Lyric Fiction by Mona Stewart-Gettmann

"Snow White" has always been a rich story, thick with beauty and dread. In her new tale about the huntsman who was sent to murder Snow White, Mona Stewart-Gettmann creates a chilling and moving portrait of this unnamed character.

About the artist/author:  Mona Stewart-Gettmann cannot remember NOT drawing. She took art classes in college, and then writing came later. From reading lots of children's picture books, she's seen first-hand which ones children like.

A New Editing Class!

I'm excited to offer a new class for women this spring.

Here are the details:

Creative  * Editing * for Women

Explore ways of shaping your creative work into polished pieces through craft talks and honest, supportive feedback.

4 Tuesdays – April 9 & 23, May 14 & 28

10 a.m. – noon

All experience levels & genres welcome

Meets at Taborspace – 5541 SE Belmont

Over the course of 4 meetings, each participant will have the chance to

~ share at least 2 separate pieces with the group

    up to 5 pages of prose (double-spaced) or poetry (single-spaced)

~ receive written instructor feedback on one piece (up to 5 pages)

$80 for 4 meetings

Limit 8 participants

Preregistration required

Creative Memoir by Jan Rhinehart

'L'Aurore' walking through the peach roses in Square Georges Cain, Paris                               

Enough of winter! In this exquisite, sensitive piece, Jan Rhinehart brings us a whiff of spring.

Rose
by Jan Rhinehart

Somedays I reach out to embrace the day just to be pricked by a thorn. The prick is firm enough to cause bleeding, more internal than external. The external can easily be taken care of:

wash

dry

bandaid.

The internal continues to drip until enthusiasm for the day has been lost. Depression creeps in.

Can I afford to give up a day to doldrums? Can I risk sitting and doing nothing?

I take a deep breath, step out on my patio, tidy a few things, deadhead some plants and then my eyes focus on the rose bush.

There a most beautiful blossom, faint in scent but lovely in form. A smile crosses my face. Calmness surrounds me. Appreciating at that moment, that the day that started as a thorn will end as a blossom--a rose.

About the author: Twenty-five years ago Jan Rinehart was accepted to participate in the Oregon Writing Project. She carried those skills to her classroom and taught beginning writing skills to many elementary students. Since then she has 'flirted' with personal writing but is now ready to 'commit' to daily writing. She has endless praise for the Women's Writing Group for the success she is feeling with writing today.

Paper Heart

I've always loved Valentine's Day.

When I was in first grade, I loved singing "Mail Myself to You" in music class. I loved making a mailbox out of a shoebox. I loved coming home with a list of my classmate's names and cutting out a red paper heart for everyone.

Everyone.

A paper heart for my best friend with whom I chewed gum in bed.

For the girl who wore the cool go-go boots I so longed to wear.

For the girl who lived in a fancy house with stairs.

For the boy I chased in circles around the playground. I'm not sure what I would have done with him if I'd caught him, but it felt so good to run in my white blouse and navy blue skirt, my knee socks and my tennis shoes.

I made valentines for all of the kids in the class. For Mike and Michelle and Ashley. For Chris and Connie. All of them.

Now here's one for you.

A New/Old Poem

I wrote this poem almost twenty years ago, but it still feels true today. My heartfelt thanks to the editors of Sum Literary Journal for publishing "Song for a Young Daughter" in their "Dyad" issue.

The Hills Are Alive

When I was a kid, I used to pretend I was Julie Andrews in The Sound of Music. Sadly, I'm no great shakes as a singer, though. I don't need a humiliating audition story ('Have you considered taking up knitting, dear?') to confirm this. I've got ears, and I'm smart (and kind) enough not to subject others to a sound that's comparable to a freight train trying to back up over curved and rusted tracks.

When I'm alone, it's a different story. If you can't pretend to be Julie (or Ella Fitzgerald or China Forbes or Patti Smith) when no one's around, then what's the point?

When I was about 11, my family lived in a house with wall-to-wall dark green carpeting (think of a forest floor) and a vast living room that was home to a coffin-sized stereo cabinet. In the cabinet was a turntable as well as my parents' record collection. My favorite albums were the original cast recordings. I loved twirling around the room to My Fair Lady's "I Could Have Danced All Night" or tapping and two-stepping past our TV and our couch to Oklahoma's "Everything's Up to Date in Kansas City." Of course the best -- the absolute best -- was Julie Andrews, as Fraulein Maria, singing "I Have Confidence" in The Sound of Music.

Listening to that song, I could picture the whole scene just as Julie played it in the movie. She was dressed in drooping hand-me-downs and wore a wide-brimmed hat (roughly the same circumference as the largest of Saturn's rings) atop a truly regrettable haircut. And yet Julie, as the world's most famous aspiring sister, stood up straight and swung her carpet bag (moth-eaten probably) all around Salzburg as if she didn't have a care.

Oh, how I could feel those words -- I have con-fee-dence -- as I belted them out along with Julie. Of course in reality I had no con-fee-dence back then (I'm talking about sixth grade here). But the more I sang that glorious line, the more I could feel it in my bones. With the volume on the stereo turned up, I couldn't actually hear my own dissonant notes, but I could feel the reverberations of the words and music in my lungs and ribs and skull, and for a few powerful moments I was ready, like Julie, to take on any challenge.

So yes, I'm a fan of Julie's...so much so that one of my latest publications is a prose poem whose title bears her name. Unfortunately, Julie doesn't fair well in this piece, as it was inspired by a nightmare I once had in which she was held captive by some nasty (and ravenous) wolves.

Many thanks to the editors of Three Drops from the Cauldron for including "Julie" in their Midwinter Special Issue, which you can find by clicking here. And here's to finding creative inspiration and confidence in the most unlikely places this year.

Some Recent Publications

Dear friends,

Here are some of my most recent publications, with links to poetry and prose, fiction and non. From a feminist anthem to a story about swaying elephants in an attic, it was pure joy crafting these pieces!

VoiceCatcher Journal,  "Once I Was" and "Fourth Wave"

Mobius: The Journal of Social Change, "The Garden of the Universe"

Inquietudes Literary Journal, "No Place Like It"

The Poetry Box, "Columbine"

Sonic Boom, "A Letter, with Elephants," click here to read the journal.

Gold Man Review, "A True Gift," a print journal that you can purchase here.