Memoirous

  Hahaha--not a single book has sold this month--despite all my extra spotlighting of the sale. Here is your last chance to get one of my titles at  HALF OFF. My Books Flash Memoir: Writing Prompts to Get You Flashing   by  Jane Hertenstein Price:  $2.99  $1.49 USD.  ( 50% off  until  July 31 !)  Words: 23,610.  Language: English.  Published: May 22, 2017 . Categories:  Essay  »  Literature ,  Nonfiction  »  Reference  »  Publishing & books We begin with a sudden memory, follow it to see where it leads. Yet so many of us tend to ignore these flashes.Using a process I call write right now, I help the writer to harvest the urgency of sudden memories.The prompts in this book are designed to spur memories, to get you writing. I’ll also direct you to resources, authors to read and study, and places to submit. Freeze Frame: How to Write Flash Memoir   by  Jane Hertenstein Price:  $2.99 USD.  Words: 20,430.  Language: English.  Published: October 27, 2015 . Categories:  Nonfiction  »  Pub

 Hahaha--not a single book has sold this month--despite all my extra spotlighting of the sale. Here is your last chance to get one of my titles at HALF OFF. My Books Flash Memoir: Writing Prompts to Get You Flashing   by  Jane Hertenstein Price:  $2.99  $1.49 USD.  ( 50% off  until  July 31 !)  Words: 23,610.  Language: English.  Published: May 22, 2017 . Categories:  Essay  »  Literature ,  Nonfiction  »  Reference  »  Publishing & books We begin with a sudden memory, follow it to see where it leads. Yet so many of us tend to ignore these flashes.Using a process I call write right now, I help the writer to harvest the urgency of sudden memories.The prompts in this book are designed to spur memories, to get you writing. I’ll also direct you to resources, authors to read and study, and places to submit. Freeze Frame: How to Write Flash Memoir   by  Jane Hertenstein Price:  $2.99 USD.  Words: 20,430.  Language: English.  Published: October 27, 2015 . Categories:  Nonfiction  »  Publi

Sometimes, because I’m not quite ready for the sun to go down, I walk around the yard, taking in the smells, the musky scent of compost, the garden, the nightshades, the settling of earth. In Italy they call it La Passeggiata, when the sun lowers and the narrow streets fill up with those who amble or promenade without purpose or direction, an evening stroll as a way to signal they are done with all work duties, just like the popular slow eating movement, this is a kind of slow walking, slow living, slowing, downsizing life to the incremental, elemental, singular, intentional, present, savoring, in the moment.   I was not alone.   Across the lawn, on a flagstone, was a bunny. Silent, dark-eyed, in her own Zen-state, splayed out, her back legs extended, as if without muscle, a position of repose, surrender, vulnerability, open to the last warmth of the stone, the sun, soaking in the final offerings of the day. She and I, at dusk, feeling the

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Yesterday my daughter and I took Jack to the library for a program. The Music Lady was there as well as a roomful of toddlers. I’ve been at the forefront of taking Jack to the library for storytime—ever since the first disastrous beginning. That first time was pure toddler chaos: hugging other children to the ground, trying to share bottles, picking up other’s people cellphones and carrying them around. The fact that there was a program or agenda meant nothing to Jack. This was my daughter’s first program at the library for Jack. She was horrified by how unfocused he was. Of course, there were other children equally unfocused and not listening. That’s why I’m committed to taking him—to socialize him to the idea of programs, structure, on the art of listening. Some mornings go better than others. She came away dejected—“he’ll never be ready for nursery school!” Maybe not, but I remembered a time when I was quite young, when I went to my first puppet show. I’m not sure where it w

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We’re crossing milestones and land bridges here in Michigan—and it’s all so sweet. I’ve been here for nearly two years. When I arrived the end of September 2021 Jack, my grandson, was an unformed 9 month old mushy mush. We still didn’t have a good bead on his personality or precociousness. Now at 2 ½ we see we’re in for it. He runs headlong  and babbles all day long. There is a lot on his mind and some of his decisions are not well thought through. Maybe that’s why he has so many cuts and bruises. He is getting more and more adventurous. Whereas the world at one time seemed a big place, he has begun to own his own little corners. Such as the territory between his back door and my front door; he navigates across the patio to come find me in the morning. Yesterday as I slept in and was just laying a-bed, I heard a series of faint knocks and a little voice calling out, Grandma, Grandma. I scurried down the ladder from my loft and let him in. Whereupon he needed a cracker and asked

 

Day 3, July 5 64 miles Saranac to Okemos The heat was almost unbearable today. I got up early and was gone by 6:20. There was a heavy ground fog in the fields as I left. I tried to eat as much as I could. Again, every bottle was full and, most importantly, I had a Gatorade in reserve. The Shiawassee Trail to St. Johns was slow, or else I was. I took my time and made frequent stops to simply drink or adjust my butt. Everything felt a little ragged around the edges. It took 4 hours to go 36 miles, but I made it to St. Johns by 10:30. Wildlife along the trail was intense with deer and rabbits darting out and then scurrying away. Riding along the Grand River was beautiful as the sun was just coming up. There are depot towns about every 7 miles with trailside water sources and restrooms. After eating and taking a break, I slathered on cream for my backside and brought out the big bottle of Gatorade. I knew with noon coming there would be very little shade on the roadways, and I had a

Day 2, July 4 76 miles Alma to Saranac Wow, what a day! I’m exhausted and burnt out—temps hovered in the high 80s and humidity was bad—but I feel like I did a lot. First, last night—I stealth camped at a county preserve. What was great was there was no road access, so I felt safe. I went to Meijers and bought chicken, danishes for breakfast, and a gallon of water. Last night I slept so sound, only waking once to pee. This a.m. before leaving I filled all my bottles and left the rest on the shelf for the Girl Scouts. I was on the Fred Meijer Heartland Trail by 6:20 across the Pione River. I was still tired from yesterday, so would pedal and then pause, on repeat. It took me almost 3 hours to get to Erdmore where I took a Danish break and made tea. By 11:15 I was in Greenville, where I took another big break. It was already terribly hot. Overall the Heartland Trail was quite remote, not a lot of houses. Truly the heartland of Michigan—some farms, meadows and woods. No water fauc

Gravel, Rail Trail, and Chip Seal: 3 days in the heartland of Michigan Monday, July 3 63 miles Okemos to Alma The first 10 miles were familiar territory. I eventually got on Chandler going north and soon Google put me on gravel. Krepps was 9 miles, mostly hardpacked surface. I hooked up with the Shiawassee Trail in St. Johns where I had a lunch break. There a seasoned rider gave me intel trying to help me stay on paved roads, using DALMAC maps. His route took me into Maple Rapids, where I took another break. From there Google again had me on gravel. Algers started gravel then changed to chip seal. Harder work than I wanted. Winds were fairly calm and the day started with thick clouds. By noon clouds were breaking and I had to put on sunscreen. Traffic was very light and will likely stay that way over the next couple of days leading into the holiday. The last 10 miles were ugly as heat and exhaustion caught up with me and there was no shade and the miles were boring. My legs were b

 

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