Frances Lefkowitz uses her essay 'The Gifted Classes' in The Sun's writing workshop on money

Here's a long overdue recap of a writing workshop given by Frances Lefkowitz at The Sun magazine writers' retreat in October 2013. Using her essay, "The Gifted Classes," Lefkowitz discussed ways to consider and write about class. The author of the memoir To Have Not offered her text as a model for how to "extrapolate your personal story" and make it appeal to a wide audience. "The more specific you can get, the more universal your story will be," she said.

from the January 2003 issue 325:

What you once knew without thinking begins to clash with the evidence darting out at you from all around — from tv and movies and comic books and magazines, and even real life, like the way your mother oversmiles as she takes the crumpled green bills out of her fabric wallet and hands them to the department-store clerk to pay for the book, scarf, dress, hat, and kerchief that you need to join the Brownies. This is the moment when you discover that there are people out there who have things that you don’t have. 

The excerpt above, archived in The Sun, reveals the author's "dawning of the realization of poverty, of being different." This internalized shame is a central theme in her 2010 book, which began as a collection of essays--four of them first appearing in the magazine. In her workshop Lefkowitz encouraged us to explore similar themes of shame around money and class--be it poverty or privilege--acknowledging there may also be "a lack of wealth in having it all, in materialism and its expectations."

During our reading of her piece followed by a brainstorming session, we considered that class isn't necessarily static or isolated; a personal story of class could be made more powerful if juxtaposed within the social strata. Some of my own experiences living with a divorced single mom on the edge of an upper-middle class milieu came to mind, such as my perception of never having "enough" wealth at my 1980s suburban middle school and Jewish summer camp. In my case, it was not the shame of real poverty that I experienced. But the social class I was surrounded by--with its emphasis on material excess, from leather-seated sports cars to fashion trends always out of reach--defined my self-worth and social status as lacking (and shameful) in comparison, which led to a painful and internalized sense of alienation and exclusion that lingered beyond high school.

Try This:

a) Using the prompt 'the dawning of discovery that there was money,' write about your relationship with class as you became aware of it for the first time. You could describe your first job and paycheck or your parents arguing. Extrapolate a message you learned (to be careful with money, that you weren't worth the money, etc.). Write of several incidents that accumulate, choosing sensory details to describe them. What was your--or someone else's--revelation?

b) Write about what you are poor in. Talk about your poverty (the ways in which you yearn for things you do not have). Even if your material needs are provided for, perhaps 'poverty' permeates other areas of your life. How are you a 'have not'? What do you feel you'll never get enough of?

c) Write about what you are rich in. Brag about it. What 'club' are you part of? What do you belong to?

The Sun Magazine Contributors Speak at Esalen: Cultivating Your Writing Practice

Coordinator Angela Winter and Sy Safransky

Writing practice? If that's anything like my meditation practice, it's always intended and rarely done. Both require a certain discipline of gluing your tuchas down for a period of time with a particular focus, cutting away the extraneous, the daily clatter and clutter. Maybe that's why Buddhist teacher Jack Kornfeld was aptly quoted during the Sun's last session at Esalen: "After the ecstasy, you notice the laundry."

Sy Safransky, the Sun magazine's founding editor and publisher, noted there are as many ways to practice writing as there are religion. "I try to write every morning, but sometimes don't," he admitted. "And when I don't, I'm punished." I recently heard another author claim, in an interview on NPR, that for a writer, writing is like breathing. It cannot be withheld for too long without suffering.

Yet, cultivating that daily (or weekly, or...) writing practice is something it seems many writers (or would be writers) wrestle with. So the illustrious authors on the panel each offered up their own strategies for not only getting words on the page, but seeing those pages to completion.

Salon.com columnist Cary Tennis started what he calls Finishing School, meeting with a group solely for the purpose of finishing work. He said that writing groups are good for eliciting words but he has difficulty finishing and submitting his own. Meeting with other professionals is great for that kind of accountability. Tennis breaks it down this way:
1. Clarify: Define your writing goal (for the month).
2. Chunkify: Break it up into manageable pieces.
3. Clockify: Assign time to each chunk of your work. Use time as a physical element (timer, calendar, etc.).
4. Testify: How did it go? What got in the way? What did you discover?

Frances Lefkowitz, author of the memoir To Have Not, suggested that incorporating interruptions isn't a bad thing: "It breaks up the mind's trajectory so you can return to the work in a different way." She reminded us that what we read on the page in a book or magazine is not what the writer first wrote down. Knowing when to push hard and problem-solve during the writing or revision process, and when to let back is something every writer grapples with. In a bit of writerly wisdom that defies traditional advice on sustaining one's focus, Lefkowitz admitted to "actively seeking out" distractions (even email!) that jumbles up the normal pace the brain maintains. I can testify that my best insights come when washing dishes or in the shower; the mind needs a rest and a sensory jumpstart between sessions staring at the screen.

"The moment you are ready to do this will be announced to you," said Pulitzer Prize nominee David Brendan Hopes. His uncommon advice flew in the face of the cumulative knowledge shared by most writers--that old adage that writing is mostly perspiration, not inspiration. He seemed to argue for innate talent over learned abilities, claiming "When I sit down to write, it's there," but that many people's lives would be better served doing something else. Hopes didn't offer much hope to the aspiring writer, which was about 95 percent of his audience. "The world gives you themes," he said. "If one hasn't made its appearance, bathe the kids."

"I get cranky when I don't write enough. That's what brings me back to the page," said award-winning poet Ellen Bass. "If you're good-natured, you might not be able to rely on that," she added with her usual (good-natured) humor. Bass said that the world needs writers and other artists, "but not any one of us." Thus, the reason to write is primarily because you want to. "If I love it, why would I spend my whole life not doing it?"

Poet and essayist Steve Kowit said, "There's anguish and pain in the process, but it's an overall joy." He confessed to not being a "productive writer" and suggested partnering with another for that same sense of accountability Tennis has created. "When you make a commitment with someone else, it's more viable than making a commitment internally." Reflecting on his own process, he added, "I would like at least not to feel so guilty while doing the laundry."


Steve Kowit Reads His Poem, "Basic" from Patty Kay Mooney on Vimeo.

One of the Best Things about Blogs -- Linking Back

Certainly one of the coolest parts of writing a blog is becoming aware of your readership. Whenever I post about someone's talk I always send a link to them, and often they re-post something about it to their own site. Here's what Frances Lefkowitz posted back in March  when I blogged about her author talk as well as her "wonderful pair of shiny brown patent leather heeled Mary Jane-style shoes."

Tips on Writing & Publishing Memoir

Posted on March 20, 2013
I couldn’t have summed up my recent talk at the Writers Forum any better myself, so I’ll just link you right to writer Nicole Zimmerman‘s excellent summary at Paper-Pencil-Pen.

To jumpstart the evening’s discussion on writing and publishing memoir and personal essays, I interviewed myself, asking and then answering tough questions, such as “What if you can’t remember every detail?” and “After you published your memoir, did your parents stop speaking to you?”

Bonus: my shoes get some press…

maryjanes on steroids