I recently went to the Erma Bombeck Writer’s Workshop and it was an incredible experience. There, I reconnected with some old friends, made new ones, listened to Wade Rouse/Viola Shipman give perhaps the best keynote in the history of ever, and attended a session by Estelle Erasmus on writing micro-memoirs. Maybe it doesn’t sound like much, but conveying anything meaningful in exactly 100 words is harder than you’d think.
Estelle is a prolific writer, teacher, and coach who has been my (and many other writers’) freelance fairy godmother for years. She’s unbelievably smart, canny, and generous and I love her so much. If you ever get the chance to meet her, do it. Go introduce yourself and then don’t be surprised if she remembers your name five years later and is also the first person to congratulate you online when you finally publish something.
But I digress…
I followed the advice she gave in her workshop, begged her for advice in an elevator the following day, and a couple of weeks later – my micro-essay was accepted by The New York Times as a Tiny Love Story.
You can find it on their website here.
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| Me and my sister during another ritual cleansing about two years after our brother’s death. |
Icy Clarity
My sister and I left our brother’s funeral like captives escaping, gravel flying behind us. We needed a ritual cleansing. The memorial was unbearable, just as our relationships with him had become. He was brilliant but had demons. We were furious at his drinking, furious at losing him when he was only 30. At the secret beach where we scattered his ashes, the sun glared down. We walked deep into the briny water, rocks stabbing our feet. Holding hands, we went under, shocked into icy clarity. We emerged numb, unable to feel the sharp edges of the shore beneath us. — Julianna Miner
