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

Passion and Fellowship

We ate cupcakes at our meeting today, heavy delicious cupcakes, each sporting a butter cream hat that doubled its size. Sweet, overwhelming indulgence. We were celebrating the reading of a member’s novel manuscript.

To write a whole novel is an astonishing act of perseverance and passion. That accomplishment deserves oversized cupcakes laden with butter cream and studded with high quality chocolate bits. My goodness! We indulged in reading gorgeous writing about Wyoming, an anti-dote to Annie Proulx’s eccentric wire-flogged people. We licked our fingers and sang praises, brightened by the sugar high. The book was very good.

The happily sated feeling reminded me of the conference of the Kentucky State Poetry Society we attended on Saturday. The upper room in the Kentucky Fudge Company in Harrodsburg was full of sunbeams, people who’d spent the whole day engaged in reading and writing poetry. Whenever two are gathered in the name of poesy, fellowship happens. Love comes down as a scorcher and blazes across the blank page. Something new is made. In communion. In sharing. In getting outside of the lonely mire of self-ness. Hallelujah for the community of passionate poets, for writers who dare to share their nascent forms of future literature, for that courage, for their discoveries, and for those who listen.

I am an introvert, a writer who gets snarly when interrupted, as my family can attest. They knock on the door and quickly pocket their fists to better to keep their fingers intact. Yet I have come to appreciate what the society of writers does for writing. As one poet said on Saturday, she had felt “different” all her life because of her love of language, until she met the poets in Harrodsburg. Others who knew the magic of creating experience out of words recognized her as kin. To that poet, to the society of poets, to kaboom, to all the books in utero, the poems, essays, plays, and stories yet to be published, I raise a cupcake of appreciation and take the biggest bite imaginable.

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Reading Out Loud

On December 6, we presented When The Bough Breaks to the public with a reading and a celebration at the Carnegie Center. I had forgotten in the midst of publishing, sewing, and marketing the book how wonderful the written work is. Each of us read five minutes and each of us made the work new again.

Words weigh more when read out loud. When reading silently to yourself from the page, you hear your own voice, your own incantations and prejudices. But when the author reads, you hear her intent, her emphases and pauses and, hence, her meanings, as her voice feels its way from word to word, stone to stone through rapids, over falls, along placid streams, into reflecting pools.

It felt as if I was hearing these poems and stories and essays for the first time. So, it seems, we begin again. I left that celebration brimming with good cheer. What a joy again to be part of this enterprise. What gladness at our individual and collaborative triumph. What gratitude for the reading public who appreciate this book, this venture, this claim.
Lynn

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Critique in a Fishbowl

On Saturday, September 12, Kaboom gave a presentation at the Kentucky Women Writers Conference.  We held a meeting as if the audience was not there.  As usual, we began with goal-setting.  As usual, Leatha arrived late, and as usual, we kept on going.  Each of us stated a writing goal for this week.  Goal-setting makes us accountable to the group.

We moved on to a live critique of four pages from “Blue Hen,” a chapter in my novel-in-progress.  The first round robin elicited such praise that I felt almost embarrassed, as if my fellow writers were exaggerating the good points for the audience. But because they explained how the piece worked and pointed out particular passages of support, I felt encouraged and pleased that my intent had been realized.  Then, of course, came the harder parts, the places where rhythm contradicted sense, where details were left out, where (strange) questions were raised.  (This is often my favorite part of hearing criticism because it makes me go back to the words and discover what other meanings lay hidden as I wrote but rose up bright and blinding for a reader.) (Read more…)

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