Tag: Memoir

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Made/Up at the Newburgh Fringe Festival!


Hey, I’m thrilled to let you know that I’ll be performing a hyper-interactive show, Made/Up, in the very first Newburgh Fringe Festival, Saturday, October 24 at 1 PM! Tickets are $10 (plus $2 facilities fee). Location: The Ritz Theater, 107 Broadway in Newburgh, N.Y.

Made/Up combines writing by me about my life with writing by YOU, the audience. Those of you interested in memoir writing might especially want to come to this!

What stories do we tell about ourselves, and what happens when we want to change those stories? In this highly interactive performance, memoirist-turned-fiction-writer Donna Minkowitz reads selections from all three of her “defiant, playful, dark and funny” books (Kirkus), and invites the audience to come up with on-the-spot micro-memoirs and micro-fiction stories about themselves.

My students (or people who have been my students) are especially invited to come.

This is the show for you if you’ve ever wanted to write about your life and wondered how to go about it. It’s ABSOLUTELY for you if you’ve ever thought about writing a fairy tale about yourself, or imagining yourself as an inanimate object. (The Port Authority Bus Terminal? A poisoned peach? A subway train? The Vietnam War? A vibrator?)

For tickets, click here:

https://secure.qgiv.com/for/newburghfringefestival/event/madeup/

(You can also get tix with $12 cash at the door.) Would love to see you there!
Donna

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Summer Memoir Workshop!

Hey friends, I’m teaching a six-week memoir workshop this summer, on Wednesday nights starting July 16. The last class date is August 20, and we meet from 7 to 9 PM ET on Zoom.

The workshop focuses on craft, especially on using emotion, the senses, lyricism, storytelling, and voice. Students will get frequent feedback in a supportive atmosphere. Class size is limited to 8. The fee is $300.

Let me know if you’re interested! You can contact me at minkowitz46@gmail.com.

Here’s my bio:

Donna Minkowitz has taught memoir writing for 27 years, at venues ranging from the 92nd Street Y and the Mt. Chocorua Writing Workshop to the JCC of Manhattan, the New York Writers Workshop, and The Kitchen. Her most recent memoir, Growing Up Golem, was a finalist for a Lambda Literary Award and the Judy Grahn Nonfiction Award, and she won a Lambda Literary Award for her first memoir, Ferocious Romance. A former columnist at The Village Voice, she has also written for Slate, The New York Times Book Review, The Nation, New York magazine, and Salon. Donna earned a BA in Literature from Yale University and received an Andrew D. White Fellowship in Comparative Literature from Cornell University. She founded the Lit Lit literary series in Beacon, and has served as a judge for four book awards. She was recently inducted into the Saints and Sinners Literary Festival LGBTQ Writers Hall of Fame.

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September 25 Memoir Writing Workshop on Zoom!

Hey, I’m teaching my eight-week memoir writing workshop again, on Wednesday nights starting September 25 on Zoom! The class meets from 7-9 PM ET, and the last class is November 13.

The workshop focuses on craft, especially on using emotion, the senses, lyricism, storytelling, and voice. Students will get frequent feedback in a supportive atmosphere. Class size is limited to 8. The fee is $325.

Let me know if you’re interested! You can contact me at minkowitz46@gmail.com.

Below is some more information about my background:

Donna Minkowitz has taught memoir writing for 24 years, at venues ranging from the 92nd Street Y and the Mt. Chocorua Writing Workshop to the JCC of Manhattan, the New York Writers Workshop, and The Kitchen. Her most recent memoir, Growing Up Golem, was a finalist for a Lambda Literary Award and the Judy Grahn Nonfiction Award, and she won a Lambda Literary Award for her first memoir, Ferocious Romance. A former columnist at The Village Voice, she has also written for Slate, The New York Times Book Review, The Nation, New York magazine, and Salon. Donna earned a BA in Literature from Yale University and received an Andrew D. White Fellowship in Comparative Literature from Cornell University. She founded the Lit Lit literary series in Beacon, and has served as a judge for four book awards.

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What’s New for January

Hey campers, HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!

We got a lot going on in January here In Donnaville:

  • On Thursday evening, January 12, I will teach A FREE MEMOIR WRITING WORKSHOP at the Howland Public Library, 313 Main Street in Beacon, 6 PM- 7:15 PM. Please register here.
  • My next 8-week memoir workshop starts Wednesday, January 25 at 7 PM. It goes for eight Wednesday nights, from 7-9 PM, and the cost is $325. See here for more info.
  • The next LIT LIT is Friday, January 20 at the Howland Cultural Center at 7 PM, 477 Main St. in Beacon. If you’re interested, come on down! Some reading slots will be available at the door, or just come and listen 😎
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Donnaville: Work in Progress

Hey there! I thought I would describe to you what I’ve been working on since late fall of 2019. It’s a new book called DONNAVILLE, and it takes place in a city that is, yes… the city of my mind. You know how the poet Delmore Schwartz once wrote, “The mind is a city like London/Smoky and populous: it is a capital/Like Rome, ruined and eternal,/Marked by the monuments which no one/Now remembers”? This book imagines that city, er, my city — the little citystate of my mind.

You know how Sylvia Plath once wrote, “Is there no way out of the mind?” (Look it up, it’s a terrifying poem.) Well, sometimes Donnaville feels a little bit like that, because its central location is a prison, and one of the two main characters is the Jailer, who is also a janitor and torturer.

You know how Denise Levertov once wrote to a lover, “You invaded my country by accident/not knowing you had crossed the border./Vines that grew there touched you”? And then she tells him, “I invaded your country with all my/’passionate intensity,’/pontoons and parachutes of my blindness./But living now in the suburbs of the capital/incognito, my will to take the heart/ of the city has dwindled. I love its unsuspecting life,/its adolescents who come to tell me their dreams in the dusty park…”? Well, Donnaville is also about that, what happens when people approach the “countries” of other people’s minds, and try to have relationships with them. When different countries (or citystates), in other words, try to get together.

So, I have finished preliminary edits. It will be a long while before this book is out, but if you want to read some short excerpts, you can read them here, here, here , here, and here. Hope you like! :-)

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Vote For Me!


Edited on April 20: oh my God, I’m a finalist! Truly did not expect that. If you want to, please vote for me to advance further. For this readers’ choice award, people actually get to vote once a day!

Okay… For the very first time in my life, I get to say, “Vote for me!”

I’m thrilled to have been nominated for Chronogram Magazine’s annual award for the best author in the Hudson Valley :-) This is a readers’ choice award, and finalists and the winner are determined by whoever gets the highest number of votes. It’s the absolute truth to say I would be honored if I got yours.

Just to refresh you, I am the author of two award-winning and critically acclaimed memoirs. I am the founder of the Lit Lit series in the Hudson Valley, the winner of a GLAAD Media Award and Radcliffe College’s Exceptional Merit Media Award, and a writer who has gone undercover to write about white nationalists and the Christian right.

Everyone is allowed to vote, whether you live in the Hudson Valley or not.

You can vote for me at this link. (Please just scroll down slightly from the Artist category where this page begins, to the Author category where I am.) Many thanks, and if I win, I’m giving out pie!

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Therapists (Jailbreak Part 4)

This is excerpt number four of my memoir in progress, tentatively titled Jailbreak. “The jailer” and “the harlequin” are both parts of me. You can find out more about the jailer here and the harlequin here. In the quatrain that opens this piece, the harlequin is speaking.

I have a wave of power inside me
I have a wave of fruit
I think I can be 300 feet tall
And I’m wearing a kickass suit

This confidence inside me my old therapist thought was a liability, my craziness talking. A lying dodge. On the whole she seemed to prefer the jailer. She and the jailer would have long conversations together. She never addressed the harlequin because she did not like him.

Therapy session between me and Robin:

Me: So.

I always start with So because Robin makes me start the show each time. Neither of us will ever say anything, the whole time, unless I begin. I hate the responsibility, and the bleakness between us, this room in which we seem locked together for 45 minutes at a time, a dungeon I pay to enter. Robin looking at me dryly as if I still haven’t learned anything in the 20 years I’ve been coming to see her.
Sometimes she actually says it: How long have you been coming to me, Donna?
Me (variously): Five years. Nine years. 19 years. 20 years.
Robin: Then why are you still doing X bad thing?

***
Maybe the harlequin didn’t like Robin, either.
Me/Harlequin: “I sometimes wish our therapy were more playful.”
Robin: “Therapy isn’t play. It’s hard work!

***
“I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to do.”
Robin: “Yes you do!”

***
The harlequin ignores Robin, bides his time. Feeds me under the snow, through my root system, feeds me like birds at his many feeders, shines dazzling sunlight on me even in winter.
***

I’m sick of you wasting away without me, my love. I’m sick of you locking yourself in the dungeon to work. I miss you.
***

I will give you custard apples
and I will give you tajines warm with cinnamon
I will give you walks in the mountains
and I will give you a dog

Today I am not happy with everything E does and it makes me fear that my love is a farce. Would someone who really felt a lot of love be annoyed by her partner nervously going on about Trump when we’re having dinner at a new friend’s house? Be afraid that her partner sounded awkward and unconfident? Look at her partner’s face and think that she looked tired?

Why does E stir up the judge inside me? The judge rants, in my head, about E’s nervous boring chitchat. About something rude she said to Fred.

The jailer wants to break the house to bits, kick down the beautiful floorboards and mix them with dog shit, with peed-on papers from the doghouse, smash in the windows, sledgehammer the mirrors, destroy the furniture we built together and the art we put on the walls and shatter glass until it is so dangerous in here I have to leave.

***
The jailer resents E. He’ll be sitting there hammering more sheets of lead onto the cells and her voice will waft over and he will want to take his hammer to E’s lack of confidence and her belief she’s ugly. Put E in the deepest, dirtiest, most toxic dungeon cell, the saddest, scariest one and he will take his hammer to her and wipe out, wipe out all the awkwardness and the self-hate.
***
Did Bob invite us to dinner not because he likes us but just to get information on the outré sexual subculture that we have been involved in and he has not? Does he really enjoy our company? Does he think we’re cute? Does he think of us as boring?

This reminds me of the time I was eight and I thought my best friend Julie only liked me because I bought her bubblegum. She didn’t have any money, and I had some which I wanted to share. I liked her, and we hung out all the time, but I was afraid she only liked me for my money.

Now I realize Julie liked me for myself. But before the age of 12, I was certain that none of my friends liked me for me. I was sure they were with me only to get something from me. I often told them so and their feelings were hurt.

 

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Divine Mother/Siren Song

The divine mother finally
comes to me
finally speaks

[it has taken me 56 years
to rip the wax out of my ears

I stuffed them with so long ago
I was terrified of hearing her lush
candy tones]:

I want to rub your shoulders
Oh lay down lay your head down on my breast
I want to feed you
I have the food right here
a tunafish sandwich and
a meatball one

and I have roses for you so you will always know
how wonderful you are

my delight, my little cookie
my bright animal
my brave girl
full of fire

and I will spread around you all that you might ever have needed
all you might ever love

Darling

[the smell of perfume around her. Silk scarf
the color of saffron, I can almost smell the spice
coming from her hands and her words
as she speaks
she is intoxicating]
I will never leave you

[please.
I cannot take
your betrayal.]

The mother’s nipple is bright red and her breasts are apple blossoms. The nipple in my mouth is sucky sucky delight I do not need anything more.

This is from my new work in progress, a memoir that is mostly in prose. The book is tentatively titled Jailbreak. You can find additional excerpts here, here, and here.