About
I am a writer, editor, and teacher based in New York. I have work published or forthcoming in The Kenyon Review, The Writer’s Chronicle, Hippocampus Magazine, Anderbo, Connotation Press, Muse & Stone, In the Fray, and elsewhere. I’ve just completed my first book, a hybrid of psychology, neuroscience, and memoir. The book* chronicles my attempts to excavate lost childhood memory, to supplement the only two events I remember from my childhood—my father’s death and a house fire. I’ve studied memory from all angles: neuroscientific, psychological, social, metaphorical. Sometimes I sense that I know less about memory now than when I began.
Writing might never sustain me economically. That’s most definitely not why I write. Writing sustains me in every other way. Not only the act of writing, but the communities that celebrate the written word, that celebrate the ways in which people think and explain their thinking. More about why I write can be found here, a blog run by a friend devoted to manifestos for creativity. Four years ago I founded a writing group called Salon Esse. Writers meet once a month to share new work. (No critique allowed! Just sharing.) I’m involved in a weekly workshop that meets via Skype and has been lucky enough to meet in person for a writing retreat. And the greatest of all: Vermont College of Fine Arts. A dreamy place, a dynamic, ongoing supplier of encouragement and incentive.
Before entering the world of writing and editing for adults, I taught elementary school. I’ve also taught an afterschool class based on Settlers of Catan. I’ve taught in a summer remedial program. I’ve taught English vocabulary through music to kids in a depressed central Costa Rican town, even though I couldn’t speak Spanish, despite many efforts to learn. (I still regret that. I still wish I could have figured out how to get my brain to learn the language. But music saved us, me and those kids, probably me more than those kids.) I still focus much of my writing on issues that relate to children and education. And I love being with kids. Now, with two nieces and three nephews, I get to hang out with kids a whole lot.
My husband and I have lived in a pre-war, 700-square-foot apartment near the United Nations for nine years. It didn’t completely become our home until we adopted two kittens. Tiko & Sala are very loving cats—you can read about them over at Cat Fidelity: Life, Through Cats.
Thanks for visiting! Share anything you like. I’m particularly eager to read your thoughts on memory.
Suzanne
*Though I’ve used a working title for years, I sense weird electricity when I type it in a public forum. It’s creepy, so I’ll just say the book. Not even capitalized.
I wonder if you’ve crossed paths with fellow writer and poet Hillary Keel?
here’s a link to something about Hillary http://alisonamazed.wordpress.com/2011/02/08/check-it-out-german-sounds-make-for-great-sound-bites/
Jack Hoblitzell connected me to your blog! Fascinated. Look forward to getting more involved! I am “Press This-ing” your “I want to be remembered” post.
So nice to meet you this way, Elizabeth. And so touched that Jack introduced you to my blog. He’s a dear friend from college. My husband and I are two of his biggest fans!
Susan: Your book sounds great. I’m particularly interested in the questions and problems associated with memoir, memory and remembering. I’m working on a similarly-hybridic book: using science, memoir and family mythology to talk about love stories.
When it comes to memory and storytelling, I think often of this quote by this quotation by Milan Kundera: “We immediately transform the present moment into its abstraction. We need only recount an episode we experienced a few hours ago: the dialogue contracts to a brief summary, the setting to a few general features… The present moment is unlike the memory of it. Remembering is not the negative of forgetting. Remembering is a form of forgetting.”
Looking forward to reading more of your blog!
Mandy, thank you so much for dropping by and leaving a comment. That Kundera quote is telling. It reminds me of one of the very first things I learned about memory when I began my somewhat formal study of it: that forgetting is a necessary function performed by the brain. It seems counterintuitive, but writers like Kundera make it so clear!
Just finished your article in the Writer’s Chronicle – Loved it.
I’m currently working on my memoir about the healing journey I took from childhood abuse- learning as I write – I’m finding that each time I revisit a scene I’m able to go deeper into the experience and memories – and new information regarding the past is emerging. I’m writing in first person so I only know what I know at the age – am looking forward to tying the pieces together at the end.
I was able to show some to my sister-in-law and she commented that reading it brought her back to that house (a good indication that I’m getting on target) and my brother said, “Now I know why she changed her name to Heather.”
Is the book published? if so where can I get it, I’m curious to see how your journey went.
Again, thanks for the article you wrote. By the way, my husband and I used to live on a houseboat in the 79th Street Boat Basin.
Heather
Thanks for writing, Heather! “Learning as I write” sounds about right. I didn’t know I was writing a book for the first three years I was writing it. I had a lot of catching up to do when I figure it out… anyways, it’s on submission at several presses, so I’m crossing my fingers something works out.
Revisiting the scenes, as you say, sounds like it could be difficult, even painful, but ultimately rewarding as you find more and more. I’m wishing you so much on your journey to finish this book, which for writers like us, feels more like finishing a major growth spurt in our health, happiness, and well-being. Good luck good luck good luck!
And a houseboat – what terrific NYC real estate…