KaBooM WritersKaBooM Writers

Welcome to the online presence of KaBooM, a writing group that has sustained the creative lives of a diverse group of women for over a decade. We hope that getting to know us will inspire you, too!Welcome to the online presence of KaBooM, a writing group that has sustained the creative lives of a diverse group of women for over a decade. We hope that getting to know us will inspire you, too!

Welcome to the online presence of KaBooM, a writing group that has sustained the creative lives of a diverse group of women for over a decade. We hope that getting to know us will inspire you, too!

The KaBooM Writers Notebook: Our Blog

Clearing the way for discovery

By Gail, February 16th, 2010 | Click to Comment

As I write uncharacteristic weather is demanding energy and attention and this morning while I shoveled drive and walks yet again, my mind turned mildly allegorical.  Born in Canada and sojourning in a half dozen different climatic zones, I’ve developed a discipline towards snow removal that, on reflection, serves me well when I apply it to my writing work.

As soon as conditions permit, I clear what’s on the ground: this causes my children, raised in Kentucky, no end of bafflement.  “Why bother?” they demand (hoping to dissuade me from insisting on their involvement in my odd behavior).  Because they asked, I delight in pointing out the advantages of my method.

Doing the work immediately means I get a sense of conditions “in the field.”  I know how the wind feels, I see up close what kind of snow this is.  Once I’m out, I notice details I’d never have seen from the window or on a quick scurry from warm house to car—the weather ceases to be just the stuff I have to slog through, and begins to present unique joys (this morning’s dusting, for example, had those large crystals that reflected jeweled light).

In addition, keeping up with the task means it’s rarely overwhelming: I live in Central Kentucky where the snowfall is never heavy.  Though my back and knees could never handle a deep snow, regular moderate effort serves me well here.

In fact, there are unexpected surprise benefits for my having simply done the work.  Yesterday, though the temperature never officially rose above freezing, the simple act of clearing what was on the ground meant that the day’s light reflected off the surrounding banks of snow and heated up the exposed drive and walks, so that by the day’s end everything was completely clear, down to the pavement.   Oh, sure, it snowed again last night, but this morning there was no accumulated, hard-packed neglect that threatens underneath this morning’s small collection.  In past snows, I’ve seen neighbors hacking away at dangerous ice once things begin to melt; our regular effort means our small plot harbors no hazards that demand such hard labor.

The analogy breaks down, of course, at many levels.  But I’m reminded that regular attention to the writing prevents despair and the feeling of defeat, and leaves the way clear for inspired discoveries to shine unencumbered.

Comments (0) — Categorized under: Creativity, Gail Koehler, Setting Goals, Uncategorized — Tags: , , , , ,

Unclenching my fists

By Gail, January 19th, 2010 | 1 Comment

By this third full week of January it’s just about time for my annual re-setting of those freshly minted New Year’s resolutions full of good writing intentions —  the ones, that is, that don’t seem to be gaining quite the purchase in the soil of my daily routine I’d wanted them to.

In fact I’m reminded again of why I swore off old-style resolutions years ago.  Gritting teeth and screwing courage may see me through a tough temporary patch but they aren’t long-term strategies that endure.  Just try holding a clenched fist for two minutes; okay, try one.  It’s exhausting.  And there’s not much you can get done with a clenched fist.  One of my favorite quotes is from Aldolfo Perez Esquival, recipient of the 1980 Nobel Peace Prize:  “We cannot sow seeds with clenched fists.  To sow we must open our hands.”  While he was talking about social justice and not writing, I am struck by his image of a fist clenched so tightly that the hand is useless for productive labor.  As a habitual  fist-clencher, this image has power for me.

So instead of trying to force myself into writing habits that I’ve heard work for other people, my goal this week is to ask myself questions that help open to discovery: what does work, today, in my particular circumstance?  How can I move from “fitting my writing in” to giving it a place of honor in my day?  And what seeds can I sow to nourish my developing discipline?

Comments (1) — Categorized under: Gail Koehler, Setting Goals —

Making books, making meaning

By Gail, November 24th, 2009 | Click to Comment

One evening last week, several members of KaBooM led a Lexington Girl Scout group in the how-to of handmade book craft.  We showed them When the Bough Breaks, certainly.  But because our time was short and these young women deserved an opportunity to make their own books as places to set words to paper, one of our goals was to provide them a chance to make something beautiful they could take home.  Soon, ten sets of hands were running fingers over paper choices; wrestling with bulldog clips and paper awls; pulling thread through beeswax; and enjoying success with Japanese binding—a technique very different from what we used for our anthology, but one just right for first-time book makers.

Bulldog clips hold multiple pages firm as they are worked into a book.

Bulldog clips hold multiple pages firm as they are worked into a book.

Coating thread with natural beeswax before sewing.

Coating thread with natural beeswax before sewing.

Of course we wanted them to take away more than just beautiful handmade books.  We told them that publishing can mean many things, as setting words to one sheet of paper and presenting them as a gift to someone special is one way that writing moves out into the world.  You have the ability to do this, we urged these young writers.

Scoring the cover folds with bone folders and rulers.

Scoring the cover folds with bone folders and rulers.

We made sure they knew that before we began our own project, we didn’t even know what we needed to learn to ensure our anthology became reality.  Nonetheless here we are, at a particularly exhilarating part of the journey to print.

Book makers displaying the visual aspect of the evening's success.

Book makers displaying the visual aspect of the evening's success.

What we took away was less physically tangible than the crafted objects they proudly displayed in this group picture.  That evening my pockets were full with the energy in the room, the shared delight in accomplishment, the heartfelt appreciations.   Since then I’ve reflected that the fierceness of purpose I took away has far more to do with the making of meaning than of making only a pretty object.  The books we make are fine work because the freight they carry matters deeply to us.   That, of all they took from our time together, is what I most desire those young writers remember and take to heart.

Comments (0) — Categorized under: Gail Koehler —

Try This

By Gail, October 27th, 2009 | Click to Comment

For several years, I’ve been privileged to lead a gathering of wordsmiths in “Writing Practice” at the Carnegie Center, where for an hour and a half once a week we do short timed writings in response to specific prompts.  These prompts can be as simple as single words or phrases: one popular prompt collection includes paint chips of bright or unusual colors with evocative names: “blush,” “forest light,” “firecracker.”

The point is to commit to write without stopping, without thinking through labored connections; to write quickly and from our deepest places, burning through false starts and second guesses because there simply isn’t time for unproductive dithering.  Often, writing this way captures an energy of mind our more considered writing lacks.  Frequently, small bits of real treasure are uncovered.  We immediately read these pieces aloud.  Because these pages are raw,  critiques are not appropriate.   Instead, reading aloud releases the words, provides a small public place for them to be heard, and allows some all-important distance between the writer and the pages that have just been filled.  Sometimes what’s read is so fresh and sharp it surprises everyone in the room, including the writer.

And that treasure I mentioned?  Many of us take it away and, in private writing spaces, allow it to open even further.  Award-winning poems, serendipitous solutions to narrative problems, and satisfying essays have all had their beginnings in writing practice.  This is the kind of practice that keeps a word-yogi limber.  At their roots, the words practice and practical come from the Greek praktikos which means ‘concerned with action.’   Writing practice is one way to make our commitments to writing active, to take them from vague good intentions and transform them into embodied reality.

Writers' notebooks

But you don’t have to wait to find a group to try this kind of “capture.”   One of the reasons we chose to include our “Try This” exercises at the end of each piece in our anthology When The Bough Breaks was to encourage our readers to engage in their own creative process.   Our “Try This” pieces are full of questions designed to nudge, suggest, and encourage the reader to pick up a pen and let that ink flow.

Why not make an appointment with yourself this week?  Come on—set a timer, pick up a prompt, and Try This.

A further note: Writing Practice is a tradition Laverne Zabielski initiated more than a decade ago, indebted to Natalie Goldberg’s Writing Down The Bones, where in her chapter “First Thoughts” she lists “rules” to make timed writings a place where one can “explore the rugged edge of thought.”

Comments (0) — Categorized under: Gail Koehler, Writing Exercises —

Thoughts on the Conference Panel

By Gail, September 17th, 2009 | 2 Comments

It’s been five days since our panel at the Kentucky Women Writer’s Conference; we’ve received heartening feedback from those who participated and are grateful to all who sent us notes and comments.

For those who couldn’t make it, a brief recap: we planned the panel intent on being succinct, and so briefly told three stories—how KaBooM began; how the anthology took shape as our collective project; and how the physical book became a tangible art object.  We offered specific suggestions on the inner workings of writing groups, such as holding members accountable to writing goals set weekly.  And we demonstrated a critique method that both honored the writing process while demanding the rigor of a continually developing craft.

What we did not emphasize was the world’s deep need for the work contained between two hand-crafted covers. A friend who’d not been at the conference asked me, the day after, to read a few pages of When the Bough Breaks. After a few lines from several pieces, she looked at me with wide eyes and said: “This is a good book!”  I thought “Well, of course it is!”

Jan introduces our panel at the Ky. Women Writers Conference

Jan introduces our panel at the Ky. Women Writers Conference

(Read more…)

Comments (2) — Categorized under: Gail Koehler —