that goes full-time as we age. When you’re working in the ways we are, it can be especially challenging because we often face feast-and-famine times (and income). I struggle to find and keep the best self-care for myself, which tend to include not eating so much sugar and doing a lot more yoga, swimming, walking, dancing and other ways of moving this body. But self-care can also manifest as going to a movie in the middle of the day, taking a bath (or, on a bad day, several), planting more hosta plants in a shady spot although the last ones I planted died, sitting in the corner with a magazine and cup of tea, making a luscious stir-fry, staring into the eyes of my dog, talking with my husband and friends, surfing Netflix, and taking one deep breath while watching the leaves unfurl on Cottonwood Mel, the big tree in my backyard that I named in memory of my father.

How do you see self-care, and how does it evolve, change, surprise you, and unfold in your life?

LP: It changes every day and is probably my biggest struggle. I often feel guilty about taking time for self-care, feeling instead as if I’m being lazy or avoiding the work. I also struggle to get back on track when I’ve been derailed by circumstances beyond my control. I frequently need to remind myself that when I’m depleted, my work will suffer. If my work suffers, then I am less able to help others. So taking time for myself is really a way to help others. Sometimes that’s the only way I can stop for a little while, by reminding myself that it’s not just for me.

Self-care for me can be reading a novel I’ve read before, one that isn’t particularly challenging. It can be going for a walk or moving my body in some other way. I recently hired a personal trainer to help me take better care of my body. I’m reminding myself that my mind and body are inextricably linked, so this is an investment in my work.

I get listened to. That’s a big source of self-care for me. I find a friend who I know won’t judge me and just whine for a little bit. Airing the self-pity helps me see how petty and insubstantial it is.

I take baths, I spend time with trees and rivers and (when I’m near it) the ocean. Sometimes I go to movies. I cook delicious, nourishing food.

I also try to set reasonable goals as a form of self-care. By breaking the big goals down into smaller parts I am giving myself tasks I can succeed at and I find success breeds success. That feels like self-care to me because I get to feel good about what I’m doing.

Self-care is constantly evolving. Paying attention to what is helpful at any given time takes work but is worth it. When I am well cared for it becomes easier to care for others through my actions and my work.

Lastly, when we care for ourselves it is easier to care for others. When we love ourselves, we love the world more easily. And really, that’s what we do as TLA artists. We love the world into seeing itself more clearly.

CMG: I love what you say about how when we’re well-cared for, we can better take care of others: an ethic of care, and really, of love for ourselves, our work, our people and place that fosters sustainability in how we and others live. I’ve been thinking lately about the term “social sustainability,” which also speaks to me of what we’ve been exploring in the bioregional movement for decades: how can we make and hold space to sustain our community and support each person’s unfolding conversation with what work and life calls to us?

Related to this for me has always been making things and ritual, which seem often like the same thing to me. There’s a kind of ceremony involved in surrendering my will to writing, designing a quilt, and especially working with groups to listen for and support the group’s collective heart and intelligence. I’ve been involved in many rituals that also bring in the arts, such as the water circle we do at the end of Kansas Area Watershed Council gatherings in which each person can step into the center, tell a story, say a poem, make a gesture, sing a song, and pour water from their home or travels.

TLA involves bringing together people to make greater meaning and unearth greater vitality in how we live. It helps us find—through our words, images, rhythms—our work in this life. Mary Oliver said in one of her poems, “My work is loving the world,” and I feel the same. What I actually do for a living and beyond is just a form of that ritual: practicing how to love the world.

Six Ways to Find the Work You Love — Read All About It!

Some of our first cohort group in the Right Livelihood Professional Training

Caryn Mirriam-Goldberg just published a piece on Medium all about how we can listen to our callings and find our life’s work. You can read it here, and you can learn more about the Right Livelihood Professional Training they’re leading through the TLA Network here. 

Also, please join Caryn with Laura Packer, who together are leading the TLA Right Livelihood Professional Training, for a Life and Livelihood Small Group training on March 23. It’s only $9.99, and you can ask your own burning question about what’s calling to you. Information here.

STARTING SOON The Five Senses and The Four Elements: Connecting With the Body and Nature Through Poetry–with Angie Ebba

We move our bodies through this world, experiencing it daily, but often not connecting with either the world or our selves in a conscious and intentional way. This six-week class will help us to slow down, breathe deeply, and experience our bodies in this world. Through a variety of readings and texts, online discussions, and creative writing exercises, participants will investigate what it means to be in their bodies in the natural world. 

Participants will be invited to engage in the natural world in whatever means possible for them – be that on a park bench in a busy city, through an apartment window in the suburbs, camping in a forest, walking through open fields, or working in a garden – and to embrace their bodies in their current state of being. Creative writing will focus on the senses of the body, the elements of nature, and the ways we can be more aware of those things in our daily life. We will explore these themes through various forms of poetry including traditional nature-based forms such as the bantu, haiku, and renga, as well as forms such as the pantoum, free verse, and communal writing.

Class begins on September 5th!

Register here

Read an interview with Angie here and find out more about the class!

About the Teacher

Angie Ebba is a queer disabled femme. As a writer, educator, activist, and performance artist, she believes strongly in the transformative powers of words and performance. She has taught writing workshops, presented, and done performances across the United States, including at the Body Love Conference. Angie is a poet published in Hematopoiesis Press, the Queering Sexual Violence anthology, several literary magazines, and her self-published blog and zines. She teaches writing workshops at Portland Community College, through the TLA Network, and also occasionally through her own website. Angie fully believes in the power of words to help us gain a better understanding of ourselves, to build connections and community, and to make personal and social change. Angie is currently working on writing and producing a one-woman multi-genre performance about the body and the soul. You can find Angie online at rebelonpage.com

The New Issue of Chrysalis is Here!

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On behalf of myself and the rest of the editorial collective, Roy Ringel, Iris Madelyn, Barb Burt, and Paula Grunthaner, we are so excited to share the latest issue of Chrysalis Journal of Transformative Language Arts with you!

Huge thanks to all of the TLA facilitators, practitioners and artists who submitted their amazing work to the journal!

Read Vol. 2, Issue 1 here 

 

Awakening the Dragon

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by Roy Ringel

Twenty-one years ago, the Dragon rose within my father’s body and killed him.
Two years ago, the Dragon rose within my mother’s body and killed her.
I remember how their spirits collapsed as they felt the Dragon’s teeth sink in…their resignation as they left me behind and then, walked alone into the darkness.

Last year, the Dragon rose within me.

Each day, I feel its burning teeth bite into me and yet I will stand in the face of my pain, my grief, and my fear. I will not yield. Instead…
I lower the shield of my anger and honor the rising wavelike voice of grief and the deep aching loneliness of being too afraid to trust; of being too afraid of my fear to feel my fear.

My grief for the shortness of life reawakens my love for this moment and, even in the midst of the Dragon’s burning breath in my body, helps me open my heart into the upwelling tsunami of fear. As I swim within my fear, there comes a beginning of compassion and so, perhaps, of a true courage.

In accordance with both modern physics and the teachings of Buddha, reality and how reality is shaped and unfolds, is essentially relational. So, what matters most is how honest and intimate I am with my pain, with my emotions and (of course) with my Dragon, as each moment flows into this endless present (or is it presence?).

• Such honesty arises from a persistent and intimate awareness.
• Such intimacy arises from the courageous compassion required to be truly open-hearted.
• Such courageous compassion arises from my honoring each experience as it appears.
So, I let my embodied spirit bow-in-respect to my pain, to my emotions and to my Dragon…as equals who face one another in my heart’s inner dojo. Thus, I honor all experience; I honor all beings; I honor the memory of my parents; and I honor myself. As I honestly engage in this intimate practice my experience transforms, thus transforming me, into someone…else.

Who might that be? Who is this self…who notices this Dragon bowing in response? The story of this awakening has no true ending, for every apparent ending is simply a new beginning.

Author’s note: This piece was written this past January (2018), while I was attending an online TLA workshop in pursuit of my TLA certification, and while I had just begun various treatments for cancer. The prompt given was “Turn something that frustrates, confounds, annoys, or disturbs you into a real or imaginary creature. Write the story of how you confine it, or become comfortable with it, or change it, or destroy it, or simply let it go. Illustrate your creative ideas, if you want.”

royAbout Roy Ringel:Roy has a Bachelor of Arts in English (Summa cum Laude) from the Lee Honors College of Western Michigan University and has practiced multiple forms of Swordsmanship and Martial Arts for over 40 years.  After retiring from a long career in nonprofit operations management (including Health Care, Education and Mental Health Services), he has become a poet, story-teller and writer of short stories and creative non-fiction as well as having recently received the following certifications:

  • Transformational Language Arts Foundations (Introductory Certification) – through the TLA Network
  • Professional Awareness Coaching – through the Institute for Professional Excellence in Coaching
  • Coach Mastery Training in Relational Awareness – through the Arbinger Coaching Network

He has a fundamental conviction in the power of narratives to transform lives and has begun to wonder whether or not we are all, each one of us, a story that we tell ourselves about who we think we are.
So he asks…what might happen when we change the narrative?”

 

The Art of Affirmation – Words and Pictures

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by Stefanie M Smith

One of the things that led me to looking at how powerful words can be in regard to someone’s mental health was discovering affirmation cards around 15 years ago. I was visiting a friend and needed to use her bathroom; tucked into the side of her mirror was an affirmation card, and there was another propped up on the windowsill. They were beautifully decorated and each had a positive phrase inscribed on it. I asked her about them and she explained that they were from a card deck produced by the late Louise L Hay. At the time, although I thought they were lovely I couldn’t really see how they could possibly be effective, but I was intrigued enough to want to learn more.

Now, a few years down the line, I am a great believer in the way that using positive affirmations can help to change a person’s outlook on things; but this is with the proviso that the person has a true connection with and a belief the words affirmation itself.
Like most people I’ve seen the many different products available that portray affirmations as the be all and end all to change your life. I may also be guilty of buying a pack of cards and then putting them somewhere to come back to later, only to rediscover them months down the line, still unopened and obviously having had no impact on my life other than perhaps my bank balance.

I have found the best way to actually get the benefit of positive affirmations into your life is to actively engage with them, and this, for me is where creativity comes into play. I love Art Journaling and creating Mixed Media artworks that incorporate positive thoughts and firmly believe that the process of creating them actually builds a greater resonance with the message they hold. The beauty with creating in this way is that you don’t have to share what you have created with anyone else, and it doesn’t matter what it looks like. Yes, there are many beautiful, and daunting examples all around the internet but please don’t let that put you off.

The process of creating art with a personal meaning in some way combines both sides of our brains, the left, more logical side and the right, more intuitive and creative side; I believe that this helps the positivity lodge more firmly within our thought patterns, therefore keeping the message closer to the surface.

A good way to get around any nerves or self-criticism about your creativity is to try something like collage or perhaps found poetry. You may want to buy a cheap pack of playing cards, paint one side a plain colour and then use cut out pictures and words from magazines to create a message that resonates with you; or you could find an old book in a second hall shop, pick a page at random and circle some words that stand out to you, draw connecting lines between those words and then black out or doodle across the rest of the page and you may surprise yourself with the meaning that comes through.

For those who really don’t wish to get involved with glue, paint and scissors; and I do realise that it isn’t for everyone; I would urge you to at least fully engage with the affirmations you use. Don’t leave a card in the same place for weeks on end until you no longer see it, set yourself a daily, weekly or fortnightly time when you pick a fresh affirmation, take some deep breaths and read it out loud several times, then place it somewhere where you can repeat this daily, pick it up, breathe and read it again; read it out with confidence and belief, and finally remember to love yourself.

(Editor’s Note: This is Stefanie’s fifth blog post in fulfillment of her Transformational Language Arts Certificate.)

stefanieStefanie M Smith, is a 47 year old former nurse and qualified hypnotherapist who has lived in Lincolnshire, UK, since childhood. Unfortunately in 2009 her health took a nosedive, and she now deals with fibromyalgia, depression and other chronic health conditions on a daily basis. During this enforced rest period, Stefanie has been able to re-ignite her love of the written word, especially poetry and will shortly having a selection of her poems published in an anthology. Having noticed a marked benefit to her health through her own writing practice, Stefanie is now re-training in the therapeutic and transformational uses of language with the aim of sharing this phenomenal tool with others.

Reframing Negative Experiences Through Role Play

by Stefanie M Smith

When looking at the transformative uses of language we usually focus on the potential for positive changes rather than the negative for obvious reasons. Recently however, I was in a situation when I was unable to avoid watching the negative aspects of language at work.

What was unfolding before me was narcissistic behaviour at play; one party in a relationship using negative language and actions to systematically demolish the other’s self-belief. It was obviously distressing to observe not only because I care deeply about the person being treated this way, but also because it was very triggering for myself as a survivor of psychological abuse.

I was observing the way in which negative speech flows over a person completely, looking for any little chinks or weaknesses, in the way water flows over stone looking for the weakest point to flow through. In a way it is like watching a mosaic being disassembled as tiny fragments that once made up the whole are broken away. At one point I was physically shaking which surprised me as I felt I had dealt with most of my shadow demons.

So how do I relate this to TLA practice? And how can I use language skills to improve my sense of well-being?

It felt almost as if I was watching my own mistreatment from above, and this distance allowed me to examine it more closely. I realised that the reason I had been unable to completely overturn the effects of my own psychological abuse was because they had bedded deeply within me, and whilst I felt that all the work had been done, in effect there was still a small nugget of damage lying within me; much like the Pea in the Princess’s bed and despite all the layers of work I’d done; much as the many mattresses the Princess slept upon; I was still suffering the discomfort.

Once I understood this, I decided the best way forward was to role play some of my past situations, and as I did so subtly change my responses. It’s really like the way that you only think of the smart retort just after the person you wanted to rebuff has walked away, only by role playing and rewinding the situation you can rewrite the experience that is left in your brain. Rather than just thinking ‘what if I’d said/done this’ by role playing you are actually saying/doing that in a way that your brain accepts as a new reality and makes you more able to react positively in similar situations in the future. It is a very similar process to cognitive reframing.

So that is exactly what I did. I first reviewed my past experiences and picked out the ones that still gave me a pang of regret or a bit of a jolt when I thought of them. I then found myself some quiet space and replayed them in my head, watching them unfold like a movie, when the triggering section appeared I watched it in my head, then rewound it to insert a more appropriate and assertive response. For example, when my ex would choose to belittle me just before guests were due to arrive, my usual response was just to hang my head and accept what he was saying rather than to challenge him and disagree; this was because I thought I could just ignore his words and in doing so not cause an atmosphere when our friends were there. In reality though the words had got inside me and begun to chip away at my self confidence. In my replay, rather than just back away from the situation, I chose instead to stand up for myself, look him in the eye and challenge his opinion of me.

It felt so empowering to take this stance as I went through each incidence of damage that had been done and systematically drawing it out and repairing each piece in turn, it was like finally becoming a Master Mason of my own self!

I would really recommend that you take the time to review some of your past interactions that may have left a negative impact on your self belief, and role-play them out to a more positive finale.

(Editor’s Note: This is Stefanie’s fourth blog post in fulfillment of her Transformational Language Arts Certificate.)

stefanieStefanie M Smith, is a 47 year old former nurse and qualified hypnotherapist who has lived in Lincolnshire, UK, since childhood. Unfortunately in 2009 her health took a nosedive, and she now deals with fibromyalgia, depression and other chronic health conditions on a daily basis. During this enforced rest period, Stefanie has been able to re-ignite her love of the written word, especially poetry and will shortly having a selection of her poems published in an anthology. Having noticed a marked benefit to her health through her own writing practice, Stefanie is now re-training in the therapeutic and transformational uses of language with the aim of sharing this phenomenal tool with others.

& They Call Us Crazy: Outsider Writing to Cross the Borders of Human Imagination-An Interview with Caits Meissner

Caits Meissner will be teaching the upcoming class, “& They Call Us Crazy: Outsider Writing to Cross the Borders of Human Imagination” 

In this creativity-generating workshop we’ll follow in the footsteps of genius eccentrics, outsiders and outlaws who’ve stepped beyond their perceived limitations, risking ridicule (and worse) to access their unique creative offerings — ultimately proving that what is outside the norm — and the academy — is often the most deliciously innovative and juicy.

caits2Here is a short interview with Caits about the class!

TLA Blog(TLA): Why might this class be important at this time in the world?

Caits Meissner(CM): Imagination is our most valuable asset in confronting systems of oppression, environmental crisis, and forwarding the evolution of our human community. In addition to systemic illness on a large scale, much of our inability to expand creative energy is due to the very small and time-consuming tasks of living. We are bogged down by the minutia of survival. Taking space to unlock the imagination can feel luxurious, but I believe it is also critical. How can we ever imagine a different way forward if we cannot unhook from what is long enough to allow the “crazy” thoughts to flourish, the innovative thoughts that stretch us beyond the confounding circumstances of being a person in 2018, beyond the conventions that keep us restricted and bound? Thinking “crazy” has been the bedrock of change in our society. Another word for it— usually when it has worked and we’re speaking in hindsight— is vision.

Will this course open channels in a participant’s brain that touches on the major issues of our time, providing viable solutions? Probably not (but who knows!) But I do think this practice of playful curiosity can unlock possibility within ourselves, and that is a worthy step. As creative people, we may be feeling both a deep desire and tremendous pressure to address the inequalities, inequities and human rights violations our era has surfaced in bold form. But we also know that the most affecting work often begins organically, when we stumble over a creative trip wire that switches on a new process of ideation. The mythology that creativity relies on lived freedom is incorrect— of time, of space, or mindset. Plenty of artwork has proven this theory null, created in the most repressive environments. Where there are humans, there is creative impulse, and I believe it may be more descriptively accurate to say the act of creation is a striving towards freedom. In a funny way, guided constraints can increase that feeling of freedom by providing a safe container in which to experiment.

I think of this course as a container where we might stumble upon what we’ve been trying to, or hoping to address through our work. It is also a space where the act of failing spectacularly is encouraged, without judging our work or expecting every engagement to produce project-worthy material. My friend Lynne said to me once — imagine how many seeds a tree releases. Thousands! Only a few become new trees. That’s the creative process as nature teaches us. In our ambition-driven society, it is easy to forget that, and to despair in the fear of not making work that outlives the moment of spontaneous expression. But aren’t we nature, too? Why should our creative birthing be any different from other forms of life in this vast kingdom we live in?

And honestly, who couldn’t use a rigorous creative engagement that takes us away from the droning news, the overwhelm of being confronted with our current human form? Who couldn’t use an infusion of a little joy and play and space and discovery?

​ Who couldn’t use a little self support in the form of grand creativity?​


TLA: How did you discover, learn about and experience the topic that you’ll be teaching?

CM: I grew up under the influence of parents who both worked with youth and adults with emotional, developmental and intellectual differences and disabilities— parents who view all people through the lens of capacity, contribution and supreme dignity. Through their work, I forged my own connections with artists with differing abilities, and​discovered creative processes that didn’t rely on a school degree to nudge something beautiful and affecting into existence. Often the artists were not concerned with what I thought of the work they created, nor did they obsess over the art career that might blossom “one lucky day​”​ if they just kept at it. That felt like a form of freedom. Raw spontaneity produced fresh, alive pieces that were unlike any other artist’s hand. It was incredibly informative to witness at a time when my hunger for recognition and career advancement was beginning to growl.​

Similarly, I’ve found many affecting and inspiring writers and writing birthed in prisons and needle exchanges. In these settings I found that expression often grew from a need to shake up the narrative created around worth, to write value back into selfhood, and to remind the world that in our quickness to discard an entire person, we lose out on their potential contributions— and certainly siphon off a part of our own humanity. The work often feels urgent, probing, and doesn’t wait for a stamp of approval from the gate keepers. In fact, it lights a match and burns down the gates. That’s the kind of artist I aspire to be.

Of course, children exhibit this freedom of expression with ease and joy before its pummeled out by adulthood’s demands and judgements. I am interested in the creative impulse that cannot be suppressed or snuffed out, the spark that is possible in all and any of us. That striving towards freedom. I became interested in artists who were not trained traditionally, but touched a deep chord in viewers. And of course, many of the artists we’ll be engaging with were trained, but managed to stretch beyond convention to drum up astonishing and gloriously strange creativity. This mix of study culls from my own collected curiosities about the creative process, and the artists who have inspired me. My background includes an undergrad degree in Communication Design from Pratt Institute and an MFA from City College of New York. Though I come from a trained process, my most profound learning moments have arrived in the community settings I’ve collaborated within. The prompts in this course draw on over 15 years of teaching and facilitating multimedia art and creative writing workshops in a wide variety of community and professional settings.

TLA: Who would benefit most from taking this class?

CM: Honestly, anyone looking to get messy and find something new! No one is under nor overqualified in this space. The idea is to fill up the notebook with the many seeds of creation, and to beckon the unexpected through the challenge of a strange new prompt, or by saying yes to an unfamiliar form. As I’m wrapping up two major projects, I will be engaging the course exercises myself, excited to see what arrives from giving it all a good shot. Truth be told, I find myself resistant to my own prompts! I understand that pushing past that resistance will be key in squeezing the most juice from the experience. Just writing this, I’m getting jittery with nerves about the potential discoveries revealed.

TLA: What can students in this class expect?

CM: To experiment and play. This is not a workshop, nor a space to bring work for critique. It is a wide open, generative space centered on the act of new creation. Every session will offer 5 artists to study with links to engage their work, and an article to read in connection. I recommend daily journaling on the prompts I offer that bounce off each artist’s works, but this will be a private process left to the participant to engage (or not.) A packet of poems for deeper reading launches from the thematic container we are loosely creating within. Then, 4-5 creative prompts are listed each week— writing, as well as other creative art-making. Depending on how the participant is moved to action, it might serve to give each a try as quick exercises, or to hone in on 1-2 to work on more intensively. The results of these experiments will be posted weekly. Participants will be expected to engage with the work of peers, but with a strict avoidance of critique. We’ll work from a framework of noticing, wondering and encouraging forward.

TLA: Why is it important to take risks in ones life?

CM: It is the only way we evolve, grow, move forward, shake out of complacency, create anything worth a damn. Though I will say this course is low stakes in the risk department. You have nothing to lose by participating, and everything to gain.

TLA: Where do you find the most inspiration?

CM: From other entities that create— other artists, children, the intricacies of the natural world. The quickest route to inspiration is to read a book that moves me. Sitting in silence brings forth conversations with friends that surface the need to translate what’s spoken to paper. Being relentlessly curious is the state I hope to become more present to. It’s the most fantastic and forgiving way to commune with the great mystery of life.

Register For Caits’s Class Here!

About the Facilitator: Caits Meissner is the author of the illustrated hybrid poetry book Let It Die Hungry (The Operating System, 2016), and The Letter All Your Friends Have Written You (Well&Often, 2012), co-written with poet Tishon Woolcock. The recipient of multiple artist residencies and fellowships, including the BOAAT Writers Retreat and The Pan-African Literary Forum, Caits is widely published in literary journals including The Literary Review, Narrative, Adroit, Drunken Boat and The Offing. She has taught, consulted and co-created extensively for over 15 years across a wide spectrum of communities, with a special focus on imprisoned people, women and youth. Caits holds a BFA in Communication Design from Pratt Institute, and an MFA in Creative Writing from the City College of New York. She currently serves as the Prison and Justice Writing Program Manager at PEN America.

Sparks! Free Webinar June 10th

Empowering Human-Trafficking Survivors: Facilitating Free2Write Poetry Workshops with Jennifer Jean

Sunday, June 10,2018

7 P.M. CENTRAL, 8 P.M.  EASTERN

Moderated by Kelly DuMar

We’re thrilled to welcome special guest, Jennifer Jean, to be our next SPARKS! feature on June 10. Jennifer is a poet, educator and activist who has been teaching poetry workshops to human trafficking and trauma survivors in order to empower them to tell their own stories in their own way. Kelly DuMar will interview Jennifer about her transformative language arts work with survivors, as well as ask Jennifer to read some of her own poems. This is an opportunity for TLA practitioners to learn and share best practices for working with survivors in writing groups and be introduced to Jennifer’s model for facilitating free2write workshops for survivors. Please bring a poem, story, or song to share in our open mic following the interview.

Sparks is a free bi-monthly webinar moderated by Kelly DuMar, interviewing notable Transformative Language Artists on their work, followed by a poetry, story & song open mic.

About Special Guest Jennifer Jean

Jennifer Jean is a poet, educator, activist, and consummate “literary citizen.” Her debut poetry collection is The Fool (Big Table); her poetry chapbooks include: The Archivist, and In the War. Jennifer’s newest manuscript, titled Object, was a finalist for the 2016 Green Mountains Review Book Prize. Other honors include: a 2018 Disquiet FLAD Fellowship; a 2017 Her Story Is residency, where she worked with Iraqi women artists in Dubai; a 2016 Good Bones Prize; and, a 2013 Ambassador for Peace Award for her activism in the arts. As well, her poetry has appeared, or is forthcoming, in: Poetry Magazine, Waxwing Journal, Rattle Magazine, Crab Creek Review, Denver Quarterly, Mud City Journal, Solstice, Pangyrus, and more. She is Poetry Editor of The Mom Egg Review, Managing Editor of Talking Writing Magazine, and Co-director of Morning Garden Artists Retreats. Jennifer teaches Free2Write poetry workshops to trauma survivors, and she teaches writing at Boston-area universities

Poetry Open Mic

And there’s more to share. Bring an original poem! This unique discussion and networking opportunity will be followed by a Poetry Open Mic. Everyone who participates in the teleconference is welcome to share an original poem. Whether you’re reading your poetry aloud for the first time, or you’re a seasoned reader, this is a chance to share your writing in the supportive presence of appreciative listeners. It’s a remarkably fun and moving experience.

Format of the Gathering

  • Kelly will interview Jennifer Jean for 30 minutes about her work with sex trafficking survivors and her poetry.
  • We’ll then have 10-15 minutes to ask questions and discuss TLA, your own practice, goals, or vision.
  • We’ll devote the next 15 minutes to the open mic
  • You don’t need to be a member of TLAN to participate!

Joining the Call on Zoom

Kelly will arrive on the video conference at 6:45 P.M. CENTRAL and 7:45 P.M. EASTERN so you can connect early & work out any glitches! You will receive links and numbers in your email after RSVPing.

About Kelly DuMar

Kelly DuMar is a poet, playwright and workshop facilitator from the Boston area. She’s author of two poetry chapbooks, All These Cures, (Lit House Press), and Tree of the Apple, (Two of Cups Press). Her poems, prose and photos are published in many literary journals including “Bellevue Review,” “Tupelo Quarterly,” “Poydras,” “Tiferet,” and more. Her award winning plays are produced around the US and are published by dramatic publishers. Kelly founded and produces the Our Voices Festival of Women Playwrights at Wellesley College, now in its 12th year, and leads a variety of workshops for writers across the US, including The Mass. Poetry Festival, The International Women’s Writing Guild, The Power of Words Conference, Mass. Poetry Festival, the New England Theatre Conference, Playback Theatre North America Conference, and Winter Wheat.  She’s on the board & faculty of The International Women’s Writing Guild and produces the IWWG Summer Conference Play Lab and the Annual Boston Regional Writing From Your Life Retreat. Closer to home, she facilitates a weekly writing workshop for women, the Farm Pond Writer’s Collective, now in its third year. Kelly is a certified psychodramatist and a Fellow in the American Society for Group Psychotherapy & Psychodrama. You can follow Kelly’s daily nature blog, “#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream,” and join her mailing list at kellydumar.com