Read Juncture Notes 16 here: behind the scenes of the illustrated workbook and exquisite interview with essayist Megan Stielstra

In this issue of Juncture Notes, which can be read in its entirety here, we are privileged to have Megan Stielstra's thoughts on writing, teaching, and the many stories that bind us. Reading this interview, with its many turns and links, will give you a summer's worth of musings...and a very good reason to buy her new collection, The Wrong Way to Save Your Life.

We also go behind the scenes, in this issue, to take a look at our brand-new memoir workbook, Tell the Truth. Make It Matter., a collaborative content/illustration/design project, and something we are excited to announce has already been adopted into a high school curriculum.

Thanks to my husband, Bill, for the drawing above; it also appears in the workbook.

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Imagining an Empathy Project in Every Community: In this weekend's Philadelphia Inquirer

Shortly after Bill and I returned from our Juncture memoir workshop in Frenchtown, PA, I wrote here about the Empathy Project that had found its way into the heart of that very special community.

I couldn't stop thinking about it all. About the writers I love and about those we'd met. About the possibilities that inhere in listening. And so I thought out loud again about the project for the pages of this weekend's Philadelphia Inquirer. 

I share that link here. I ask the open question: What would happen if communities across this country (this world) orchestrated their own Empathy Projects?

With thanks, as always, to the Inquirer's Kevin Ferris, for all the ways he allows me to explore the passions that define and shape me. (And for including a link to Tell the Truth. Make It Matter. That makes me happy, too.)

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on teaching memoir (the Juncture Workshop files)

It occurs to me that you might have noticed that I'm posting less frequently on the blog these days. In part, that is to spare you.

(You're welcome.)

In part it's because I'm devoting so much time to reading and planning the Juncture memoir newsletter, which is sent out to our list once a month. Juncture Notes is free, and you can sign up here to read my interviews with memoirists, my reflections on the form, and the work that our readers send in, among other things. (Juncture Notes also features the original work of my multi-media artist husband. His clay. His photographs. His 3-D images.)

But much of my absence here on the blog can be directly tied to the image above. I call these the Juncture Workshop files. It is a long-ongoing project—a massive effort to cull, save, sort the memoir thoughts I have, the excerpts I love, the exercises that occur to me in the middle of each night—all so that I can teach most effectively both at Penn and at the five-day Juncture memoir workshops we're conducting in McClure, PA, in September, and in Cape May, NJ, in November. (More details on both here.)

I'm not close to done. I'll never be done. I've just ordered eight more books—and a new bookcase. In fact, within two weeks one room out of the seven rooms in my house will be devoted solely to memoir—to the hundreds of memoirs that I own, to the files I am building, to the essays of those who are joining our workshops.

Call me obsessed.

It's all right.

I get that all the time.

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Juncture Writing Workshops is bringing memoir to Cape May, NJ, in November. Join us?

SEA CHANGE
Cape May, NJ
November 1 – 6, 2016


Cape May, NJ. It’s an island, actually, a National Historic Landmark City that was home to Colonial Era whalers and fishermen before it became a favorite retreat for sea-breeze-seeking Philadelphians. Today the town is famous for its multi-hued “painted lady” houses, its wrap-around porches and rocking chairs, its original boutiques and restaurants, and the trees that canopy its streets. Beyond the white sands, dolphins slice the waves. In the wildlife preserves, bogs, and salt marshes, birds sing, turtles crawl, and muskrats build their funny houses.

I grew up visiting Cape May; my favorite uncle lived there. When Bill and I recently discovered a capacious, newly renovated circa-1872 painted lady just blocks from the beach and the town, we knew we’d found the perfect setting for our November Juncture workshop. A private room for each writer who comes to stay. A sunny gathering place. A wrap-around porch. The sea. The birds.

We’ll learn from some of the greatest memoirs ever written—and write our own. Through a combination of readings, guided exercises, and critiques, we will acquire a firm understanding of what memoir is (and what it isn’t) and work toward the development of meaningful themes and sustaining scenes. We will generate and refine new pages, craft a prologue, and share our work in evening readings. We will walk the beach, find the birds, take photographs, meet formally and informally.

A beautifully designed book featuring the images and words of the week will commemorate our time together.

If you are interested, please do let us know by sending us a message through this Juncture Writing Workshops site.

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Juncture Notes and News

With our September memoir workshop (on a working farm) now just one person shy of full, we've set out to find a new location for those who have expressed interest in working with us.

(If you're interested in that one last September spot—the chance to work with what has turned out to be a most remarkable gathering of writers, please let us know.)

We're now a few days away from announcing the details of our second workshop, tentatively slated for early November, and if you're interested in writing, reading, and knowing at a place that may be sandy, say, and alive with sea air and wild birds, send us a note at Juncture.

In the meantime, we'll be releasing Juncture Notes 3, our free memoir newsletter, early next week. In this issue, we'll be talking about Diana Abu-Jaber's new memoir (and hearing directly from her), among other things. If you're not on our list but would like to be, please sign up through our Juncture Writing Workshops site.

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