Judy Blume, A Love Letter

I knew I wasn’t the only one! Who loves Judy Blume, I mean. Obvs. Two awesome bloggers, Dana from the Kitchen Witch and Kim from Gane Possible have created this incredible project, aptly titled, The Judy Blume Project, for all of us writers and readers who love JB. They invited any like-minded folks to write about their own personal Blume-esque experience.

So, here’s mine…

The Reader by Jean-Honore Fragonard

I have always been a reader, and fortunately, I had the kind of parents who put up with my (obsessive) habit. I read in bed, on couches, at the kitchen table, while walking down the street, leaning against trees, and even in movie theaters and concerts (I never left home without a book in hand). It was like my adolescent security blanket.

I had a t-shirt with this crazy lady on it. Still do, actually.

Reading was my comfort, my pleasure, my escape. I could do anything, go anywhere, be anyone.

Not surprisingly, one of my favorite young adult authors was – and still is – Judy Blume. She is a prolific author with a gift for writing in both female and male voices, but for obvious reasons, I gravitated to her books about adolescent girls. I loved their awkwardness, confusion, humor, and social anxiety. It mirrored my own. I read and reread Deenie, Starring Sally J. Friedman As Herself, Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret, Tiger Eyes and others, wishing I could reach into the worn pages and pull out the characters. Blume’s stories nourished me, they were my surrogate friends, and in some ways, they taught me how to be a person.

Blubber, about the bullying of an overweight girl, was tough to get through. I read it with butterflies in my stomach the entire time, and whenever I thought about stopping, I kept on. Writing a book in the voice of a less than sympathetic character, Blume forced the reader to share the perpetrators’ perspective, an uncomfortable place to be. The lessons I learned about the consequences of choosing cruelty over compassion, taking the easier road over the higher one, and the price you pay for both, astounded and confounded my adolescent self. They still do.

Years later, in my early twenties, I had the opportunity to meet my hero, the author whose words shaped me, and helped solidify my desire to become a writer. I lived in Manhattan where celebrity sightings were as common as pigeons, yet I was never more star-struck than that evening.

When I saw her across the room at a National Book Award party in Gracie Mansion, I was terribly nervous. The fear of making a fool of myself was high on my list of anxieties, but so was another concern that I couldn’t put a finger on at the time. Now, I see what was at risk: a deflation of my admiration.

Well, turns out I had no need to worry. Judy was so gracious, smiling kindly as I spilled out my lifelong love for her stories, and together we talked about her books and writing.

Oh, be still my heart. I don’t think I stopped smiling the rest of the night.

I still remember talking to my mother on the phone as I walked home, dazed and gloriously happy in the cool night air, under the blazing city lights.

Thank you Judy Blume for meeting every one of my expectations, and blazing such a kickass trail of stories that helped shape a generation, and beyond.

Did you read Judy as a kid? Tell me your favorites. If not, what were (or are!) some beloved Young Adult novels?

My Other Writing (Life)

Those of you who know me primarily through this blog know that I like to write (this can be deduced from my often long winded and meandering posts). You also know that my daughter Bunky has celiac, I like to bake, planning dinner is akin to torture, my family is picky as hell, and though we live in Brooklyn, New York, we are fortunate enough to have a country house where we can escape rotting garbage smells (summer) and yellow snow (winter).

You may or may not know that I started this blog as a direct result, a knee jerk reaction, if you will, after Bunky’s celiac diagnosis. Writing is how I cope, among other things. So, it was second nature to write about celiac in order to survive it. Recipes came later, and a complete surprise since I am in no way a food blogger or recipe developer. When you’re eating gluten free, you end up making a LOT of stuff from scratch after you nail the whole box/mix thing. And we ALL know how very sad my food photography is. That’s because I’m a WRITER.

But reading this blog only gives you a small slice of my writerliness. Here are some things you may NOT know:

• I’ve wanted to a be a writer pretty much forever.
• I’m a pathological reader. Which is a good writerly quality, or so I’m told.

• I have been known to read while eating, brushing my teeth, attending Monkey’s concerts, in movie theaters.
• I have an MFA that I finished mostly before Bunky was born, but I did present my thesis while she screamed in the background.
• Days before I gave birth to Bunky, I printed out 268 pages of what was the first draft of the first novel I ever wrote.
• Then I put it in a drawer and didn’t look at it for 5 and a half years. Which was around last week.

It’s understandable (I suppose) that I haven’t done much creative writing since Bunky was born. I’ve pretty much been going non stop since she roared out of my body in 2008. Having a baby is no joke. Especially a colicky one. Then a celiac-y one. Then having ANOTHER one. It’s full time work. Exhausting, mind blowing, brain numbing. Takes a toll, let me tell you.

But now that Little Guy is two (!) and Bunky is in kindergarten, I am pulling my head out of my proverbial butt and trying to reengage my writer brain. It’s not easy, but I’m feeling strangely motivated. Two things have jump started me (besides the whole time is a ticking thing):

1. An awesome writer’s conference I attended in November

2. Reading Dani Shapiro’s new book, Still Writing, which I highly, highly recommend.

Since the conference I dusted off my novel and read the whole thing straight through during two Little Guy naps. I survived my worst fear (and part of the reason I left it moldering in a safe for 5+ years) which was the fear that it would suck. And hey, guess what, it did suck! But crazy as it sounds, I am okay with that. If the first draft of my first novel didn’t suck, I’d be some kind of crazy genius, and let’s not mince words here, genius I’m not (that sounds very Yoda, doesn’t it?). Luckily you don’t have to be a genius to edit a novel. You have to WORK hard. You have to persevere.

I never thought of myself as persistent, until the other day when I was on a call with my life coach (yeah, I’m totally doing that and it’s pretty cool despite my misgivings/cynicism) and she asked me to tell her one true thing about myself. I pretty much HATE describing myself because get all anxious about picking the wrong word(s). But somehow I came up with persistent. And despite how odd it seemed at first, the more I think about it, the more I realize it’s kind of true.

I’ve wanted to be a writer my ENTIRE life, basically. Yet, I’ve suffered the usual self confidence woes while mastering some Olympic gold procrastination techniques (including having babies, a foolproof way NOT to write). And yet, yet, I always come back to the written (or typed) word. I have never stopped writing. Fiction is where my heart is, but when I can’t get there, I write other stuff, like this blog. I write essays, including one just published in a book (!) called The HerStories Project: Women Explore the Joy, Pain, and Power of Female Friendship.

The amazing ladies who made this book a reality just sent me a hard copy of the book and it felt great to see my words in print.

So why am I writing this post? Besides sharing this other side of myself with you, I want to offer reassurance that while I won’t let this blog fall by the wayside, it may occasionally take me longer to update. Know that I haven’t fallen off the face of the earth, or the blogosphere. I’m just writing elsewhere.

Wow, remember these things?

I promise to keep you posted (ha!) if I manage to publish something. You’ll be one of the first to know.

Thanks for the love and support, guys. Recipes, rants, and all.