---interview by Marcia Peterson
WOW: What inspired you to write your entry, “Rainbows?”
C. L.: I was in a generative workshop when I was earning my MFA at Vermont College of Fine Arts, and our professor prompted us to write about light. I wanted to write about the crystal that made rainbows in my childhood kitchen, and makes rainbows now in my kids’ playroom. It ended up morphing into an essay about my three year old son and his gender fluidity that I found so magical and vexing, and a moment we shared a few days earlier as we tried to capture the light. The first few lines of “Rainbows” came out pretty much fully formed. Sometimes it takes different prompts to unlock what lives inside you, what’s waiting to come out. Sometimes someone merely has to ask a different question of you for you to understand exactly what you’ve been wanting to say.
C. L.: I find each part joyful and challenging in its own way. I love the wild chaotic creation part, and the methodical editing part though each have their hang ups. I think maybe the challenge is knowing, or deciding when a piece is done, deciding it’s good enough to send out, and strong enough to take criticism from or even the success of the real world.
C. L.: Writing requires (for me at least) a certain amount of emptiness in my life, meaningful time and space for the muse to do her work. As a busy mom, I know that’s usually the hardest thing to come by.
As we say in my house, though, it’s not about lack of time, it’s about priorities. Some days I have to prioritize my children and my home life, and those are wonderful things to put at the top of my list, but when I can carve out daily time for my writing, to go sit on the beach and watch the waves for thirty minutes, my muse comes back and wants to work. If you can make time to exercise, to watch your favorite show, to read, to read this even, you can find time to write. If you can’t, consider reading while your children play, or commit ten minutes to doing nothing, to day dream, to be present wherever you are. Don’t listen to anything, don’t look at your phone. Let your mind wander. The words will come.
When my kids were toddlers, I took my writing time on the weekend when my husband was the primary caretaker. I wrote on a post it note that I still have attached to my computer monitor the five things that constitute a writing life. Writing, Editing, Reading, Submissions and Community. If I don’t feel like writing, or I feel stuck editing, I can read. If that doesn’t spark my interest, I can engage with my writing community, watch a lecture or submit my work. All of those are important to build the writer you will become.
C. L.: For years, likely since we met, my friend Emily (who is a fabulous writer and a dear friend) has been recommending “The Anthropocene Review,” by John Green. It’s a book of essays disguised as reviews of various human-centered things, things specifically tuned to the author’s life so it’s almost a hybrid memoir. At the beginning of summer, Emily asked me if I had read it yet, and ashamed I hadn’t, I quickly found a thrifted copy and dove in. It’s a wildly fascinating, informative read that has made me quite a bit more interesting at parties. At least I like to think so.
C. L.: Thank you so much for having me! I’m truly honored “Rainbows” found a home at Women on Writing!
As far as general advice, it might help to remember that writing is iterative. Most of what we create is imperfect, followed by imperfect iterations until the story resembles itself, so don’t get hung up on the flaws. We have to first create the rough block of marble from nothing, then we can start to carve it into art.
It also helps me to remember that creation is separate from publishing. We can’t control how or when a piece is published, so you have to make the work the reward. The pleaser of crafting the thing has got to provide the benefit for doing it. Writing is supposed to be fun. Keep your work fun and weird and wild and painfully true. Try not to over edit it or form it to someone else’s aesthetics. Submit it widely when it’s ready; and I mean widely. Send it to a hundred journals or agents before you give up on a piece. Enjoy the process, trust your own taste, and you’ll write forever.





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