Crossing the Finish Line....

I have never been so bad at writing! The sentences that flowed from my fingers on the last day of NaNoWriMo (a long day on a train with the goal of almost 10,000 words) were full of [put something in here later] and mespellngs and Forgetting Where The Story WAs set. But that's kind of the goal of NaNo. To put the editor's mind away for a while (98% impossible when you are, say, ME) and just get the story OUT.

I had planned ahead, literally taking Plan Your Novel at the Barany School of Fiction. So I knew when I got stuck what questions to ask my characters, what details to look for, and I had mapped out the plot so I knew what had to happen in each chapter. But I felt like I was abusing the muse... who always knows just what to day, but takes her time. That's okay, me and my muses get into it a lot.

I got all the way through the last chapter with about 6,000 words to go and sat, stumped, staring out the window, until I thought to go through and look at the musical again. That juiced up another few scenes, and I got to 46,000 words. Then I remembered that the goal is to write 50,000 words in November and I realized how much writing I'd done AROUND the novel. I put my blog posts in, my wild hairs, my Christmas letter... so okay I cheated a little. So when I finished I felt a bit dirty and tired.

But then something magical happened. I was sitting in the Observation Car next to a John Grisham book without a cover, watching the late afternoon scenery go by, when someone came and picked the book up and sat next to me. A reader! A real reader, who takes 20 hour train trips and reads books that are on their last legs and literally lets the signatures fall away, putting this paperback to rest. We started chatting, and when I told him what I'd done, and pulled The Souls of Her Feet out of my backpack, his face lit up and he said he'd HEARD of me, and he'd SEEN this book before! He told me exactly what shelf he'd seen it on (in his mother's retirement home), and complimented the cover. He burst out, "I just met a REAL WRITER!"

*blush*


Did you hear that? He called me a REAL WRITER! To further enhance my Velveteen Rabbit moment, the two women on my other side both snapped up copies of my book, funding my NaNoWriMo Victory T-Shirt! I read them all some fresh new writing inspired by the golden light on the leaves. We all hardly minded that train was stuck waiting while the tracks cleared for about four hours...!

And when the technical writer who had "discovered" me confessed his longing to write more poetically. I whipped out my pen and drew a "Poetic License" on the back of a handout for my book.

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Thanks to a FOUR HOUR DELAY, I made it across the #nanowrimo finish line tonight! Thanks for all the encouragement and support @bethbarany @chrisbaty @nanowrimo @kauaiwritersconference and especially @theuniverse for sending me last-minute readers/cheerleaders on the train! #spontaneous #literaryreadings #magichour #trainbow #inspiration #leftovers #legroom #workspace #railroadlife #legroom #crashposition #ladieslounge #inmyelement #myglamorouswritinglife #writingslog #hatedit #didit #shittyfirstdraft #marathon #nanowrimo2019 #inthepipeline

A post shared by Kristen Caven (@generous_muse) on Nov 29, 2019 at 9:37pm PST

A few days later, I took my teachers, Ezra and Beth, to a NaNoWriMo wrap party in Berkeley. The host wore the celebratory horns, symbol of what I don't know, but pretty triumphant.

It was rather awe-inspiring to be in a room full of people who had also been through what I had. I couldn't believe some had done this sprint for eight years in a row. I don't know if I ever will, again. We all brainstormed titles for each others' novels and ate pizza.

When I got home I told Dave, "thats it, I'm done, I'm all out of words."

Until it was time to post another blog, at least!

The Bullying Antidote COBBLER

In SUMMER, 2013, Hazelden published The Bullying Antidote, culminating a 2-year writing adventure with my mother, and kicking off another one: publicity.

Writing and publicity require two opposite states of mind. One is introverted and quiet; the other is extroverted and chatty.

Here's a link to the Zorgos blog, where I'm chatty about bullying a few times a month.

Completion Satisfaction!

Sold! Twenty-one books! Gave some away, signed them all too....

Put that to the tune of 21 Guns and you'll get an idea of how I feel right now. Rockin' Out! Open heart! White light! Camp high!

The final book sales count was the icing on the cake. The cake, and the nourishing meal that preceded it, was the completion of a year of dreaming and scheming. Tonight I launched my book to the audience I wrote it for, and by for I mean to read it and in their honor. Tonight I sat behind my table and listened to stories about an amazing moment in history, by the people who made it. Tonight it was not about me.

President Jan stood up and talked about how she came to put Mills back together after it had been torn by the drama of the strike. She led the SPAM chant—"Strong Women, Proud Women, All Women, Mills Women"—a joke I made twenty years ago when I saw the "Strong Women, Proud Women, Mills Women, All Women" slogan (but took a stand against it in my book). We watched the old documentary and everyone told stories that filled in some of the mysteries. Did you know Mills College is the ONLY women's college that decided to go co-ed and then reversed the decision? One woman told about her school back east, Wells, that decided to go co-ed. The students went on a six week strike, including a 30-day hunger strike and a fundraising campaign, all to no avail. They let men in, and three quarters of the students left. Mills is the only women's college that mustered all its forces to make and keep its commitment.

I stood up and spoke a little, about how when I arrived at the strike there was nothing I could do to help, just observe. I was too stunned to speak, but I found my voice through drawing. Tonight I finally made my contribution. By helping the alumnae and the student activities office organize this emotion-filled evening of conversation and memory—a book launch party about something much greater than my book.

All night long some guy from the LA Times -- yes, THAT L.A. Times -- kept taking my picture. (I'm sure everyone felt the same way.) I was too surprised to protest. I was just grateful all the stress had subsided, and my cold sore had healed just in time. But the part my heart loved best was seeing old friends who have grown twenty years older, and who have become more of who they are. Kind of like I have.

At the end of the event, the Director of Student Life took the mike and sang "We are gentle, angry people, who are singing, singing for our lives." I hummed along. Then she sang, "We are perfectly revolting people..." And then the rowdy war-heroines of 1990 started chanting: "Woman energy! Woman energy! Women in a jeep!"

I really didn't want the night to end. I ended up sitting in the parking lot under the stars, talking to an old pal and listening to the stories of a recent grad with a bitchin' mohawk who is just getting into Roller Derby. (Ah, that old familiar would-that-I-were-queer longing...). I thanked myself for coming out to California to finish my college career at Mills. You meet the most interesting people here. And maybe, if you're lucky, you become one.

Let's Put On a Shoe!

I have some exciting news to share. It’s exciting enough that I’m finally getting a chance to visit New York City this summer. (Thank you, Jenny!) But by coincidence, my composer (who now lives in Florida), will be there at the same time...creating a serendipitous opportunity for...a staged reading! Also known as a “park and bark,” this is the first step in test-drive a new musical.
On August 4th, if you’re in the Big Apple, I'd like to invite you to come see The Souls of her Feet, formerly known as act one of my musical, Shoes, a Mirror, and a Big, Pink Rose. (Think Cinderella meets Rocky Horror.) Read More...

Mama's Got a Brand New Slog

As you may or may not know about me, I am plagued with a glorious chorus of clamoring muses. I've always wanted to offer them a regular pulpit, but seem to be too lazy, or too shy, or too busy, or just too distracted to submit my writing for a regular column somewhere. I blog irregularly (sorry, that sounds like T.M.I.) and randomly, but I never tell anyone about it.  Read More...