Learning To Add Zing

Articles

Holly Winter
Living The Life Of Holly

Learning To Add Zing
Apr. 19, 2003

“Dig deeply, write honestly.” She said, leaning forward to intensify her words. We scribbled furiously, terrified to miss even a moment of her brilliance.

“How many of you get stuck on a black page?” She asked, surveying the raised hands with a knowing nod.

“How many have a loud critic?”

I found this seminar advertised in the newspaper. I had never heard of the Denver Woman’s Press Club, and Catherine Bauer was new author for me. But. She was teaching a class on essay writing and although my good friend, Ralph considers my columns to be the perfect naptime reading, they do fall under the guise of essay writing. So. I was willing, able, and…yes, ever curious.

I mean. I wondered what the other attendees would be like. Would this seminar be a room filled with avid, successful essay writers? And. What would these essay writers look like? Would they be librarian types? You know. Long tight skirts, frilly tops, round glasses on the end of pointed noses? Would we all speak in hushed voices and carry stacks of our favorite books around? Um. No.

Ok. I know. I am far from that picture in my tight jeans, sleeveless black turtleneck shirt and jean jacket. But. Our instructor, Catherine. Now. She is so far removed from that picture that you will completely understand why I have paid a small fortune to come and learn how to add zing to my writing. Oh. Sure. She is also dressed in denim, but our resemblance ends there. The collar and cuffs of her fine designer clothing are furry and have animal prints stamped into them. There are animal patches sewn onto her clothes, and long beads dangling off the bottom of her skirt that make swishing, musical noises. Now. Those beads do fall off, from time to time, so she can spin around, and we can find remnants from where she has been, in case we have forgotten.

I mean. Me. You can well imagine someone like me sitting under an umbrella sipping iced tea at a local Starbucks. Catherine Bauer? No way. She is type you would find just returned from a wild Kenyan safari, where she hung from the side of the bus to get pictures of an endangered species of giraffes, sans telephoto lens. (And. If I have ever tended toward exaggeration in the past, please understand, this is not one of those times.)

And. By the way, when asked where she got her clothes, Catherine leaned to one side, took a deep breath, shook her head, sighed, dropped her shoulders, and said. “I would like to tell you that I bought this at Sacks or Neiman’s or some place like that. But. The truth is...” She took a deep breath again. “I bought this at the Evergreen Drug Store.”

We laughed. She continued.

“I know. I wish they didn’t have such great clothes there. But that’s where I got it. Evergreen Drug Store. There. I said it again.”

Everyone had a different reason for attending the seminar. One woman confided, “I want to be Dave Barry. I want to be funny when I write.” The room got very quiet. We felt for her. “I did it twice. I just want to be able to do it again. How does he do it every week?”

Another woman spoke up. “I am a technical writer. I have to tell it like it is, all day long. Nobody cares about my opinion. I want to write down MY ideas and MAKE people read them.” The room erupted into laughter. The Dave Barry woman was at a complete loss, poor dear.

We had to do a ten minute writing assignment in class. We had to write about a teacher from our life. I decided to write about the stairs up to my apartment and how they have taught me about planning ahead at the grocery store so that now I only buy necessities, like dried beans and dried rice. I agreed to read my story aloud to the group and was overwhelmed when the group didn’t fall asleep, as Ralph would have done. They actually laughed, out loud.

On my way home, I called Ralph and left him a message insisting that others laughed at my work, and that for now I was requiring that he nap before he was allowed to read my writing.

I got home and lounged on the couch as I started to read Catherine’s book of essays, One Day On Earth, A Third Eye View.

Darlin-man kept e-mailing about our date. He figured that I was writing away at the computer. Um. No. He finally called.

“Hi.” I answered.

“Am I going to see you tonight?”

“Yes.”

“Are you ok?”

“Reading”

“Six thirty?”

“Yes.”

Ok. So. I wasn’t ready. It wasn’t that big a deal, was it? We curled up and I read him my favorite essay, “Three Grandmothers.”

“Darlin-man, do you think that I will ever write like that?”

“No.” He said, flipping through the book. “You don’t have any children. Go get ready.”

“No. You just want me to get ready so you can read.” I said, jealous that he got to hold the book.

“I am just going to look through the book for a minute or two while you change your clothes into something a little less sweat pants-y.” He said, settling on something.

“Which one are you reading?” I asked, zipping up a short skirt. “Which one?” I cuddled up next to him. He was reading “I Married An Engineer.”

We read it together.

“I’m glad you’re not like that.” I said.

“You just wasted eight minutes of our date dawdling over a story when we could have been spending it eating dinner?” He asked.

“You know.” I said, taking the book away from him. “That is enough Bauer for you for one night.”

(One Day On Earth A Third Eye View. Catherine Lazers Bauer. ISBN# 0-9620507-8-4)

About the author: Holly Winter is a teacher and a writer and a flight attendant living in Denver, Colorado, USA. She can be reached at her website or email: Holly@livingthelifeofholly.com

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