Uncategorized

Best Night

The best night ever. Ever!! Such a glorious introduction by wondrous Deborah Goldberger, who spearheaded this event and took such exquisite care of me. Thank you to Revel
Avila for the most luscious tequila. Thank you to the most receptive audience I’ve ever spoken to. I’ve never talked about my ‘accidental life’ in show biz (from start to finish) before. I never knew anyone would be interested. Thank you to the warm and welcoming Sisterhood at Valley Beth Shalom Synagogue and to all of you, dear friends, who came. I’m still aglow!

12400839_10208087598568795_2527404123059098566_n 12509697_10208087599008806_1003963796017292453_n 12509832_10208087598008781_8817858489017314397_n 12523099_10208087598288788_626103793766617787_n 12540712_10208087597928779_5196511720194608968_n

Uncategorized

Glorious Night

What a trip to see beautiful Sherry Goffin sitting behind her mega-talented mom, Carol King, at the Kennedy Center Honors last night. And a trip down memory lane to the 1980s, when Sherry and I worked at the same jingles company in NYC, where we competed against another unknown songwriter named Alan Menken to see whose jingle would get on the air. Ah, the power of music. Ah, the soaring melodies of fabulous Carol King. And oh, boy, did Aretha knock it out of the park or what? And how about Barack and Michelle grooving to the music? What a glorious glorious night. Thank you, all!

Uncategorized

Ring in the New Year with Slipper Camp- LOVE

1934273_902680236506644_6692709725815872826_n

On January 4, 2016, LOVE will be the subject of the first online Writing Slipper Camp of 2016. I hope you will be 1 of 10 writers who will receive 3 illustrated prompts about LOVE every OTHER morning for 20 days, along with daily writing tips and coaching suggestions. You will be writing 1,000 words (2 pages) on 1 of the 3 daily prompts and sending it to me by midnight every OTHER day.

Starts Jan 4, Ends Jan 23. Over 250 writers/non-writers have taken this structured online writing class since 2011. PM me with any questions and for cost (pravina@aol.com)

Let’s ring in 2016 with a healthy dose of LOVE! xoxo

Some more details:

WHAT IS SLIPPER CAMP?
Slipper Camp is a 20 day online writing experience. (10 days of receiving writing prompts; 2 days to write each one.) I call it Slipper Camp because you can stay home and write in your PJ’S and slippers.

Every morning at 7:00 AM the day’s prompts will arrive in your mailbox. You will be asked to write 1,000 words every other day (approx. 2 pages) on a prompt of your choice and you will send it to me by midnight of the following day.

Every day I will acknowledge that I got it. Every day I will read your writing. But I won’t comment on it yet. (Because Slipper Camp is designed to create a rhythm of writing daily or every other day, without feedback. Yet.)

When the 20 days are up, you will have written 10,000 words. No small feat.

When the 20 days are up we will talk one-on-one (over the phone) about your writing.

NOTE: SLIPPER CAMP IS ONLY OPEN TO THE FIRST 10 WRITERS WHO SIGN UP. Can’t read more than that every day!

SLIPPER CAMP: THE STORY
In 2011, I noticed that there were many online Writing Boot Camps – they all ask for writing to be done every day. I decided that pace was too hectic – ergo, Slipper Camp. Geared to our busy lives. A gentler way to get some great writing done over 20 days. I create three unique prompts per day for you to choose from – totaling 30 prompts per Slipper Camp. OR you can choose to write from none of the prompts and use this as a kickass way to get 10,000 words written over 20 days. However you do it, It WORKS.

Now, over 250 writers later, this is my 17th Slipper Camp with brand new prompts.

So let’s get writing and have some fun! Please message me for the fee. I welcome you to Slipper Camp!

Uncategorized

#NotEverythingIsLost

Gate A-4 By Naomi Shihab Nye. “This can still happen anywhere. Not everything is lost.”

Wandering around the Albuquerque Airport Terminal, after learning my flight had been delayed four hours, I heard an announcement: “If anyone in the vicinity of Gate A-4 understands any Arabic, please come to the gate immediately.” Well— one pauses these days. Gate A-4 was my own gate. I went there.

An older woman in full traditional Palestinian embroidered dress, just like my grandma wore, was crumpled to the floor, wailing. “Help,” said the flight agent. “Talk to her . What is her problem? We told her the flight was going to be late and she did this.”

I stooped to put my arm around the woman and spoke haltingly. “Shu-dow-a, shu-bid-uck, habibti? Stani schway, min fadlick, shu-bit-se-wee?” The minute she heard any words she knew, however poorly used, she stopped crying. She thought the flight had been cancelled entirely. She needed to be in El Paso for major medical treatment the next day. I said, “No, we’re fine, you’ll get there, just late, who is picking you up? Let’s call him.”

We called her son, I spoke with him in English. I told him I would stay with his mother till we got on the plane. She talked to him. Then we called her other sons just for the fun of it. Then we called my dad and he and she spoke for a while in Arabic and found out of course they had ten shared friends. Then I thought just for the heck of it why not call some Palestinian poets I know and let them chat with her? This all took up two hours.

She was laughing a lot by then. Telling about her life, patting my knee, answering questions. She had pulled a sack of homemade mamool cookies— little powdered sugar crumbly mounds stuffed with dates and nuts— from her bag and was offering them to all the women at the gate. To my amazement, not a single traveler declined one. It was like a sacrament. The traveler from Argentina, the mom from California, the lovely woman from Laredo— we were all covered with the same powdered sugar. And smiling. There is no better cookie.

Then the airline broke out free apple juice and two little girls from our flight ran around serving it and they were covered with powdered sugar too. And I noticed my new best friend— by now we were holding hands— had a potted plant poking out of her bag, some medicinal thing, with green furry leaves. Such an old country traveling tradition. Always carry a plant. Always stay rooted to somewhere.

And I looked around that gate of late and weary ones and thought, This is the world I want to live in. The shared world. Not a single person in that gate— once the crying of confusion stopped— seemed apprehensive about any other person. They took the cookies. I wanted to hug all those other women too.

This can still happen anywhere. Not everything is lost.