Are words as tasty as cookies?

Posted on December 6, 2013 by beverlymagid in Beverly's Blog

I haven’t posted since August and here it is December, with Chanukah just past and Christmas and New Year’s on the way. How could it be 2014 when I haven’t gotten used to writing 2013 on checks or correspondence? To be perfectly honest the last date I really paid attention to was the coming of the new millennium, year 2000.

But now with the holidays, a friend’s party is coming up and each guest was request to make a little something homemade for each of the other guests. Anyone who knows me even superficially knows I can cook but not bake and even my cooking is not the kind that gets gifted around town. Some of the other participants are great chefs, bakers, artists, bon vivants, but hey, I thought, I’m a writer. Why not give the gift of words? What could be more personal or creative, albeit a little schmaltzy, but who cares? It’s the holidays when sentiment should reign supreme. I never said I was Plato, Shakespeare or even Dear Abby, but I can and did put together 12 different thoughts, most of which occurred to me at three o’clock one morning. Since these are meant for others, I won’t reveal the contents. But if you’re thinking of what to do, with a personal touch, you, too, might want to send a few words to your friends and neighbors. (Just to make it more palatable I’m enclosing a little snack pack of homemade spiced nuts to go with the words.)

Beverly Magid

Beverly's background was in publicity and journalism, but now it's writing novels. Historical fiction mostly, female protagonist, ordinary women in extraordinary situations. The new book, Where Do I Go, will focus on Leah Peretz in 1908,on the Lower East Side, fighting the horrors of garment sweat shops. Exciting female empowerment!

10/19/19
He sits in his office, looking down at the world, grunting orders, hearing nothing
He sits in his office, ignoring the cries of the world, scarfing burgers, feeling nothing
He sits in his office, surfing the dials, understanding nothing
What is this, not a man, not animal, vegetable or mineral
Who is this, not a heart, a brain, just callous indifference
Pretending to be human, but no blood flows through those calcified veins,
No breath inflates those shrunken lungs,
No thought animates the sclerotic mind.
Who is this, what is this, why is this,
A heavenly mistake, a misfit of ungodliness,
Bombarding the world with harmful prattle,
Sitting in his office, clutching his teddy close to his massive chest,
Sitting in his office, striking out at all who live,
Sitting in his office, a mass of deadly corruption,
Waiting to be taken away to the dung heap of mistakes.
Forever forgotten, forever reviled, forever removed.

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I’ve been taking classes with Jack Grapes since last fall, after an absence of ten years.i started then for the same reason as now: I felt creatively depleted and need new energy. But I’m more attuned to it now, the exercises are giving me more power and interestingly enough a lot of it is coming out in poems. I’m not so arrogant that I call myself a poet, but I’m definitely coming out with the poems. Jack concentrates on the process, in his Method of Writing, not the story, but the amazing thing is, by concentrating on the process and some of the exercises, the story or content just pours out.#beverlymagid #sownintears #wheredoigo #flyingoutofbrooklyn

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Who would have believed I started writing poetry? Not me. Not since high school. Then, I didn’t know how to translate feelings into any other form. Nothing good, but full of emotion. Now after a couple of courses with Jack Grapes and his Method of Writing classes, I, with a little encouragement, have realized that I don’t have to wait for a novel to formulate in my head, that I can express myself in any manner I so choose. It’s been very freeing and most satisfying. I encourage everyone to just break free and let your imagination soar. You can figure out later what to do with it with as many drafts that are necessary. In the meantime, just fly.

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A trip not only opens your eyes to the beauty in the world but also our connection to the land, to the strangers who inhabit it, who soon become friends, to the fragile yet strong tie that connects us all. A trip to Alaska in the most glorious fall colors time, which everyone kept exclaiming was unusual and perfect re-inspired me to the friendship of people around the globe and the glory of nature. Undeveloped spaces still exist and people still want to reach across the divide (albeit not in Wash.DC) so it gives me hope that we might survive the chaos occurring today.
PS if you’re in Los Angeles come to my Author’s Talk at the Sherman Oaks LIbrary on Moorpark October 1 at 6:30pm. I’ll be discussing my current novel WHERE DO I GO, and the challenges which faced immigrants in the early 1900’s in New York City.

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A real slump, that’s what Trump has done to my writing. I keep looking for some idea that will light my passion, carry me through the dark days and starless nights. A book requires more than a fleeting spark, it needs a steady conflagration that lifts you up and keeps you moving. Not giving up but still happy that the third novel, WHERE DO I GO, kept me going even after two major accidents.

Hope you all got your copy, it’s about a woman who didn’t give up either.

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I kept thinking that I would come up with another idea which would hopefully blossom into a story that then evolved into a novel. But that was before kids were ripped away from their parents, migrants were described as infesting our country, SCOTUS upheld a travel ban, downgraded unions, refused to rule on gerrymandering, Congress refusing to curb the President’s power which could lead to a possible disintegration of our democracy, and that is only a few of our current calamities. My stomach is in knots and my brain is fried. Fiction will have to wait until I can concentrate on made up stories versus real life chaos. The midterms is my obsession right now and working to flip the Congress and now stop confirmation of any of Trump’s Court nominee.

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