Books Are Like Besties

Books Are Like Besties

I equate the experience of reading a good book to sitting alongside my bestie and listening to her share a story in a raw and relatable way. I’m there in the story with her, her words evoking a variety of uncontained visceral responses.

I’ve been known to snort, laugh and cry in public places as I forget the reality of my surroundings and enter another world. Facial gymnastics are a telltale sign a reader is engrossed, as are involuntary squeaks and squeals. I recall watching one woman curled up in the lounge area of a cruise ship, her shoulders intermittently pumping, her head nodding and her hand straddled across her mouth attempting to silence her amusement. I could tell she was about to erupt – her whole body convulsed just before the raucous laughter exploded. Even funnier was her attempt to read an excerpt while gasping for breath in the build up to the punch line. The exact wording in the book didn’t matter at the time. I’d already connected with and befriended Sally because of her warped sense of humour. I was hooked. I wanted some of what she’d experienced and knew the book she was reading was written by a like-minded soul. Sally’s actions spoke volumes; her physical response went beyond the normal word of mouth recommendation.

Guy Browning’s Never Push When It Says Pull – Small Rules for Little Problems turned out to be an exquisite selection of musings that adeptly used thoughts, feelings and actions to make the reader feel part of the story. In it he weaves the milieu of the conditions of character and setting with words to bring the pages to life in a relatable manner. It’s a fine example of how to hone in on the minutest of details to embellish parts of a whole story.

.

About Philippa

Philippa Ross’ desire to eliminate waste of natural human and environmental resources fuels her work as a mentor, writer and speaker. She has integrated personal experiences, professional qualifications and a passion for the environment and quantum physics into roles she defines as a Human Ecologist and Enthusiologist. Her ability to empower people to find their True North and explore the connection between their internal and external worlds has undoubtedly been influenced by her great, great, great grandfather, Sir James Clark Ross, who used the earths magnetic field to navigate his way around both polar regions, discovering the North magnetic pole and the Ross Sea, Antarctica.

In this way, the written word is akin to a melodic arrangement of music where the lyrics and tempo create a harmonious symphony. Both have the power to communicate to the core and stir emotions in the body, which in turn feeds back a unique response, telling its own version of the original story.

Every composition embodies the essence of the creator, so it’s important to write from the heart. Pour your soul onto the page in the same way you would as if you were talking to your best friend – no holds barred and no mask of pretence. Be real and raw. Be YOU. Keep this friend at the forefront of your mind as you journey though the writing process, as it will help create depth for the relationship your reader has with your work. Once immersed in this practice, the intimate kinship will alleviate the pressure to write what you think people want to read and enable your true voice to shine through. You’ll find a deeper connection and a new best friend in yourself; one who can touch a community of like-minded people in a unique way.

It is also important to remember your writing style, just like different musical compositions, won’t appeal to the masses. Keep your ideal reader in mind. Envision that person as your ‘bestie,’ sitting alongside you as you share your story in your own unique way.

I’m sure neither Sally nor I were on Guy Browning’s radar when he wrote his book, but words have the power to bridge personal experiences for a broad spectrum of people. Thoughts, feelings and actions ultimately have a way of uniting us, and as writers we have to remember this when we enter the world within to bring our stories out.

Creating a Vision for Writing

Close your eyes to see. When my heart beckons me to write I find a quiet place to meditate and I ask my heart, “What do you want me to say?” This simple act of sitting in silence with my eyes closed allows me to hear the stories living inside my body. I tune into the...

My Triumvirate: Meditation, Mantra and Memoir

I’m in the early stages of writing my memoir. At this point, I’m hunting, gathering, pulling things out and looking to see if and how they fit. I’m reliving scenes, moments, memories. Some are painful. Some are lighthearted. I smile as I write about the lighthearted...

Can I Show You How to Begin?

Can I show you how to begin? Who wants to become a writer? And why? Because it’s the answer to everything. … It’s the streaming reason for living. To note, to pin down, to build up, to create, to be astonished at nothing, to cherish the oddities, to let nothing go...

9 Spiritual Principles to Boost Your Creativity

So many people tell me, 'I'd love to write, but I'm just not creative.' They speak as if creativity is an innate IQ or EQ or an extra nipple some people are born with which precludes the possibility of acquiring it. I think of creativity as a way of seeing, a...

Buoy

1 It is four years to the day. The pillow next to mine whispers this in my ear just before I open my eyes to the careless daylight. I wonder if it is a deficiency – perhaps a leak sprung in me after he died - that in all the time that has passed since we lay together...

A Loaf of Bread

‘I’ll have the one with the sesame seeds,’ I say pointing to the shelves of loaves, lined up like newborns in a maternity ward. The shop is cozy, a cubby-house of crispy sourdough, dark rye and milky coffee. Amir takes a sheet of translucent tissue paper and picks up...

We Gather Stars in the Dark

We Gather Stars in the Dark

My whole life changed when, at the age of 27, I was suddenly diagnosed with breast cancer.  At a time when my husband and I should have been focusing on our future, we filled our days with managing the side effects of my chemotherapy. Instead of starting a family we had to concentrate on my recovery from surgeries.  I needed a way to cope, clear my mind, and document my journey.

I turned to writing.

At first, I started a blog to keep my family and friends informed of my medical appointments. The more I wrote, the more my writing became a source of support and inspiration for me. As I sat alone in cold clinic rooms for scans and procedures, I would envision the comments left by others on my blog. I could feel the love and positive energy surrounding me like beacons twinkling in the night. I knew whatever happened, we would all be okay, because we had each other.

When I couldn’t sleep, I’d take out my computer and start typing.  At times, tears rolled down my face as my fingers typed faster than my emotions could keep up. I wrote things that I hadn’t yet taken the time to slow down and process. Often I would seek out little, sometimes humorous, moments in my life to write about to relieve the heaviness of the dark days.

Five years after that diagnosis we were blessed with our beautiful daughter through the help of a gestational surrogate.  I thought our story was ending with “happily ever after,” but less than four months later I learned my cancer had metastasized.

My cancer was no longer about pink ribbons.

.

About Janell

Janell Meier’s mission in life is to inspire others to be their own advocate, keep humor even in difficult times, and lean on others. She thrives on connecting and learning from others while educating on the importance of metastatic breast cancer research. Janell was the full scholarship recipient of Joanne Fedler’s 2018 Author Awakening Adventure and has used the opportunity to further grow as an emerging author while learning about herself. Writing has been a way to process and cope with her life experiences. Janell’s hope is that her young daughter won’t have to remember her only by her written words.

This time it meant I was fighting for my life.  I would never again hear the words, “You are cancer free.”  I was left wondering how long I would have to see my baby grow up.  At the young age of 33, I had already been to too many funerals for my friends that had passed away from metastatic breast cancer.  This second diagnosis left me facing a new plot that could have an entirely different resolution.

One day, while at the cancer center for treatment, I met a four-year-old girl and her family. She wore a princess shirt and her family of three lit up with excitement as they told me about their recent vacation to Disney World.  Our baby was about to turn one year old so, naturally, I saw in them my own little family. It was then that I decided I wasn’t going to wait for my baby to grow up to make all sorts of memories with her. Months later, I learned that cancer took that mother away from her family forever.  Though my interaction with that young woman was short, she became a shooting star in my life and made more of an impact on me than she was ever able to realize. Being inspired by her example, I’ve been lucky enough to have written about my daughter’s first time taking off in an airplane, and her first time experiencing the power and beauty of the ocean.

My little girl is now three and I continue to document as much of my life as I can.  I jot down ordinary moments that touch my heart.  Whether it be song lyrics, a simple interaction with my daughter, or a memory of my own childhood.  I seek out the tiny daily miracles and interactions in life that can be easily overlooked. I find these moments can be as magical as a blazing comet in the evening sky.

When you take the time to look, you’ll find amongst all the darkness, your life story is sprinkled with many stars. Parts of our life storylines are laid out for us.  All of us face our own struggles.  The thing is that we can strengthen and inspire others by sharing bits about our experiences.  We each have the power to light the way for others who may be in their own dark of night.

What Writers Can Learn from a Cake Mix

In the 1950s, General Mills launched cake mix under the Betty Crocker brand. Everything was in powdered form. It was aimed at the busy housewife – all she had to do was add water and bake. But surprisingly, the cake mix didn’t sell. A team of psychologists was brought...

Getting Lost in Our Own Bullsh*t – the Excuses We Use to Not Write

Honestly I’ve heard them all. Hell, I’ve used them all. I’ve had ten books published, have six or seven partially-written manuscripts saved in three different computers and dozens of journals, have mentored hundreds of writers, and even published a few through Joanne...

A Simple Exchange of Niceties

Perhaps the truth depends on a walk around the lake. - Wallace Stevens The first available appointment was for next week only. That was in nine days time. Enough time for hands, brains, eyelids and knee joints to form according to the charts. I took a walk. I needed...

People with Passion Interview with Xanti Bootcov

'I'm terrible at spelling and my grammar is horrible,' Xanti said to me. 'I think I am even dyslexic. But I have a story I need to write, and I need your help.' It has taken two and a half years of dedicated commitment, but finally, today, Joanne Fedler Media is proud...

After I Blow the Whistle, I’m in Your Hands

Several years ago, one of my books published by one of the top five publishing houses in the world did so dismally I contemplated giving up writing. It had taken two precious years of my life to research and write it, and all my publisher could say was, ‘I’m sorry,...

What Would Happen If You Just Stopped?

Yep, you know what I mean. Just stopped. Did nothing. If you'd asked me this question during the past 18 months while I worked 14 hour days, 7 days a week, it would have baffled me. I love hard work. I've got what we call 'zeitzvleis' - 'sitting-flesh' - I can do...

7 Things the Writing Community Can Do for You

7 Things the Writing Community Can Do for You

Being part of a writing community has changed so much for me. I have been a writer my entire life, but I have almost always navigated the ocean of words on my own. Only in the last year have I come to realize what it means to my journey to have other oarsmen in the boat with me, fellow travelers reaching as I reach, all of us gaining momentum from the knowledge that we are moving through the same storms en route to our individual ports. Surely the salt on our brows is the same; truly the wind filling our sails blown from islands of inspiration.

Alright. That’s enough of that ship.

It is precisely in avoidance of such a collapse into cliché that I can turn to my writing community. They are there to help me keep my grammar in check, and to encourage me to delve deeper into my characters or setting. They commiserate over growing piles of rejection letters. For all the obvious reasons, I am grateful for those trusted individuals I have finally learned to recognize as an integral part of my writing process, but there is more to it than that. There was a learning curve, as I slowly acquainted myself with what it means to engage with other writers, and its particular sweep revealed a plethora of subtle advantages.

  1. I was able to practice sharing my story, not simply through edited selections of writing, but also through comments and discussion. This process has helped me to become clearer on what I want to share as I write my book, to experiment with exposition versus scene, and to better appreciate what others find engaging and valuable.

2. In those first tentative shares of my writing, I opened myself up to feedback, even if it was initially on the saccharine side (most writers, I find, are blessed with the instinct to gingerly handle such fledgling offers). Practice at dealing with critique is necessary, and learning to do so gradually allowed me to build my way up to a place where I became eager for the feedback, knowing that it will improve my work and make me a more critical thinker.

.

About Jennifer

Jennifer wrote her first poem at the age of six, and she has been involved in the world of words as an editor, a blogger, and an article writer. She is published in and shortlisted for a growing number of local, national, and international electronic and print publications.Most recently she had an essay, titled Bairnlorn, appear in the Globe & Mail, placed first in the My City, My Words poetry contest, and wrote and handcrafted a board book for her son.

She also tells terrible jokes.

  1. Joining online forums, workshops, and meet-up groups introduced me to a wider array of people who provided me with the opportunity to think beyond the confines of personal perspective, and to make some thoughtful assumptions about what others might read in a particular passage. I can look at my writing with an eye for what others might take from it now, whereas before I could only see it subjectively. One of the best scholastic exercises I ever undertook was having another person read something I had written out loud. I was fortunate in that the person I was paired with was the one in the class furthest from my own experiences. The difference in literal voice – the timbre, the pauses, the emphases – was astounding, and it made me realize how what we hear in our own heads as we write may not be close to how it is interpreted by our readers.
  1. Simply listening proved invaluable. In witnessing the stories of others, I became grounded in the knowledge that while my own tale is unique and needs to be told, that it is also just one amid those of everyday people, living lives of joy, tragedy, confusion, suspicion, and resolution. There is great comfort in knowing how relatable each of our individual threads can be.
  1. I became connected to the hard work that I need to be doing. Occasionally, this happened because I could sense the hallow excuses of others and began to more easily recognize them when they came tumbling out of my own mouth. But mostly, it was because as I listened to the members of my writing community comment on what they were giving up to write, I found myself moved to push through the inspirational droughts.
  1. It gave me cause to celebrate their wins – collaborations, shortlists, awards, personal word count bests, filling in longstanding plot holes – and to know that each step is in itself a victory. It helped me view firsthand the reality that successes are possible.
  1. I realized that when I stay connected to my writing community that I stay connected to my writing.

That last point was probably the most important one for me. I know now that finding my community is one of the biggest things that I changed to move from writing being a hobby to it being what I do every day. Somehow, in all the years that I dabbled in what I claimed as a passion, it never occurred to me that surrounding myself with similarly focused people could help me to make my craft a priority.  Knowing others have some sort of expectation of me as a writer – whether to compose a poem, dig into research or an outline, or deliver a finished chapter for feedback – makes me take myself more seriously. And it manifests as a driving force that keeps my pen moving across the page and my fingers dancing across the keys.

Author Potential Profile Assessment

Discover your hidden strengths as well as the areas you need to build on to become an author.

Dueling with a Four-Year-Old

There is a world, a ‘place of tomorrow,’ Kahlil Gibran writes, in which our children’s souls dwell, which ‘we cannot visit, not even in our dreams.’ That world of fairies and elves my daughter inhabits is a familiar, beckoning place. I delight in her lilting musings...

Swimming with Details

I just returned from a family trip to the Big Island of Hawaii where we celebrated my parents’ 60th wedding anniversary. We experienced vast views of lava-filled fields against turquoise waters, watched white puffs of whale blows, cheered breaches of power, savored...

The Birth of Your Story

I wrote a little poem for you. The Birth of Your Story Avid reader book lover writer at heart had your family or let that ship pass by called ‘smart’ from the start rescued and raised others done your duty left when you needed to stayed too long in ‘maybe’ and...

The Art of Shutting Up and Keeping Secrets

When we start writing, we get excited and want to share our happy news like a newly pregnant mother-to-be. We want to blab to everyone, ‘Hey, I’m writing a book.’ It’s hard to keep a secret as big and beautiful as this. But we must. If we care about what we’re doing,...

A Room of One’s Own

When I was five years old, during a routine game of hide-n’-seek, I hid in the cupboard in the spare room, amongst the hanging fur coats and long sequined dresses my mother would never wear again. I was there a long time. Even when my seeker had ‘given up’ and rallied the adults to help find me, though I heard people calling my name, I kept silent, not wanting to betray the sanctuary of my hiding place.

One Story in an Immeasurable Community

Some years back, when I had half the number of children I do now and half the ache in my heart, I found my first writing community. It was at the Centre for the Book, a historically solid structure in the middle of Cape Town, close to the austere buildings which...

Nobody Walks This Earth Alone

Nobody Walks This Earth Alone

Nobody walks this earth alone.

TS Eliot wrote, ‘April is the cruellest month,’ but he got that wrong. It is June.

Yeesh, it was a bad month.

My work threw up one hardcore challenge after the other. I barely had a chance to catch my breath before the next one hit. There were moments when I questioned why I’m doing what I’m doing. It was that bad.

And just when my skin was at its thinnest, my darling cat Tanaka died in my arms after a friendship long, loyal and loving. Letting her go has hurt hard.

Joanne and Tanaka

It’s been every shade of sorrow and adversity. Which makes it sound personal. Of course, nothing is ever personal, unless we make it so. The universe offers us a mirror. Whether we want to look into it, is our choice.

Mary Oliver reminds us that ‘all things are inventions of holiness, some more rascally than others.’ I need this tattooed somewhere visible. Maybe my palm.

I’ve spent the past few weeks doing a soul inventory. Managing our grief requires both discipline and surrender. To see past our own blind spots can cause whiplash. We need strong self-love in the first place to undertake a journey of self-improvement and take responsibility for everything that’s showing up in our lives even when it feels like someone else’s fault. It relies on the bedrock of faith that we are strong enough to walk away from something that ‘doesn’t feel right,’ or acknowledge when we’ve been jerks. It rests on the belief that people will forgive and love us even when we make mistakes.

At times like this, we need help. We need others. We need to know that when we call out ‘I’m drowning, throw ropes, send oxygen, make soup,’ that others are listening and will act.

Sometimes, we need to be rescued.

Joanne Fedler

Joanne Fedler

Author, writing mentor, retreat leader. I’m an internationally bestselling author of nine books, inspirational speaker and writing mentor. I’ve had books published in just about every genre- fiction, non-fiction, self-help, memoir – by some of the top publishing houses in the world. My books have sold over 650 000 copies and have been translated in a range of languages. Two of my books have been #1 Amazon bestsellers, and at one point the German edition of Secret Mothers’ Business outsold Harry Potter- crazy, right?

I was resuscitated by family (daughters who bought flowers and teenage sons who offered ‘Let me cook dinner tonight’); friendships, team members and the community of writers I work with.

We’ve all just witnessed the miraculous rescue of thirteen people from what seemed like inevitable death in flooded caves in Thailand by an international team of expert divers, Navy Seals and doctors. Don’t know about you, but I’m a weepy mess, overcome by this show of solidarity and collective genius. There is literally nothing we cannot achieve as a human race if we pull together.

Caroline Myss in The Anatomy of Your Health, reminds us to stay connected to a life ecosystem: ‘Be part of a group whose collective soul you care about, and with people who notice when you are missing. Nobody walks this earth alone. Find the people you want to grow with – and let them know, “you can count on me.” This is how a human being’s health thrives.’

If you are reading this, I want you to know that you are a huge part of what sustains me.

As a huge thank you, I’m going to be sending a specially designed gift in every monthly newsletter – it will either be a free chapter of a new book; an inspirational infographic; or some other love-attachment to bring you joy.

1

I was recently asked by The Excellence Reporter to share my thoughts on what the meaning of life is (you know, that little question). Here’s the short video I recorded in response:

In the coming months, Joanne Fedler Media will be publishing four books – we are SO excited to bring you some brand new authors and share the work of their hearts and lives with you. Soon.

 

For the Brave Ones

When I was asked to curate a series of blog posts for 16 days of activism against gender violence, I quickly discovered I was unprepared. I had to approach these stories like a child on the shoreline of a cold, dark ocean. I was scared to rush into the immensity of...

Writing about Ourselves So That Others Will Read It

  When we write about ourselves, it’s not dissimilar to writing about a fictional or imaginary character. In Hemingway’s iceberg, we see that what we need to know about a character is vast compared to what we show. This depth of knowledge helps us to...

Grabbing the Reins of Creativity

I remember as a kid thinking creativity was this wild, carefree, easy-going emotion that you just got into, rather like finger-painting. But as I have started using the innovative side of my brain as an adult, I realise what a fragile, ethereal thing creativity really...

Not Pretty Enough

I was never a pretty girl. Not for want of trying or wishing. But there it was. I longed to be someone other people refer to as ‘adorable’ but there was always too much of me for it not to sound ironic. My father put it straight very early on. ‘You will never be a model, my darling,’ he said as if it truly did not matter.

Right Turn

'Right Turn' From the book The Turning I chose bona fides and other Latin terms you find in law books for it was easier, they claimed to fall back on precedent and stare decisis than a line Tennyson wrote that’s etched in your soul. I turned left at logic not right at...

Bedrock

Virginia can’t say if she is claustrophobic herself. She’s never been this far inside a cave before. The little spelunking she did as a child along the coast of the Western Cape was hide-and-seek with bare-footed cousins, in sea-carved rocky alcoves.

One Story in an Immeasurable Community

One Story in an Immeasurable Community

Some years back, when I had half the number of children I do now and half the ache in my heart, I found my first writing community. It was at the Centre for the Book, a historically solid structure in the middle of Cape Town, close to the austere buildings which housed the Supreme Court and Advocates Chambers. It was a place where I felt at ease.

I took a course that lasted six weeks, meeting once a week and run by the warm and empathetic Anne Schuster who made me understand that it was indeed what I needed to do.  I had to embrace that ounce of instinct that I must write. There I sat, sometimes staring out of the heavy, dark-wooded sash windows at the world outside,  a little embarrassed tear escaping down my cheek when I started to write what I was really feeling. It took every nerve in my body to read my first piece to the group after we’d done our assignment, but that was the beginning.

Everything has a beginning.

By the end of the course, I had dispelled – for myself at least – the notion that you needed grey hair and a life of intrigue to tell your story. The women who shared and spoke and revealed some of themselves in their writing helped me to grasp that. The feeling that I am a fraud, an imposter, that no-one cares, that no-one will read what I write is the thing that plagues me the most. It is the fear of offending others, and the acknowledgement that sometimes even memory is fiction, which makes writing such an arduous process. ‘Write as though they were dead’ is the common refrain, but my imagination doesn’t often stretch that far, and I’d rather be grateful that they’re not. But even during my nervous start as a writer, the community of women writers there helped me to feel that my particular story had value.

Since those early days, I have sought out several other writing communities – through online writers’ groups, online writing courses, writing workshops and among like-minded friends who are interested in words and books. Without doubt, these are the pillars that hold me up when the feeling is one of fruitlessness.

.

About Dominique

Dominique Malherbe has been writing since she was a young girl, documenting her life in various little journals since she was a teenager, trying to understand the significance of it all. As expected of her from a family of lawyers, she studied law and practiced for some years, specializing in tax and corporate law. Married life and four children threw her slightly off course, and she spent the last decade lecturing law as a way of trying to find the elusive work/life balance. In 2014, she published her first non-fiction narrative, entitled From Courtrooms to Cupcakes, and is in the process of publishing her next book, Somewhere In Between. She lives in beautiful Cape Town with her husband, four children and three boisterous hounds.

I recall being particularly enthralled by the sense of ‘real authors’ at my first writer’s group meetings, by the strong and successful writers like Deon Meyer, Mike Nicol and Joanne Hichens. Like a sponge, I soaked up their stories as ‘beginner’ writers. I felt that perhaps through a process similar to osmosis with plants, if I was just in their company and sitting close to them, I would be infused with the essential characteristics that make up becoming a writer. It mattered not that these mentors of the craft told mostly crime fiction or other fiction stories, and that what I wanted to write was real and about women, for women. I listened intently to how they did it and to what mattered most, and I believed I was learning.

I wanted to learn fast, for I am impatient and a little impossible. That urgency is greater now that I’m aware that the gift of time is no longer on my side (I am already past half way, for heaven’s sake).  I know that there are probably not enough years to read what I need to learn in the writing craft, let alone write the stories that swirl around my head.  But I recently read something profound and beautifully poignant – something that calmed my haste – in Elizabeth Strout’s My Name is Lucy Barton:

“You’ll write your one story many ways. Don’t ever worry about story. You only have one.”

Writing communities, whether they are the perceived ‘real authors’ – those who have written extensively and published often – or the equally talented and valuable fledglings – just starting out on their journeys in words – will provide you with your wings to write your one tale.

They have for me.

Like my number of children, my writing community has doubled since my first course nearly two decades ago. And in understanding that my one story has many versions, I will continue to rely on the writing community, because writing – though often a lonely pursuit – is infinitely lonelier without community. And it is infinitely more rewarding with one.

Are You Using Protection?

In my early twenties, I went on a self-defence course, where I learned how to puncture someone’s Adam’s apple with a key and to perfect the knee-to-groin move should such unfriendly gestures be called for. I swallowed little pills and purchased boxes of prophylactics...

8 Reasons to Write

If you've been putting off writing, this one is for you. We spend a lot of time fending off the 'it's-narcissistic' saboteur, the 'I-suck-at-grammar' bogeyman and the 'who-will-give-a-damn?' golem. But seriously folks, as the Buddha said, 'the problem is, you think...

The Stories Our Wardrobes Tell

‘Can I wear this?’ my teenage daughter asked, holding up a black silk shirt from my wardrobe. ‘I need a black top for drama and I don’t have one.’ ‘Ummmm….’ I paused, remembering that the last time I wore that shirt, it was ripped off me in a moment of passion by a...

Let’s Take Care of Each Other’s Stories

They tried to bury us.They didn’t know we were seeds.- Mexican proverb On days when I didn’t have to deliver a lecture to first year law students back in the late 1990’s, I worked at People Opposing Women Abuse. It was a volunteer job two days a week. I shared an...

Unlikely Saviour

It startedin an unlikely encounteron the Durban beachfrontafter he came back earlyfrom one of his easy lays,and suggested a walkon the promenade.The night skyleaned in aswe spoke in that fraughtdeeply subtexted wayof two peopleigniting a fusebetween them.Then – like...

That Dear Little Smear

When that big spunk of a Phys Ed teacher broke my virginity at eighteen, my mother did two things: she put me on the pill and sent me for a pap smear. I didn’t like the sound of that. (Who gets smeared? What is ‘pap’?) Next thing, I was on my back, feet in stirrups...