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Laurie Easter

~ Writer, Teacher, Editor

Laurie Easter

Monthly Archives: March 2014

The Triple-A Project: Handwritten Cards in the Mail

29 Saturday Mar 2014

Posted by Laurie Easter in Letters in the Mail, Triple A Project, writing

≈ 17 Comments

Tags

handwritten cards, Letters in the mail, The Rumpus, The Triple A Project

My family teases me that the highlight of my day is collecting the mail. It’s true; it’s sort of an obsession of mine, this six-days-a-week trip to our rusty, rural mailbox with its red flag and peeling green paint. Part of the allure is the quarter-mile walk each way, down a gravel drive through meadowland that passes one neighbor’s pond and another neighbor’s orchard, a lush organic farm just beyond and a view of evergreen mountain ridges both near and far.

In winter, the snow can melt and refreeze repeatedly into two channels of slick ice, and the trek then requires thoughtful placement of stout boots with decent tread. In spring when it rains, water often rushes down the ditch beside the road, threatening to crest and wash away the gravel. In summer, the heat can be unforgiving, radiating in thick, dry, suffocating waves. And in fall, well fall is usually just about perfect with its promise of shifting hues in the light and plentiful harvest.

Usually when I open the box and scoop up its contents, I’m greeted by bills or junk mail. Occasionally I’ll find a literary journal or magazine. But mostly, the mail is rather dull, which begs the question why am I so mail obsessed?

I think it boils down to Possibility. Every time I open that front-loading door and reach inside, there is the possibility that among the bills and junk, I will be rewarded, like finding the prize from the Lucky Charms box in my cereal bowl as a kid. Those days when a journal or magazine arrives are such days. But even better are the days—very few and far between—when I am surprised by a handwritten card from a friend.

DSCN5855This last week included such a day when a postcard of an Alaskan landscape painting by Sydney Mortimer Laurence arrived from my friend, Elizabeth, who lives in Fairbanks. In her pleasant and fully legible print, she wrote of skiing around the woodsy trails near town, camaraderie and friendship, and how the approach of spring brings deep thinking and analysis. This is the kind of treasure I welcome on my daily strolls to the mailbox, this illuminated possibility that could be lying within ready to brighten the day.

There is something fulfilling and profound about becoming familiar with someone else’s handwriting, a human trait at once individual like our own fingerprints yet depicting character in the way the letters are formed: curvaceous or blocky, a thin scrawl or deliberate as a firm handshake. Handwritten words carry a super-charge that type in email doesn’t embody, nor never will. It’s close, personal, like a whispered conversation.

The way of the old-fashioned letter in the mail has practically disappeared. Kids nowadays aren’t taught in school how to address an envelope. In fact, they’re not even being taught how to write in cursive anymore. Do they even teach handwriting at all? This shift to the digital makes communication fast and efficient, yes, but what of the charm of special stamps and stationary, postcards and pen-pals? I can’t help but feel the younger generations are losing something they don’t even know they’ve lost in this movement toward a more transitory existence. I mean, who prints and keeps copies of emails as a keepsake?

The awesome folks over at The Rumpus are doing their part in keeping the fine art of letter writing alive with their “Letters in the Mail” subscription. Each month, subscribers receive two letters in the mail, written by authors such as Margaret Cho, Rick Moody, and Aimee Bender, to name a few. Some are typed; others are handwritten; all are photo-copied. They’ve even started a “Letters for Kids” subscription with letters written by well-known authors of middle-grade and young adult literature. Their credo: “We’re helping people appreciate the post office at a younger age.” As to their motivation, this is what they have to say:

Six is pretty much the perfect age to start checking your mailbox. And if you’ve waited until you were ten, well, you’re four years behind but still, it’s not too late. And if you’re sixteen, that’s OK, there’s still something of the kid left. And if you’re sixty, well… OK. You’re young at heart.

I think that’s where it comes from, this obsession of mine. It started when I was a child checking the mailbox—an endearment, a joy, a possibility.

There’s one thing about getting a handwritten card in the mail from a friend. It’s called reciprocation. So full disclosure: my friend, Elizabeth, has written me other cards before this one I received last week, and I have yet to do my part and offer her the same moment of fun when opening her mailbox. (So, Triple-A, if you are reading this, please know that I have something special planned for you, and my saying it here binds me to follow through.)

As for anyone else reading this, I have an offer. With this post, I am initiating The Triple-A Project—handwritten cards in the mail. Leave a comment below if you would like to be on the receiving end of the Triple-A Project and then move over to the “Contact” page of this website (links are at the top and bottom of this page) to message me your address (messages are private and don’t appear online). I promise not to share your address with anyone, send you weird shit, or stalk you. I do, however, promise to send you a beautiful postcard with a groovy handwritten message.

Here’s to keeping alive the fine art of handwritten letters in the mail.
Cheers!

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Rejection, Faith, and the Law of Attraction

17 Monday Mar 2014

Posted by Laurie Easter in Faith, writing

≈ 9 Comments

Tags

Abraham-Hicks, cancer, essay, Faith, positive thinking, rejection, The Law of Attraction, The Secret, writing

Today when I collected my mail, the latest issue of a particular literary journal that will remain nameless had arrived. I gathered the assortment of mail, glancing at the cover of this journal, and said aloud with verve and finality: “I’m still mad at you,” albeit in a sulky tone. As if this journal could hear me. As if even if it could, the editors listed inside would care. As if I was a jilted lover holding a long-held grudge. My grudge, however, is not long-standing, only nineteen days to be exact.

Okay, before you start rolling your eyes and thinking “quit complaining and get over it,” let me explain.

First of all, I’m not holding a grudge. (Well, maybe an itty-bitty one. But I will indeed get over it.) It’s more hurt than grudge really. Yes, I know, to be a writer one has to be willing to be kicked more than a few times (like hundreds) and not take it personally, right? That’s the thing though. It is personal because the work is personal. And this essay I submitted that got rejected, well, it was way personal. Probably my most personal. And that’s saying something if you know me or my writing.

Now you might be thinking “serves you right god-damned navel-gazer.” And maybe to a certain degree that would be correct. I mean, if I dare to be confessional in my writing, exposing myself to the deepest core, well, then I’m taking a risk. I’m opening myself up to criticism and rejection, as well as praise and acceptance. That’s just the nature of the world. We don’t all have the same preferences. Thank goodness for that. And this journal that rejected me? They got more than eight hundred submissions. The odds were most definitely not in my favor.

I received this rejection while at AWP, and one of my friends there said “They get a lot of submissions. What were you expecting?” And in one sense, I suppose she is right. With that kind of competition, how could I have the audacity to feel like a jilted lover? Now, that is what I really want to discuss. But it takes some openness to what might be perceived as “airy fairy” notions or “new age-y” ideals. And if that’s an area that you find to be mamby-pamby-shit-talk, then you can just stop right here and hit that big ol’ X in the top right corner.

So that question my friend asked at AWP, what was I expecting? Here’s the truth. I was expecting my essay to be chosen. It fit all the criteria. It incorporated a strong narrative, research, and reflection. It reached beyond the personal into the universal. It was honest, intimate, and true. And to top it all off, it perfectly fit the advertised theme. But once again, there is that question of how could I dare to think, no, believe that my essay would be chosen amongst all those submissions?

Have you ever heard of the film or book—heck, I think it’s probably become a whole entire movement—The Secret by Rhonda Byrne? It’s based on a concept known as “the law of attraction,” a concept also made famous by the teachings of Abraham, an entity “channeled” by Esther Hicks. The short version is this: like attracts like; our thoughts have the power to create whatever we want. If we focus our energy on that thing we want, if we remain positive, not by mere positivity, but by pure belief of imagination, then like attracts like, and that thing will manifest based on that flow of energy. See, I warned you this could be considered some mamby-pamby shit.

Okay, so here is my dilemma. While I awaited the results of my submission, I maintained a positive attitude. But it was more than that. I visualized it. I felt it. I believed it. There was no doubt, not even an inkling. I think what I felt came the closest to what I imagine people who believe in God feel—not that I’m trying to equate my acceptance or rejection to an almighty that millions of people believe in, but more the notion of a belief so strong that you feel secure in that belief.

So here’s the problem. I don’t want to lose my capacity for positive thinking. That feeling I had when I visualized so strongly my positive outcome, it felt good. It felt great actually. But the reality turned out to be different. My essay wasn’t chosen. It didn’t even make the final round. And maybe using this experience as an example for a foray into faith and positive thinking is a silly one, but right now, in this moment, that’s what I’ve got. There are others who are dealing with much worse results than this. A dear friend of mine currently is battling cancer. She’s one of the bravest, most inspiring people I know. She’s had to face challenge after challenge, and with every step she summons strength and grace. It’s not always easy for her, but she does it. And this idea of the law of attraction, if I replace her scenario with my own, it becomes a ludicrous notion. She did not attract cancer due to a lack of positivity. In her own words just today, she wrote,

We want to believe that if we live right, we won’t get cancer. If we fight hard, we can beat cancer. If we stay positive then we live longer. I can tell you right now that’s not always the case. Being healthy, fighting hard, and staying positive are admirable and desirable traits, but they can’t guarantee life.

I’m not facing cancer. Well, I am if you count watching my friend’s trajectory, but it is not my personal daily experience. I have it easy.

This is the conundrum I find myself: Between a belief in the power of positive thinking and reality. I don’t want to lose faith. But I also don’t want to lose sight of what’s tangible, or even probable. Not being chosen out of more than eight hundred submissions—that’s probable. But still, I want to believe.

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Launch of a Blog and a Writing Residency

12 Wednesday Mar 2014

Posted by Laurie Easter in writing

≈ 8 Comments

Tags

Amtrak Residency, AWP, Laurie Easter, writing

Hello and welcome to my first blog post on my newly designed site. I started writing a post last week about attending my first-ever Associated Writers and Writing Programs (AWP) conference in Seattle, but everything I put on the page kept coming up drivel—not what I wanted for my inauguration to the blogosphere. As a result, I procrastinated, an easy thing to do when the sun is shining and the flowers are pushing out of the cold, damp earth.

A couple weeks ago, with AWP on the horizon and an upcoming interview to be published at Under the Gum Tree, I finally got off my ass (or more accurately, I sat my ass down) to create an author webpage—a task on my New Year’s Affirmations list (something I wrote about at Letters to Pomona). My new site is still in the works. I’ve never designed anything like this before, and even with the advent of predesigned themes on WordPress, there is much to think about. For example: Do I make the blog the landing page or have a static, unchanging landing page that tells about me? I opted for a Welcome page to introduce myself with a link to the blog at the top. Primarily, my intention for this website is to network as a writer/editor/teacher. And while my blog subjects will often be writing related, I want to allow myself the freedom to write about whatever may be of urgency in the moment of a particular blog post; thus, my choice to have the blog be an addendum to the rest of the site.

Now, I fear this post is not much more interesting than the one I initially tried to write about AWP, so I better get on with it before I lose you to some other blog or online article, Facebook or Twitter, and give you something useful.

So here it is. If you are a writer, and you haven’t already heard, Amtrak is developing a new writer’s residency, and applications are currently being accepted. When I first learned of this opportunity, I was very excited. Not only is it *free*, but it involves riding a train, a pastime I remember fondly from my youth when I commuted by train in the Bay Area to and from ballet class every day.

But before you dive into that application, you might want to check out the fine print. I was skeptical when a friend on FB posted a warning, thinking how easy it is to fall prey to paranoia, but then I saw a link to the official terms. Once I started to read, my enthusiasm definitely stalled. Here is a quote to give you an idea of why:

6. Grant of Rights: In submitting an Application, Applicant hereby grants Sponsor the absolute, worldwide, and irrevocable right to use, modify, publish, publicly display, distribute, and copy Applicant’s Application, in whole or in part, for any purpose, including, but not limited to, advertising and marketing, and to sublicense such rights to any third parties.

And there’s more where that came from. Take a look. If you’re considering applying for this seemingly attractive offer, you just might want to be fully informed. Until next time. Adieu!

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Laurie Easter

Laurie Easter

Laurie Easter lives and writes in a funky little cabin off the grid and on the edge of wilderness in Southern Oregon. She holds an MFA in writing from Vermont College of Fine Arts. She loves to read, cook, garden, travel, eat chocolate, and spend time with her family and friends, especially out in nature.

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