The Wordstock Mystery
November 9, 2008
Dashing across the street -- racing light showers -- I arrive at the Oregon Convention Center just in time for readings by Monica Drake and Marc Acito at Wordstock. I'll tell Marc's story tomorrow. Monica -- who has written the brilliantly funny CLOWN GIRL, goes first, reading a chapter from a novel she is writing. I have heard an earlier carnation of that chapter because we are in Workshop together. It is fresher and funnier than I remember. Lately, we haven't heard much about Georgie, the new mom, who, in this chapter, thinks she's being called back at her work, post-pregnancy, to introduce a luminary at a conference, where the stars are actor Johnny Depp and numerous literary figures. Georgie's thrilled anticipation over whom she will be introducing, mingles with despair over the breast milk dotting her gorgeous green silk and hemp blouse.
Minutes before the performance today, I run into Monica just outside the room where some fifty people await her. She's on the cellphone, she waves to me, her eyes dart wildly from corner to corner of the convention center. She communicates with me by key words. I know what she means. Any mother would.
But it is now 11:30am, and Monica has taken the stage not knowing who has her four-year old daughter. She reads four words from her chapter, and her phone goes off. No one is on the other end. She briefly explains to the audience that she can't find her four-year old daughter who was sent off with one friend, but now might be with that friend's husband. I'm sitting in the front row, and cannot imagine the tension she must feel. Perform. Where's my daughter. Oddly, these are the feelings that Georgie has -- the new mom in her story.
Motherhood doesn't turn on and off. A few years ago, I was on the air and learned of an earthquake in Chile. One of my sons was in Chile with a group from Outward Bound. In between newscasts, I called the home office in North Carolina, asking Outward Bound about the safety of my son and others. There was a long silence. Finally, the counselor answered "We haven't heard from your son in a few weeks -- he took off from the group." And then I had to do the 7am newscast, and the 7:30am, and it was hours until I found out that he was all right. Good fiction resonates with our fragility.
A man walks into the conference room with a four-year old girl. Monica's face brightens, and she keeps reading, giving her tension to Georgie. And it works.
Dashing across the street -- racing light showers -- I arrive at the Oregon Convention Center just in time for readings by Monica Drake and Marc Acito at Wordstock. I'll tell Marc's story tomorrow. Monica -- who has written the brilliantly funny CLOWN GIRL, goes first, reading a chapter from a novel she is writing. I have heard an earlier carnation of that chapter because we are in Workshop together. It is fresher and funnier than I remember. Lately, we haven't heard much about Georgie, the new mom, who, in this chapter, thinks she's being called back at her work, post-pregnancy, to introduce a luminary at a conference, where the stars are actor Johnny Depp and numerous literary figures. Georgie's thrilled anticipation over whom she will be introducing, mingles with despair over the breast milk dotting her gorgeous green silk and hemp blouse.
Minutes before the performance today, I run into Monica just outside the room where some fifty people await her. She's on the cellphone, she waves to me, her eyes dart wildly from corner to corner of the convention center. She communicates with me by key words. I know what she means. Any mother would.
But it is now 11:30am, and Monica has taken the stage not knowing who has her four-year old daughter. She reads four words from her chapter, and her phone goes off. No one is on the other end. She briefly explains to the audience that she can't find her four-year old daughter who was sent off with one friend, but now might be with that friend's husband. I'm sitting in the front row, and cannot imagine the tension she must feel. Perform. Where's my daughter. Oddly, these are the feelings that Georgie has -- the new mom in her story.
Motherhood doesn't turn on and off. A few years ago, I was on the air and learned of an earthquake in Chile. One of my sons was in Chile with a group from Outward Bound. In between newscasts, I called the home office in North Carolina, asking Outward Bound about the safety of my son and others. There was a long silence. Finally, the counselor answered "We haven't heard from your son in a few weeks -- he took off from the group." And then I had to do the 7am newscast, and the 7:30am, and it was hours until I found out that he was all right. Good fiction resonates with our fragility.
A man walks into the conference room with a four-year old girl. Monica's face brightens, and she keeps reading, giving her tension to Georgie. And it works.
Labels: book review, CLOWN GIRL, Marc Acito, Monica Drake, motherhood, Oregon Convention Center, Wordstock
posted by Diana Page Jordan @ 8:40 PM
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