Jacqueline Haskins
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Thank you, Write On the River

5/21/2014

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A huge shout-out: thank you, A Book For All Seasons (Leavenworth’s indie bookstore), and thank you, Write on the River organizers, for letting me take part in this year’s conference.

When the balsamroot sunflowers are at their peak, and mothers everywhere are getting breakfast in bed, then we know Write On the River is ‘write’ around the corner.

The 2014 line-up of presenters was outstanding, and there were so many I was sorry to miss, including Arlene Kim (What Have You Done to Our Ears To Make Us Hear Echos?) and Peter Stark (Astoria).

On the plus side, all three presenters I did catch were brilliant: Scott Driscoll (Better You Go Home), Craig English (Anvil of Navarre), and Wendy Call.

Many of you may already know Wendy Call’s Telling True Stories, pearls of wisdom from over 50 outstanding nonfiction writers. I had seen it on the bookshelf, and always passed over it, thinking, ah, yawn, there’s an “ought to.” You know, like doing sit-ups in the morning. But pas du tout, my friends, not at all! Now that I’ve actually opened it, I discover: it’s like that perfect shot of java. Zingy and to the point. A six-minute sip will leave you energized, focused, and convinced that writing actually matters.

I’m also really looking forward to diving into No Word For Welcome, Wendy’s book about small Mexican villages taking on global economic forces. Wendy says, “I have fashioned my map of the Isthmus of Tehuantepec in the form of a book.” And she quotes Andrés Henestrosa: “It’s small, it fits in the palm of the hand, it doesn’t weigh heavily on the shoulders, yet it overflows the heart.” 

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    The Big Why

    I love where I live. Literally on Mountain Home Road.

    When we arrived we were just down the road from “the Big Y,” a proud, self-named, highway interchange, and the home of the Big Y Café.

    Our first improvement to our raw acreage was a square of  cardboard tacked to a Ponderosa. It read: “The Big Why Not.”

    That sign long ago decomposed in the rain. Re-constructed, the modern interchange looks nothing like a 'Y.'  In the not too distant future, perhaps, no one will have any idea how the Big Y Café got its name.

    A writer is simply this: someone trying hard to notice, to remember, and then to get out of the story’s way. I retain thankful awareness of how close I am to The Big Why. Which is almost all the blessing any one needs. And also a sweet reminder to ponder the Big Why Not.

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