Cindy on December 5th, 2009
“The holiest of all holidays are those kept by ourselves in silence and apart; the secret anniversaries of the heart.” — Henry W. Longfellow
More than 24 years ago, my ob-gyn predicted I’d have a Christmas baby, give or take a few days. The doctor wasn’t too far off the mark, really, since Nate was born on December 6th, the feast day of St. Nicholas.
Known as the Bishop of Myra (now Turkey) in the 4th century, St. Nicholas earned his reputation for secret gift-giving by putting coins in the shoes of those who left them out for him. Word of his generosity echoed throughout the centuries. According to one legend, medieval nuns honored the eve of December 6th by anonymously placing baskets of clothing and food on the doorsteps of the needy. And not surprisingly, St. Nicholas was the role model for Victorian England’s merry Father Christmas. Outdoing the three wise men of the Nativity, the original St. Nick can be credited for establishing Christmas as the season of gifting.
Feast days aside, I remember the day my son was born as though it were yesterday, thanks in part to a three-page “birth report” I’d been assigned to write after returning home from the hospital.
Everyone in my final Lamaze class was instructed to write such a report in less than two weeks after giving birth. (Sleepless nights and postpartum depression were no excuse.) We were told to record every detail we remembered, every emotion we felt, as accurately as possible. Keeping us honest, the instructor insisted that we mail her a copy on deadline. At first, the whole thing seemed like a cruel homework assignment; another task to juggle between midnight feedings. Now, I appreciate it as the gift it was meant to be.
Back then I wasn’t comfortable typing my feelings on paper — especially feelings that were new and raw and deeply personal. Up until then, I’d been writing newspaper stories about art gallery openings and local hamburger joints. Regardless, I took up the challenge. I recorded the hour my water broke (I was watching Bill Bonds on the 11:00 news); the snowy drive to the hospital; the waves of contractions I surfed after my labor was induced. I confessed the irrational fears and worries I’d nursed prior to delivery. I wrote that I was grateful to be fully awake during the birth, and grateful that I was able to witness the miraculous first moment when Doug, Nate, and I became a family:
I recall the medicinal smell, the colors, the faces, and sounds in the delivery room, and even though there had been no time for the nurses to get the mirror up above me for the delivery, I loved being able to turn my head and see Nathan wiggling on the table right next to me, and to have my husband on the other side of me….
While I didn’t realize it at the time, the birth report was my first real attempt at a personal essay. It’s riddled with too many adverbs, and weighted with TOO MANY WORDS IN CAPS for emphasis. Parts of it sound wooden and clinical. Even so, it’s one of the most important pieces of writing I’ve ever done, and today I keep it with a collection of precious letters in my writing office.
Nate hasn’t been home for his birthday in several years. While it took a little time to adjust to his absence during and after his college years, I’m at peace with the fact that our lives are moving ahead just as they should. Nate has his own place in Chicago now, and he travels to other parts of the country for his job. His dad and I are fiercely proud of him for having crafted a remarkably good life for himself.
So we celebrate his birthday a few days early when he returns to Detroit for Thanksgiving. And after he heads back to Chicago, we still honor the ritual of mailing another birthday card and another small gift (maybe something from the cats) that will hopefully arrive in his mailbox on or near December 6th.
St. Nicholas Day is my birthday too. It’s the day I was born into motherhood, the most rewarding work on my resume. Once in a while, when I’m alone at my desk, I’ll open the file where I keep the faded blue envelope scrawled with the words “Birth report.” I unfold the pages and reread favorite parts, still amazed by the gift of a day it describes. – Cindy La Ferle
Cindy on May 8th, 2009
The creative space is the place where no one else has ever been. You have to leave the city of your comfort and go into the wilderness of your intuition. What you’ll discover will be wonderful. What you’ll discover is yourself. — Alan Alda
The “Summer at the Center” catalog just rolled off the press, listing a variety of creative classes at the Birmingham Bloomfield Art Center. Of special interest to suburban-Detroit writers will be the Writer’s Retreat series, which includes my weekend workshop in writing and publishing short personal essays on June 20 and 21. This will be a relaxed workshop, with plenty of encouragement and writing time. Weather permitting, I hope we can spend some of the time outdoors.
From songwriting to screenwriting, this new series offers several classes for both new and experienced writers. Concluding the summer series on August 8, the “Writer’s Life” afternoon forum gives new and aspiring writers an opportunity to discuss the realities of freelance writing with a panel of Detroit-area journalists and editors. (I’ll be on hand to moderate the panel.)
Space is limited, so you’ll want to register for your classes soon. The summer catalog is now available at the BBAC, or click here to check out the PDF version. Copies of Writing Home will also be available for students to purchase in the BBAC Gift Shop. For class fees and additional info, contact the BBAC, — CL
–”Imagine” garden stone photo by Cindy La Ferle–
Cindy on March 3rd, 2009
“Planning to write is not writing….Writing is writing.” — E. L. Doctorow
Ready to start writing this spring? Limited space is available in my April workshop, First Person Singular. Whether your goal is to write for pleasure or publication, this three-week personal essay class will help you conquer your fear of self-expression and flex your creative storytelling skills. (Registration deadline: March 25.) If you live in Oakland County, please visit my newly updated “Workshops” section for dates and details on this and upcoming writing workshops. — CL
Cindy on November 17th, 2008
By learning you will teach. By teaching you will learn.” — Latin proverb
Last week I started leading one of my favorite personal essay series, aptly titled “Writing Your Heart Out.” I should admit upfront that I don’t believe anyone can “teach” another person how to write — but I do think we can help each other give birth to the stories inside us.
Though I’ve been hosting variations of this particular workshop for several years, I’m always touched, inspired, and re-energized by the students taking it.
New writing students never fail to surprise me with their fresh enthusiasm and insight. I’m awed by the beauty of what they write — and I know it takes courage to share their work with strangers in a classroom. Many are stuggling to find time to write, and a few would give anything to quit their day jobs in exchange for full-time writing careers. They remind me that having time for personal expression is truly a gift. –CL
– For a schedule of my workshops, please visit the “Workshops” section. –
Cindy on June 4th, 2008
Lately I’ve been hearing from a lot of readers who are new to my work. If you stumbled on something I wrote elsewhere and liked it enough to stop by, I’m happy you did!
I’m a card-carrying homebody and freelance writer who’s always on the lookout for the sacred in the suburban. I’ve traveled extensively in this country and abroad — only to find that my quirky hometown is the absolute coolest place to be. Last year, I was appointed to my local public library‘s first honorary Writer-in-Residence position, which means I get to fulfill my longtime dream of sharing my favorite books and the craft of writing with others in my community.
Focusing primarily on home, family, and women’s issues, I specialize in personal essays and lifestyle columns. Early in my journalism career, I worked for a reference book publisher and freelanced for several publications. I also spent six years editing a small bed-and-breakfast travel magazine.
After writing a weekly “slice of life” column for 12 years for our local daily newspaper, I discovered that personal columns and essays were the perfect vehicle for reaching others who were also looking for the beauty in the ordinary; the truth in everyday experience. It was one of the best assignments I’ve ever had. For one thing, I could do most of the writing at home while my only child was in grade school. Secondly, the weekly deadlines challenged me to look beyond newsworthy events for small miracles and epiphanies in my daily efforts.
Weeding my perennial garden, for instance, I would suddenly unearth an early memory of my grandparents’ backyard in Detroit. Baking bread in my kitchen while U.S. military forces bombed Baghdad, I renewed my commitment to being a peacemaker in my own community. And while recovering from two major surgeries, I realized how many of life’s fundamental gifts and simple pleasures I had taken for granted.
I live in a 1920s Tudor-style home on a boulevard where the trees are as old as the houses, and the houses always need some renovation or repair. But everyone here appreciates character — in houses and people. I work in a small room — yes, a real home office — with a nice view of the neighborhood. And while I like to think of it as a room of my own, the truth is, I share it periodically with my husband, son, and two cats.
I’ve always believed that the personal is the political, and that what happens in our own homes has a ripple effect on the rest of our world. I write daily to discover what I believe, how I think. And I’m truly grateful for the opportunity to reach others who are also struggling to fit all the pieces together.
My essays and feature stories have appeared in over 50 different publications, from Catholic Digest to Reader’s Digest to Writer’s Digest. Through my inspirational writings, I’ve met a lot of wonderful people from many different faiths who cherish their families and boast an abiding respect for community. My goal is simple: To continue a dialogue with these people, adding what I hope will be a supportive voice on the journey. I post new essays at least once a week in addition to random blogs or updates on my Writer-in-Residence programs. So please come back often — and let me know what you think in the comment space, or send me an e-mail. – Cindy La Ferle
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A favorite quote: “How we spend our days is how we spend our lives.” -- Annie Dillard
