I waited in the front yard at dusk for the newspaper man to kick up dust on graveled Main as he threw the Kansas City Star into the yard. I’d rip off the string and run inside as fast as I could to have my favorite comic strip read to me, usually by my mother, but sometimes by my father or grandparents. I was impressed that they all could read. I’d sit on a lap and learn a few more new words as I was cracking the reading code.

For Christmas I got Alice in Wonderland (with the Tenniel illustrations), read it over and over, memorized long passages, and was mesmerized by the intoxicating smell of its pages. (That’s another book I’m looking for in the boxes).

From the time I could read a sentence, I read everything I could get my paws on: books, cereal boxes, and “do not remove” tags on pillows. I was certain life could hold no higher pleasure than to be carried away by words.

My father held my hand as we walked up the marble steps to the Carnegie Public Library (“Free to All”) in the next town to get my first library card. He was fond of arranging happy surprises, so I’d never seen the library and didn’t know what a library card was. I was dazzled by the curving staircases and the big hole in the ceiling that led to the second of three stories. A palace filled with books, and I could check out as many as I could carry. Both of us with arms filled.

In my sixteenth summer, my mother said to me, “Close your eyes and hold out your hand. From what I’ve heard you say, I think you might like this.” Gone with the Wind caught me by surprise, and I read steadily, cover to cover without putting the book down. At mealtimes, my mother put sandwiches in my hand. No one told me to turn out the light to sleep now, to do my chores, to shower, to come to the dinner table, or to practice the piano.

Was it two or three days that I read without stopping? I Don’t remember, but I was allowed to sleep all day after I finished the book, tired, but happy and satisfied, having lived a whole different life story than my own.

 Now in my sixty-sixth summer, I pick up Lisa Kogan’s Someone Will Be with You Shortly, and I don’t want to put it down, either. I had so many plans for this day, but they’re all shoved aside now as I’m caught up in the story of a single mother and writer living in Manhattan.

 Laugh-out-loud funny. Love and loss and wisdom and flippancy and joy and stress and longing. When I finished the chapter about the regret of not having listened to her grandmother and learning to listen to her daughter, I was so moved that I had to put the book down to write this post.

 I was relieved to know that I’d only finished 43% of the Kindle version and there was a good chunk of pages yet to come.

 Thank you, Lisa Kogan for reminding me that the first duty of love is to listen.

Am I exaggerating? You tell me.

In the most horrible of meetings, I’d usually just hunker down and pretend to pay attention while doodling on a legal pad. Try to stay out of any disputes. Just grin and bear it. Tell myself, “This too shall pass.”

The organization was undergoing changes of management, and of course, politics being what they are with each faction warring with the other, there was a lot of bitter conflict among the staff. The daily meetings were agony, just watching the barbed looks and vitriol shot across the room. Nobody wanted to go to them.

Here’s a solution some friends and I dreamed up:

A few of us decided that maybe a therapy dog would calm everybody down and bring a certain je ne sais quoi into the proceedings.

“No, no, no, strictly against the regulations. Not sanitary, you know. Germs, ugh.”

Okay, so what could we do to make those meetings at least bearable? We came up with our own therapy dog. “Let’s see, we’ll name him Pal. He’s a really good, happy dog, generally well behaved. He might be big, he might be little, he might be shaggy, he might be sleek, but we’ll train him well.

Whenever someone said something reasonable or compassionate, Pal would go to his or her side and wag his tail. But if things got ugly, Pal would be dispatched to the perpetrator of bad vibes to lift his leg. In really tough cases, we’d have to send Pal over to bite someone who just wouldn’t play nice with the other boys and girls.

The few of us who created Pal so loved deploying him here and there that it made the meetings wildly funny for those of us in the know. Now we’d be eager to get to the conference room and get a good seat to watch the dynamics flying around the room.

All it would take would be a tiny bit of eye contact, a subtle roll of the eyes, and a slight motion of the head to launch Pal into action. Those meetings became the most fun in town, well mostly. That’s a slight exaggeration, maybe, but when things would heat up, I’d think: Just say it, Buster. That’s fine. Just be nasty, but you’ll have Pal on your hands, or rather on your pant leg.

 So if things get hairy in your meetings (or in other situations), you could always call in the ubiquitous Pal, the amazing, invisible therapy dog.

How do you handle meetings you’d rather not attend? I’ll bet you’ve got some great stories and solutions to share with us. Do tell!

Those stories encouraged me to become a person interested in almost everything at one time or another, from archaeology and botany to x-rays and zoology. The natural, physical world and a lot in the invisible realms. World literature, the human condition—heart, mind, and soul—all of it. My curiosity knows no limits. Like my family, I’ve been a collector of books, music, hand-made objects, and beautiful things I’ve found in nature: smooth stones, sticks, feathers. Now that my hair is whiter and my glasses thicker, I’ve amassed an amazing amount of stuff. And of course, I would end up marrying a man with the same interests and similar collections. Put them together, and what you’ve got is stuff, a lot of stuff.

All those childhood stories gave me permission to become a generalist, not a specialist. A fox, not a hedgehog. That’s just who I am and what I came here to do. I’d have to agree heartily with E. M. Forster who wrote: “My defence at any Last Judgement would be that I was trying to connect up and use all the fragments I was born with.” So, on good days, I call myself a Renaissance woman. Other days, well, I’m scattered, that’s what I am, especially now that I’m working from home instead of from my downtown office and am sorting through dozens of boxes of books and papers.

Having so many varied interests means I’ve never become a concert pianist, a ballerina, a Nobel Prize winning scientist, or even a rock star. I’m not the least bit famous (and glad of it).

In my early years as a teacher, I had the pleasure of watching young adult minds connect with some of the most powerful ideas in the world through books and film. Later, as a professional listener, I have sat many an hour with people who are “writing” their new life stories, and I have agonized with those still clinging desperately to their old, painful life stories. It’s also no secret that I’m a huge fan of writing/journaling for a variety of purposes and what I now call “Beyond Journaling.”

So I know a little something about a few things, and in some quarters, I’m actually considered quite an authority, maybe because of all the fancy letters after my name. I’m called in to consult on difficult cases, and I’m a woman who can at least ask juicy questions, even if I don’t possess the answers that lie deep within the heart of a client. In addition to my psychological studies, I can also offer healing and inspirational metaphors and stories gleaned from a lifetime of reading and film, not to mention the stories from my family.

In my early childhood, my mother’s stories often centered around events in her past, and especially about the most wonderful thing in the world called college, where she and Daddy met. Then there were her stories about college future. Her stories often began with phrases like “Before you go to college,” and “After you graduate from college,” and “When you’re in college.” She assured me there were plenty of stories there, so the college plan was fine with me.

To get a bedtime story from Daddy, on the other hand, I’d have to bring him the huge, magic book of stories. It was so big I could barely lift it to carry it to him. He’d tuck me in, I’d get settled comfortably, he’d open the book to a certain page (it often took several minutes for him to find the exact page he wanted), and begin the tall and exciting tales. Heroes, battles, vast epics, rare books, ancient wisdom, mythology, astronomy, philosophy, biology—everything under the sun.

I didn’t always understand everything in the stories, but he’d explain, and I’d say “Oh, that’s it. Now I understand.”

Not all the stories rhymed, but some of my favorites did, such as “Heather Ale,” “The Cremation of Sam McGee,” and “Horatius at the Bridge.” Carried away by the heroism of the last story, sometimes he’d stand and gesture with one hand as he declaimed, “Oh Tiber, father Tiber, to whom the Romans pray: A Roman’s life, a Roman’s arms, take thou in charge this day!”

I worshipped that book that contained such a treasure of knowledge, humor, and wisdom. Even more amazing was that all the stories on those clean, white pages were written in invisible ink that only Daddy could read.

Would that I could find that book now with its blank pages and the green cloth binding. Yes, it’s a real book, not an imaginary one. Maybe it will turn up some day in the boxes of books and papers I’m now struggling with. I can only hope and keep digging through the stuff, stuff, stuff.

So what will I blog about? No subject will be off-limits, but I’ll write about what I know—whatever’s currently in front of my face or on the front-burner of my mind. Like this morning a luna moth and a lumpy, full-of-mice black snake on the deck overlooking the woods. Books I’ve just read or am contemplating. Connecting and reconnecting with dear friends (including the ones I haven’t yet met), and always: stories and stories about stories. Memories of childhood, and something approaching a memoir, but I’m certain my mind will roam far and wild.

Wish me luck in finding that magical book of stories and in settling into my latest and most surprising new life story (more about that later). And welcome to my world.

Feedback and comments are always appreciated, and I’ll do my best to answer each one.

So how about you? What place do stories hold in your life? And how do you wrangle your stuff, stuff, stuff into just nice, organized stuff?

Is it a set of philosophical or spiritual beliefs and practices? A path you’ve carved out for yourself or one given to you by a teacher?

As the saying goes, “When the student is ready, the teacher appears,” whether that be an actual person or a series of life lessons presented to you.

According to Greek mythology, a hero follows a thread.

As told by Joseph Campbell in The Hero with a Thousand Faces, the legend goes like this: King Minos of Crete had successfully waged war with the Athenians. He then demanded that, at seven-year intervals, seven Athenian boys and seven Athenian girls were to be sent to Crete to be devoured by the Minotaur, a half-man half-bull creature who lived in a labyrinth created by Daedalus, a cunning craftsman. One version has it that Daedalus had constructed the labyrinth so cunningly that he himself could barely escape it after he built it.

Theseus, a king of Athens volunteered to slay the monster. Out of love for Theseus, King Minos’ daughter, Ariadne, consulted Daedalus who told her to give Theseus a ball of string so he could find his way out once he had gone into the labyrinth. She also returned a sword to him.

As soon as Theseus entered the labyrinth, he tied one end of the ball of string to the door post and brandished the sword he had hidden inside his tunic. Theseus followed Daedalus’ instructions given to Ariadne: go forwards, always down and never left or right. Theseus came to the heart of the labyrinth and also upon the sleeping Minotaur whom he killed. He then used Ariadne’s thread to escape the labyrinth and return to safety.

Stephen Spielberg considered Joseph Campbell his teacher and mentor, and he used the hero’s journey as a model for his Star Wars series.

In one of the films, Luke Skywalker fights with Darth Vader, knocking off Vader’s helmet. What he finds is his own likeness: a suggestion that, at the heart of the matter, Luke’s true battle is with himself.

It has been said that our one and only task is to master ourselves, to make peace with that self.

In Campbell’s words: “The flax for the linen of his thread he has gathered from the fields of the human imagination. Centuries of husbandry, decades of diligent culling, the work of numerous hearts and hands, have gone into the hackling, sorting, and spinning of this tightly twisted yarn.

Furthermore, we have not even to risk the adventure alone; for the heroes of all time have gone before us; the labyrinth is thoroughly known; we have only to follow the thread of the hero-path… where we had thought to slay another, we shall slay ourselves; where we had thought to travel outward, we shall come to the center of our own existence; where we had thought to be alone, we shall be with all the world.”

Don’t you love the maps found in large shopping malls or office complexes? The first thing you see is the circle with the X inside it saying “You are here.”

“Oh,” you say, “This is where I am, so now I know which direction to turn to get to where I want to be.”

Without the knowledge of where you are, you can’t know how close or far away you are from your destination. Just so, it’s important to know where you are in the great scheme of things in life. This question presupposes that you know something about the big picture and something about your destination (destiny).

And within these questions: “Who am I?”

My mother always told me, “Just be yourself, and you’ll be fine.” But who is that self? And how do you find out?

Questions, questions. When you’re searching for truth, what you often find first are questions to be explored if not answered definitively. Your answers may change and grow from time to time.

“The unexamined life is not worth living,” said Socrates. And behind that statement?

Well, that assumes you have a life to begin with. That means you have to live life first in order to examine it. If it is true that the unexamined life is not worth living, then it follows that the unlived life is also not worth examining.

Aspiring writers and actors are often told, “First, you have to live.” You have to have something to write about and experiences to draw upon.

Thoughtful and juicy questions may be one of the best ways to explore and examine your life to allow you to fully live and appreciate the life you have here and now, rather than wishing for some other place or some other life. This is what you have. Now is what you have. Here is what you have. Work with what you have.

If you’re in the here and now, just look about you. Be here. Be now. Describe what you see, feel, smell, taste, hear, touch. You’ll soon enough find plenty to think about and write about, plenty to ponder.

Formal writing prompts and jump-start quotations can also be brilliant food for thought. And why do they appeal to you? Because they’ve acted as an entrance into your own inner life. Something within you resonated with what you found in someone else’s experience.

Reading biographies, memoirs, autobiographies, and fiction can help you to explore your own life stories, both old and new. Can help you re-interpret your past stories to use them as building blocks for your new paths.

You learn that you are not alone in all the world. You no longer have to remain “a stranger in a strange land.” You can find at least one other story that is remarkably like your own. You learn that others have faced and surmounted the same challenges that you do. “The way is thoroughly known,” wrote Joseph Campbell. You are not the first to tread this path, to make this journey.

And those who have gone before you have left maps. They have pointed out the rocks, crevasses, mountains, dangerous swamps and quicksand. They can inspire you to a new level of living. By showing you what peace and happiness they have attained. They can teach you if you will read, listen, and be open to learning.

Be teachable.

Practice beginner’s mind at whatever stage you find yourself, and you may find that one or more “maps” buried in your library, bookstore, or Internet sites will both show you the big picture and say to you, “You are here.”

***

Great List of Personal Development Blogs:

From Gretchen Rubin’s post on her wonderful Happiness Project blog, I learned of a list of the top blogs in the personal development field. These are 65 of the most-read of blogs that offer regular, practical, and usable information. Check it out at:

http://www.pluginid.com/personal-development/

Connection makes life rich. To have happy and nurturing connections is to live a life of joy and fulfillment. Easily said, but sometimes difficult to do. One of the best ways to connect with someone is to listen. Listen with all the resources at your disposal.

That means not interrupting. Paying good attention (not reading the newspaper or playing video games), giving eye contact and “squaring off,” facing another person directly, not looking over your shoulder. You might want to draw the other person out by asking “Is there more?” or “Can you tell me more about that?”

When Frank and I met 16 years ago, one of the first and most important things I noticed about him was how intently and acceptingly he listened to me with his whole being. He mirrored my feelings on his face and provided a comfortable “container” for me to open up and be myself. It was a wonderful, comfortable feeling.

When someone is angry with you, good listening alone can often restore the peace. Just hear the person out. Let them express their feelings freely. Wait. Let the anger dissipate. Only then do you say what you want to say. Give them several chances to get the anger out until it’s exhausted.

And the same with someone who is upset or anxious. Listening is a healing balm. Often that’s the main thing someone wants from you. A good listening.

I grew up with an extended family who all listened to me, and I am privileged to be able to listen to my sister, Charla, as she inspires me by walking courageously and confidently through her cancer testing and treatment. She has granted me the boon of phoning in updates as soon as she gets any new piece of information. Consults, second opinions. Waiting for a surgery date.

It’s the least I can do for her, or perhaps one of the most important things.

To live in a world of connectedness is to live in a world of friendship and love. As theologian Paul Tillich wrote, “The first duty of love is to listen.”

Suddenly nothing is the same.

A new life story for us both as we walk this new path. I want to be with her (at least in spirit) and support her as much as possible. How can I be most helpful? What can I do? I can’t do what I most want to do: to take this illness from her.

She’s handling this better than I am, going through the consultations and tests, preparing for surgery, building a team of specialists around her. Her determination, optimism, and gratitude inspire me. We’ve talked about “wake-up calls.” She said the word “immediately” came to her early in this process: that her life will change immediately, that she wanted to do some things differently—immediately.

So her situation is a wake-up call for me, too. An unexpected new life story begins. This was not how things were “supposed” to happen. I’m four years older, so I should go through experiences before she does. But life often doesn’t happen as it “should.”

I had become complacent in this new life story in the woods. Beautiful and affectionate stray dogs have adopted Frank and me. I have found a way to work on my own, at my own pace. We’ve enjoyed the peace and quiet of country living. We’re happy, content, grateful. We’ve had a routine, a sense of having achieved a nearly perfect life, if there is such a thing. We’ve achieved so many goals, and my fondest wish has been for this story to continue in this vein for as long as possible. We worked and planned and visualized our current new life story.

I have also known and experienced the fact that life can change in a moment. A serious rear-end collision in 1989 changed my life forever, a chance encounter put Frank and me together, and a phone call from a colleague brought me a whole new way of working.

What is now? My now has changed. The old definition of new: since we moved from the city to the country. The new now: since Charla’s diagnosis.

The future is strange and unknown. Who knows what changes will result from these latest events? The future reveals itself in a moment-by-moment process. I’m not a leaf drifting in the wind, so I have some say in what constitutes this new life.

Everything is up for re-evaluation. Among several decisions I’m wrestling with is a renewed dedication and a change for this blog. I want to devote more time to it, and I want to include more immediately useful information for my readers. I’m now in the process of uploading previous newsletters to the archives, and I want to get those new newsletters out as soon as possible, as soon as some issues with servers and technical details are resolved.

I want to put my years and years of experience to work in a wider way. This month, my blog readers have come from 57 different countries. I love the idea of being a citizen of the world. I’ve been helping people write (or metaphorically write) their own new life stories for many years.

If not now, when? If not here, where?

Let us see how this blog will evolve into a more immediately useful form. Aren’t we all on a path, an open road in one sense or another? Walt Whitman wrote about the open road, and his words remind me that none of us is free until all of us are free:

“Afoot and light-hearted, I take to the open road,
healthy, free, the world before me,
The long brown path before me, leading wherever I choose.

Henceforth I ask not good-fortune—I myself am good fortune;
Henceforth I whimper no more, postpone no more, need nothing,
Strong and content, I travel the open road.

The earth—that is sufficient;
I do not want the constellations any nearer;
I know they are very well where they are;
I know they suffice for those who belong to them.

(Still here I carry my old delicious burdens;
I carry them, men and women—I carry them with me wherever I go;

I swear it is impossible for me to get rid of them;
I am fill’d with them, and I will fill them in return.)

You road I enter upon and look around. I believe you are not all that is here;
I believe that much unseen is also here.”

So the way opens before me and before us all. Let us “greet the unseen with a cheer.”

Sometimes a new life story develops gradually, growing and gaining strength beneath the surface. “Roads not taken” often do that. For one reason or another you consciously take a path and leave others untaken, then over the course of months or years, that path reappears, often in a different form giving us undreamed of possibilities.

Sometimes a new life story “happens itself upon us” in an instant. A chance meeting, a letter, a phone call, a change in a relationship, an illness, a promotion, and suddenly everything is different. Everything up for re-evaluation. New decisions to make. New paths to explore. The unknown to wrestle.

At such times, a journal can be your best friend. Write to know what you think and feel. “How do I know what I think until I see what I say?” wrote E. M. Forster. Just explore your now. What is it like? What seems like a reasonable next step?

One way to use a journal for new life stories is to explore “what ifs?” in imagination. What would it be like if…” How will I cope with…? If you write several scenarios, you will have covered all the known bases. Sometimes this kind of writing is like blazing paths before us, making possible what has been improbable or impossible. Writers often do this in writing new paths. It is as if they are consciously or unconsciously laying out a new road to travel in their novels, then their personal life often follows along the trail blazed by the fiction.

How to know when a new life story is beginning? Ask your deepest and highest self by asking in your journal. Talk to friends and people you trust. Be open to the goodness the universe has to offer, no matter in what form it arrives.

As Robert Browning wrote, “Greet the unseen with a cheer.”

EM: When did you know you would become a writer? Were there any precise turning points you remember?

TL: I was the geeky kid who always enjoyed writing assignments in school and would write extra-long essays about everything. I was always opinionated and loved to express myself on paper. Many experiences in life whet my appetite as a writer. When I was 10 years old, my parents gave me a Mattel printing press, and I was printing my own newspaper with neighborhood gossip. Other little girls were pushing their cute buggies, and I was editing a newspaper.

I was always in love with the rhythm of words and how they seemed to dance with life when they hit the page. Though some teachers inspired and encouraged me, I never had to be sold on words or pushed to read. I think reading is always the beginning of writing because if you can feel the magic of words you truly become hooked.

I’m a word-aholic, and it’s an addiction that has given me solace throughout my life.

EM: When did you first say to yourself, “I’m a writer!”?

TL: Writing is such a part of my soul and my “being” I never really had to say, “I’m a writer.” It just happened. I know I’m a writer because I always felt empty during the few moments in my life I didn’t write. Writing is a life force. It is an immutable part of who I am.

Writers are always seeking the truth and looking deep inside themselves. Like it or not, writing is a soul-changing experience. I guess I’ve been a writer as long as I’ve been a truth seeker. The writer part of my soul is continually curious, always trying to process and render meaning from my life experiences.

Though honesty is a big component of writing, I believe that beauty is also a function of art. If you have the gift of words, I think you can bring beauty and meaning to the human experience. You can motivate, empower and uplift others. That is not a responsibility I take lightly.

EM: To what extent were you nurtured in your writing by your family, teachers, mentors, writing groups?

TL: My high school journalism teacher, Betsy Ross, encouraged me to hone my skills and make a living as a writer. She was always kind to my stories and respected that student writers had a “voice” in their writing that shouldn’t be silenced. Occasionally, I linked up with writing groups, but I always found I worked the best independently. I am much more of an individualist than a collaborator.

Ironically, I am a social person who loves to converse with complete strangers, but when I am writing a story, I try to listen to the stillness in my brain and just pay attention to the words. However, I don’t believe writers should live in isolation. You do need life experience to write about it. So I am always torn. I have a side that is social and loves people and a solitary side that is perfectly content to work, think and create alone.

During one point in my life I was part of an artists’ salon group that was extremely cool. We had no set agenda, no power struggles. We were just a bunch of creative people meeting to offer one another support and to talk about the issues that matter to us and our art.

I found this interaction with writers and visual artists extremely stimulating, emboldening and enlightening. Artists become stale quickly if they remain cut off from the rest of the world. It is always good to step out of your comfort zone and learn from others, not just artists, but everyday people.

EM: What are the benefits of participating in salon/discussion groups?

TL: Creative people are often “driven” and have quirky personalities. We are not always understood by others. It is inspiring and comforting to be supported and nurtured by others in the same boat. Your peers can advise you and offer you fresh perspectives.

In a salon group, you have the freedom to engage in bold experimentation. Creativity is creativity. Visual artists can write poems. Writers can paint pictures. When you exercise different parts of your brain, you see the world you are writing about with all of your senses. You become more passionate about your own work. It stirs your juices to see what other artists are doing.

I enjoyed the lively discussions and philosophical debates. I believe conversation has become a lost art. We live in a computer age where language has often been reduced to instant messages, inane text messages and dumbed down computer speak. Philosophical debates have a long and respected tradition that dates all the way back to Socrates. It is essential to keep growing, pushing and questioning as an artist.

EM: How do your experiences as a teacher nurture or inspire you?

TL: Of course, it is always fulfilling to give others the building blocks to find their own creative gifts, but there is a great self-ish pay-off. Whenever you teach, you have a chance to hone your skills as a writer because you are constantly thinking about your own creative process and what drives you as an artist. When I’m helping students overcome obstacles in their writing, I can’t help but reflect on my own “process.” I’m always a better writer when I am teaching others.

There are no words to describe how it feels when you can talk an autistic student into writing his first poems or when you can help an angry kid work through his rage with his words. I learn as much from my students as they learn from me. That is the spiritual side of teaching.

Writing opens doors. It builds bridges of understanding. It shatters limitations, stereotypes and prejudices. Too many students are “spooked” by the writing process. I try to make it adventurous. I constantly remind students that words are powerful. “To write is to be alive,” I tell them. “To not write,” I remind them, “is to silence the voice of your soul!”

I love mentoring, guiding and sharing my knowledge. Teaching keeps you thinking and growing. The best teachers are students of life. So are the best writers.

EM: What advice would you give to young writers?

TL: If you want to be a writer, read the philosophers and poets. Study the comedies, tragedies and classics. Talk to a stranger. Listen to good music. Sit on a mountaintop. Enjoy the view from the middle of a forest. Let the experiences of life soak through your pores. Don’t live in isolation. Find beauty in the mundane. Live, breathe, experience! Discover your passions. Find joy and purpose in your life. Let that shine in your writing!

EM: What is your biggest frustration?

TL: When I am in the middle of a writing project and feel I have nowhere to go. When you are lost in a jungle of your own words, the Tsunami could slap you in the face, and you’d still sit dumb-struck, trying to conquer your writing block. Writing is all-consuming. Though I have developed techniques for writer’s block, I still feel frustrated when the words are not spilling on the page.

Sometimes it happens quickly for me, and the words simply flow. Other times I am railing against the tide. I don’t have patience when this happens, but I find it is helpful to take a break so I can recharge battery. I write lifestyle and entertainment features for newspapers. I try to leave a comfortable window of time on my deadlines if I feel burn-out setting in.

When I was a newspaper reporter, my biggest frustration was landing a great story and then having a source tell me I couldn’t use any of it. I always felt a sense of failure when this happened. My days as a reporter were a great education, though. I learned how to ask the right questions and pace the story with just the right amount of tension. I became a storyteller.

Working as a reporter provided me with a great foundation for writing lean, crisp narrative. If it was good enough for Mark Twain and Kurt Vonnegut, then it’s good enough for me!

EM: What makes you happy as a writer?

TL: When I see a complete stranger reading something I wrote and their eyes are stuck to my story, that is unbelievably satisfying. I am not above enjoying fan letters, either!

EM: What part, if any did/does journaling play in your writing career?

TL: I write long, chatty emails that are like journal or blog entries. Sometimes I’m not ready to write something formally and find it relaxing to express myself without any rules or structure. I always tell students to quit worrying about perfect sentences and just enjoy the ride. Sometimes what emerges when you are not feeling pressured is quite poetic and profound.

Occasionally I journal on paper or the computer about a life issue that I think will become a future story. I find taking the time to self-reflect helps ground me emotionally and that can help me find my groove as a writer. My manner of journaling is quite scattershot, but it is a piece of the puzzle that I feel compelled to keep exploring.

EM: How do (or don’t) routines and schedules play a part in your career as a writer?

TL: As a curmudgeony Capricorn, I can’t exist without my writing rituals, but I am also willing to shake up the routine when it ceases to work.

Ironically I’m not a morning person, yet I do my best writing in the morning. This makes perfect sense to me. I believe my brain is the most awake in the morning when my mind is a blank slate, and I haven’t yet allowed the junk of the day to clutter my head.

My routine is to take my laptop to my favorite coffee joint, sit at a nice window seat with a plug-in, slowly sip my coffee, and then let the words and music wash over my brain. I like to read my story notes once or twice to see if anything stands out. Then I try out introductions. Once I wham out the first four or five paragraphs, I slip into the zone. The story takes a life of its own. This is what we writers live for!

EM: How do you keep track of what you’ve written, what’s out, what’s been accepted, etc?

TL: I try to keep track of invoices so I can get paid. Other than that, I pretty much keep track of what I’m writing in my brain and hope for the best. I send copious story lists to editors every couple of months, print those out, and then in a date book, I jot down all of my deadlines in big red letters.

I am good at managing my time and working on multiple projects. I find I work the best with a minimal amount of structure. I guess I am an independent spirit. I like to keep the process pure and simple. That just works for me.

EM: Any favorite websites or authors?

TL: I’m an information junkie so I enjoy surfing the Internet and going wherever my curiosity happens to lead me.

I love reading the articles in the Utne Reader (www.utnereader.com), the thoughtful essays and interviews in The Sun Magazine (www.thesunmagazine.org) but also enjoy visiting Anne Rice’s (www.AnneRice.com) and Roseanne Barr’s (roseanneworld.com) websites and blogs because their opinion pieces are smart, provocative and always interesting. Sam Shaber, (www.samshaber.com), a New York folk singer, has a fun, chatty, opinionated blog about music and life on the road. I also like NPR’s intelligent interviews with creative, interesting people. NPR provides great background material when I am interviewing a celebrity.

My taste in books pretty much runs the gamut.

Bryan Brown writes compelling, imaginative and quirky short stories. His characters are edgy, dark and not always pretty, but Brown makes you somehow care about these horribly flawed characters.

I love William Shakespeare‘s grasp of the English language and the way he turns human emotion into pure poetry. I enjoy Dorothy Parker‘s sophisticated wit, her lingering pathos and her razor sharp insights.

Susan Sontag‘s essays are brilliant. Love her or hate her, you have to respect the breadth of her intelligence. Buddhist author Thich Naht Hanh feeds my spirit because sometimes you just need something light and uplifting.

Brenda Ueland’s book, “If You Want to Write: A Book About Art, Independence and Spirit” provides endless inspiration. She reminds me that writing is an important, spiritual endeavor. Reading the work of prolific authors shows me the inexhaustible possibilities of the imagination.

I always look for writers who stir my mind, touch my emotions and teach me something. That changes from day to day because I change from day to day.

EM: Who and what continue to inspire you?

TL: The world of ideas is one I fearlessly explore. The ideas do not come from some magical place. Anything that fires up my senses, stimulates my curiosity or piques my imagination is fair game.

I try to pay attention to life’s rhythms, ordinary people with cool stories, peaceful pets, the dialogue of strangers (remember I was a reporter), the cycles of nature, my own life struggles and quirky travel adventures. I am a devoted people watcher. In pursuit of a good story, I am always willing to take a detour.

I read the potent work of other writers. I try to surround myself with passionate people who teach me the power of living a creative, spiritual life. I am a firm believer that inspiration is all around you if you have an open heart and an open mind.

EM: What part does zen play in your writing?

TL: I am constantly struggling to get in touch with my spiritual side, and that struggle to become a better human being leads me to interesting people, soulful friendships and rewarding teaching and learning encounters. The idea that I am learning 24-7 is a big part of what drives me as a writer and also offers me a sense of hope I can make a difference with the work I do.

I believe we learn something from all of our life experiences, even the unpleasant ones. If you think this way, you never run out of ideas or things to write. My spiritual side lends wisdom to my journey, and that, in turn, brings richness to my writing. This is much more than an intellectual process. It comes from a much deeper place.

EM: What are your thoughts about writing as a spiritual practice or undertaking?

TL: Writing is simply a great avenue for self-expression. It helps me map out my life journey. Just by looking at my stories, I can tell where I was at different stages of my life.

When I was in love, I wrote about love. When pets entered my life, I wrote animal stories. When my dad died, I found myself writing more about death and mortality. Some people would say this is morbid. I think it was a way of dealing with loss and also seeking meaning in my own life.

As I move through middle life, I feel a greater need to connect the dots in my life. Writing brings meaning to my life journey. Writing is a spiritual gift that we all possess. Writing is not just something I do to get paid. It is my existential lifeline.

EM: What do you do when you encounter writer’s block?

TL: If you write long enough, writer’s block will make its ugly presence. Sometimes your brain freezes, words are stuck in some far-away chamber, and the rhythms simply aren’t clicking. It happens to the best of writers. Pulitzer Prize-winning playwright Edward Albee once told me he would hate to think he has already written his greatest play(s). Then he would have no reason to keep creating new work.

I try to take care of my emotional health when I am writing, keep the clutter out of my brain. When my brain is full of junk, that’s when my mind races, and I find it difficult to focus. You just have to work through it. It helps to take breaks, give yourself rewards (chocolate is always good!) and even stop to read other writers for inspiration and a massive kick in the butt.

EM: What’s it like to write for money? Does that place pressure on you? How do you handle that?

TL: Right now I have dream jobs. I’m a freelance writer and a writing coach/mentor for high school students with behavior problems and learning challenges.

I worked many years also as a feature writer and newspaper reporter. When I tried to make a living as a freelance writer, it was murder because I was living paycheck to paycheck, and some editors paid so slowly it put tremendous pressure on me.

You have to cobble together an income, one assignment at a time, and have the discipline to produce a mountain of stories all the time. Not having benefits, I had to pay for insurance, or drop my insurance when I could no longer afford it, and hope for the best.

Being part of a school system, I can help kids with my writing skills, and I still have time to write stories for freelance clients. You have to find a life that is comfortable for you. The teaching has provided me with not only a stable income and benefits but a chance to use my writing for a higher purpose.

I am helping kids tell their life stories and learning so much about myself. Teaching is the perfect profession for someone entering mid-life. You can mentor and guide the next generation while you hone your own skills.

Kids respect that I continue to work as a writer and what I’m teaching them comes from life experiences, not just textbooks. I’ve never in my life been motivated by money, anyway. All that mattered is that I did work that nourished me and fed my spirit. I’ve always tried to stay focused on that. The money is just gravy. If you don’t have a spiritual core, the rest is just junk.

EM: When did you make the transition from writing for fun to writing for a living?

TL: Ever since I graduated from college with a degree in journalism I worked either in a writing or teaching capacity. I can’t imagine ever doing anything else. I look upon writing as a vocation, a means to lead a richer life, and, oh, yeah, a paying gig!

EM: What was it like when you had a book published? Your first article? Your most important project?

TL: My first book is really a booklet, “The Healing Powers of Laughter” for Abbey Press. That was satisfying because I think it was the beginning of my quest to help people spiritually with my writing. I always try to find subjects I feel passionately about and reflect that in my writing. That is a great source of pride for me.

My first paid article outside of the college newspaper was a cover story on a log cabin two brothers built in Southern Indiana. I stumbled upon a man in a coffee joint who just happened to mention he lived in a log cabin he and his brother built with real Vermont logs. A fire lit inside my brain. My high school journalism teacher hooked me up with the magazine. It was a great learning experience. Seeing my byline in big print was quite cool!

The writer’s ego in me still enjoys waking up in the morning to see my byline instantly on the Internet. My most important story as a reporter was interviewing a woman whose husband faked his death and mysteriously reappeared 20 years later. It was like a Lifetime movie. She was an incredibly poignant interview.

I enjoyed developing an offbeat, fascinating story from a small news item that a metropolitan daily newspaper had foolishly shoved to the back pages. The stories about ordinary people with hardships or challenges are always the most interesting to me.

I also enjoyed doing the research, interviewing the women and writing a story about civilian women in Vietnam who were experiencing the effects of Agent Orange. It was a story that had not been reported before and drew attention to an important health concern for women. I put a human face on the problem, and that is one of the greatest things you can do as a journalist.

EM: What projects do you have in the hopper now? And how do you juggle many things at once?

TL: I am exploring the healing and spiritual aspects of writing and trying to develop programs I can take to high schools all over America. I am working on an anthology of creative writing by learning disabled students with mini narratives about their life challenges. I am also writing poems, humor pieces, travel narratives and entertainment profiles for newspapers and magazines.

I am constantly setting up interviews and shooting story pitches to editors. I am always researching new markets to see what exists in the publishing world. This year I am determined to land in more national magazines.

I find it easy to multi-task because that is just the life of an author. While I’m knocking out one story, often I am lining up interviews or thinking about the next story. If you deplore multi-tasking, I always say writing is not the job for you.

It always helps to complete a block of interviews and then write a block of stories. This keeps me from getting distracted when I finally sit down to face the blank screen.

So far I’ve interviewed three Pulitzer Prize-winning playwrights, a female Indian chief, a world religious leader, a clown who can dance, perform acrobatics and speak multiple languages, a paralyzed gardener, a female lumberjack and many, many more people, too countless to mention. If I didn’t multi-task, I would not have access to people from so many fascinating walks of life.

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Terry Loncaric has worked as a reporter, entertainment writer, editor and writing instructor. Her articles, opinions, spiritual essays, humor pieces and travel narratives have been published in many places, including the Christian Science Monitor, the Chicago Tribune, Philadelphia City Paper, Detroit Metro Times, Footlights magazine and Conscious Choice. She wrote a booklet, “The Healing Powers of Laughter” for Abbey Press. Loncaric taught a writing course in entertainment reviews for Chicago‘s Columbia College. She currently works as a writing coach/mentor and teaching assistant of learning disabled students at Hoffman Estates High School in the Chicago suburbs. She tutors students with learning difficulties and invites other writers to swap tales from the trenches. Her email address is artsimmersion@aol.com.