SIX Weeks of The Artist’s Way

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Whether you’re new to The Artist’s Way  by Julia Cameron, or have a shelf filled with years of Morning Pages, our class will reconnect you to your muse. You may be working on a novel, short stories, journaling, or simply wanting to experience enhanced creativity in your life–whatever your goal is, using the tools in Julia Cameron’s bestselling book will help you explore how to engage and invigorate your writing verve.

During our six weeks you will explore the lessons of The Artist’s Way, harnessing your inner creativity, addressing negative beliefs, forming creative allies, making artistic u-turns, blasting through blocks, making writing dates with a muse, letting your imagination play, and creating a contract that honors the writer’s life. We will have two optional writing dates at local coffee shops outside of campus. Prior knowledge of The Writer’s Way not necessary, but you can purchase Cameron’s best selling book here.

Click here to sign up The Artists Way

NEW!  The Artist’s Way for Writers  
Item: C524 Mindy Halleck
6:30 PM – 8:30 PM Location: Snoqualmie Hall   309
Sessions: 6 W 20000 68th Ave W Lynnwood, WA 98036
4/25/2018 – 5/30/2018 Fee: $149.00
If you’re a writer, you should know The Artist’s Way.


Enter Writing Contests

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Remember, contests are a good way to get feedback on your writing, and hey, if you win it’s a great feather in your writing cap. Here’s a local writer’s contest that’s taking submissions right now — I should mention that I won this contest once.  

It’s always fun to win a contest and or receive an award.

Sixth Annual EPIC Writing Contest,
Contest entries are now being accepted in prose and poetry.
Prose includes any type of fiction or nonfiction.
Entries will be accepted until
Monday, April 9, 2018.
Please pursue our invitation and take the challenge.
To review the details and procedures for submitting,
go to


You can read my winning entry The Frenchman, here if you like, and other examples of past winners.   GOOD LUCK!

Fight or Flight – Life Lessons I’ve Learned  

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We all land on one side or the other of the ‘flight or fight’ issue. And anyone who knows me will likely say I’m a fighter. And anyone who knows my mom will tell you she’s a flighter. It’s been a long standing joke in the family, ‘Mom’s on walk about’ always meant she may be gone for a day or two, or a year. We, my three brothers and me, grew up knowing she may disappear at any point, so we took care of ourselves. I think I became that fighter because someone had to stay and take care of things.

When she was 80 years old I had to take her driving privileges (keys and car) away before she crashed THROUGH another Arby’s drive through window, or hurt herself or someone else.  Mom has always been active and on the go, so ending that part of her life was difficult and sad, no more garage sales, no more Value Village and no more senior breakfast specials at Denny’s or their dueling rivalry, Shari’s Restaurant, and no more ‘flight’ capabilities. I wasn’t sure how she’d handle not being able to escape.

Soon it was evident that living on her own was no longer a healthy situation: despite her youthful face and attitude, mom has never liked vegetables or exercise and so was in poor health for a modern day 80 year old. We soon found a retirement home in her area. My brothers and I hoped that the retirement center would provide ample activities to keep her socially, mentally and physically active, like in high school. After all, she always said her happiest time in life was high school: of course, as her child that’s gratifying, ‘thanks mom’.

And though mom spoke of the other residents as if they were old people and she couldn’t figure out why she had to live with them, at first it seemed like it might work out. At least the socially active part kept her fully engaged. And by fully engaged I mean that she and her new cohorts in the ‘home’ became like any high school’s gaggle of mean girls. And in her early 1950s high school, my mom – a beauty queen, entertainer and one of the prettiest girls in school, sadly, was a leader of one of those toxic packs of mean girls. So mom finally returned to her youth, her happiest time; gossiping, mocking and making fun of some of the other (80 plus year old) girls. This regression was unexpected (though not surprising) and sorely disappointing – proof that even old leopards do not change their spots. Obviously, who we truly are is revealed in stressful situations, and apparently times of boredom.

I soon realized that much of their gossipy activity was due (not entirely) but largely to monotony. The home she was in did not manage a lively activities calendar, which I have since learned is critical to a retirement community.  This means that there was very little outside stimulation or visiting entertainment, so mom and her cronies created their own. And left to their own diminishing devices meant mom FREQUENTLY asked me to come in and read from my novel or do a talk on travel to Europe with my ‘fancy gadgets’ – her words to describe my laptop and Power Point. She’s always been proud of me, so, I did do presentations, talks and even sat in on a few of their ‘happy hours’ with them.

Mom called their happy hours the ‘dark times’ due to the substandard music and or other entertainment during their oft-failed attempt at one scanty hour of happiness per week.

I always brought a good bottle of wine and we smuggled it in so we could have a decent glass of wine instead of the boxed mystery elixir they served. Mom often invited her closest friend to sit with us, a one-time (and lifelong) airline stewardess who still dressed the part; small silk neck scarves from Paris tied in a perfect knot at the side of her neck, trinket jewelry from Asia, and sweaters and vests made in Ireland, red lipstick and short bleached blonde hair. She was 90, never married, always a beauty who traveled the world and who somehow landed in this home with no one to visit her and restricted to traveling with her walker only as far as the front lobby. The only thing that truly bonded these two women was their fading beauty, their tendency to be mean girls and their STRONG desire to escape the place, the age, and the circumstances where they now found themselves – like Alice after falling through the rabbit hole – shocked and surprised at their surroundings, wondering, how did this happen?

I’m confident that if either of them could still drive we would have had a Thelma and Louise state of affairs.

Things were copasetic for about three years, and during those years my brother who lives in Portland handled a great deal of what it takes to manage her healthcare and weekly shopping trips, and I handled the rest from here in Seattle. It took years and a great deal of paperwork and financing, but we finally had her set up where she was safe, had a nice place to live, meals, meds, personal care aids, and lots of caretakers on duty 24-7.

Still, mom constantly complained about everything in the home, begging me to come down (from Seattle to Portland) to entertain her friends, and constantly tried to find ways to bust out of the place, the ‘big house’ she called it. One year, after we had argued on the phone about her moving out on her own; which would have meant no one to cook for her, check her insulin, give her the correct amount of her meds, and no alert button to press if she fell, I agreed to drive down and take her to a local Halloween party at a neighboring retirement home. When I arrived, she came down to the lobby of her building dressed as a prison inmate (black stipes, hat and a chain around her ankle). Ever the actress, and always one to make a theatrical point.

That day I realized she never has been and never NEVER will be happy, so I’d settle for keeping her safe. My mother makes most people feel helpless because she is never happy or satisfied. Trying to please someone who will never be pleased is exhausting, and helplessness is soul sucking, so I stopped trying to make her happy. But safe, safe I can live with.

Anyway, during the last two years her stewardess friend grew weaker and weaker, no longer able to even travel from her room down the long hallway to mom’s apartment. Then two of mom’s other friends died, which is not uncommon in a home for the elderly, but remember, in mom’s mind she was still an imprisoned teenager trying to find a way out.

But then the stewardess died. Mom went silent for several weeks. Barely any conversation at all, not even complaining, which had me worried. But I should have known better, after all, mom’s a runner.

All of a sudden, I got a call from my two brothers who live in a small town on the Oregon Coast. Mom had somehow convinced them she should live in their house and that she could take care of herself, it would be no big deal. She swore them to secrecy, and covertly made all the arrangements to break out of the big house. Those two unsuspecting (ever culpable) brothers had never been involved in all the doctors’ appointments, and overall healthcare mom required, like my other brother and I had been. So now they have their hands full and because they went along with her secrecy, I wish them well.  I can’t help them, but I wish them well.

As I said, mom’s a runner. Not a fighter, but a flighter. The death of her comrade in mean girl affairs stunned mom’s teenage sensibilities to her core, disturbed her naïve sense of mortality. When her friend took her final journey from this world, mom absolutely could not comprehend what was happening – Alice lost in (what’s the opposite of Wonderland?) anyway, mom’s flight reaction has always told her to run. And run she has. But this time there’s no running from old age. You have to befriend aging, I always told her, eat your vegetables, take your walks, work out, laugh, enjoy life, don’t resent it, and treat others as you would like to be treated, and so on. And though this is not and never will be mom’s credo, it is mine, and for that I owe her a debt of gratitude for always showing me what not to do. She’s a great life guide.

As a writer I always observe others, trying to figure out why they do, say or act the way they do. It’s all material, right? I’ve formed most of my theories on life based on how to not be like my mom in most ways. Don’t get me wrong, she is loving to her children, and as far as I know has never killed anyone (I feel the strongest urge to type ‘yet’ right here, but I won’t.)

Anyway, additionally I learned three life lessons from mom’s retirement home experience; people do not change their spots as they age, and people who live in those homes can get bored, and that I can do something to help them – because when you help someone else it assuages your (eternal) sense of helplessness.

I can’t do anything for my mom who is already calling my other brother begging him to rescue her, but I can be a little comfort to others. I volunteer at local retirement homes to read to residents, talk about my book, or the history that went into the back story, or talk about being a cancer survivor, or my travels, or even gardening, whatever else I can do to alleviate their boredom for one afternoon.

When I did a presentation about my novel last week at a local retirement home there were three Korean War veterans in the audience, which is rare. One man patted my hand as I left and thanked me for writing about the Korean War. He had tears in his eyes. He said that while listening to me talk about my protagonist (a Korean War Hero) he felt like a young man again, a soldier, he recalled the beauty of the Korean countryside. He said that part of him had been asleep for a good long time, and said thank you for waking him up and reminding him of things long forgotten. He warmed my heart and confirmed for me that just visiting with people can make all the difference on the world.

There’s nothing I can do to change my mom’s experience with aging, but I can add a little happiness to the dark times others may be experiencing on their final journeys. That much I know for sure.


What a Great Honor…

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Me, as photographed by Mary Wastman Photography

Last month I had the honor of being selected as the featured author and keynote speaker for the Mukilteo Schools Foundation fundraiser breakfast at Boeing’s Museum of Flight.

But before I get to that amazing morning, the night before the breakfast the foundation arranged for a local restaurant, The Red Cork Bistro to close for a private Author hosting party with me, the donors and other local school supporters. The Red Cork was gracious, and provided a lovely place for a private event with great food, wine, ambiance and lively conversations. What a way to kick off the week. Thank you Mukilteo Chamber of Commerce, especially Emma Leedy who initially suggested me to the board.

The next morning was the main event at the museum. Talented student chefs made a delicious breakfast akin to what you would be served at any 5 star restaurant, and the school jazz band harkened in the event, filling the (closed to the public) museum with enticing smells and invigorating music.


Senator Liias

When Senator Marco Liias introduced “Mukilteo’s literary treasure” I actually looked around the room wondering what other author would be speaking. Then my friend Judy Gratton tapped my leg and said, “That’s you.” So I got up and went on stage. It was a surreal moment. NEVER in all the public speaking I have done has there been a plane hanging over my head and a fuselage to the right of the stage. I couldn’t help myself, the first words out of my mouth were not from my planned speech, but instead, “WOW! What a venue. Is that a fuselage?”  Of course I said that because ‘fuselage’ was the only word I knew for an immense airplane part.

Judy Gratton and me

Anyway, I quickly pulled myself together and spoke to the crowd about the importance, no, the life- saving magic that books are to children. In my troubled childhood of which I spoke about my soldier father’s PTSD and ultimate alcoholism, books gave me refuge, inspired me to be brave, be kind, be curious.

Me on HUGE stage


Here’s a short excerpt from my speech titled, Literacy is a Superpower;

“Ernest Hemingway said, ‘There is no friend as loyal as a book’. And that certainly has always been true for me. I can honestly say Books saved my life. Well, books and a neighbor, a retired school teacher, Mrs. Gordon, who recognized a traumatized child when she saw one. I was about 6 years old when she invited me into her kitchen to learn to read. I recall on the pages of those books was another world, a world of raccoon mothers who fiercely protected their young and even carried their babies in their mouths on incredible adventures, and dogs and cats who loved one another despite their obvious differences.

In every story there was peril, but Mrs. Gordon assured me everything would soon be alright if I could hang in there and remember that soon I would turn the page.

And when she said, maybe you’ll grow up to write a book someday, she altered the potential trajectory of my life. Because she knew then that I may have challenges, obstacles to overcome, and that I would need a quest, hope, something to aspire to, as do all protagonist on all long journeys, and she knew that for a child, literacy was a superpower. And it was.

Those books she gifted me became my companions, my loyal friends, as Hemmingway said.

Because to read, at any age opens a window into other worlds previously unimagined….”

Anyway, I went on about how books saved me from a troubled childhood and how literacy truly is a superpower. I got into why I wrote Return To Sender and how my dad’s PTSD inspired my protagonist, Theo Riley and his Korean War nightmares after he returned home. And how books and writing guided me through 3 tours in cancerland. “Just keep turning the page, everything will be alright.” Mrs. Gordon said. We always return to our childhood lessons, and that one has saved me time and time again.

But I circled back around to the literacy issue which is the Mukilteo Schools Organization’s mission, and I ended on this note,

“In today’s world what is more important than planting those seeds in the hearts and minds of our children? Valuing their education, their welfare and so importantly their imaginations is vital to our humanity in this otherwise chaotic and often uncaring world that can be turned topsy-turvy by a simple 140 character tweet. Well, now 280….

The Mukilteo Schools foundation literacy mission and getting books into the hands of children is one I believe in wholeheartedly. That retired teacher who put a book in my hands showed me there was a big world out there, she planted a seed of hope inside me and taught me to turn the page, everything would be alright. Books guided my future, literacy was the superpower that saved my life.”

It was a wonderful event. I hope I rose to the occasion. During the book signing SO many people came up to me and shared their stories of being the child of a soldier who struggled with PTSD or other war time traumas brought home to the families. I honor the private things they shared with me.

My delightful breakfast companions, Mr. and Mrs. Klein

Teachers, and people like Mr. and Mrs. Klein who support literacy organizations earn a special place in heaven in this once a little girl, now grown reader and writer’s mind. In a time of shrinking school budgets, cutting arts programs and an overall disrespect for literacy in America, these organizations and the people who support them are vital to our survival as a literate, competitive country. I was so happy and honored to take part in this event.


Author event at Red Cork Bistro
Red Cork Bistro
Red Cork Bistro

ALL photographs provided by Mary Wastman photography 


Why I haven’t blogged in awhile…

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I haven’t blogged in awhile because in times of chaos (personal and political) I tend to withdraw and think. I also have needed time to reexamine my words, what I say, and most importantly what I write about. Everything matters now in ways it didn’t seem to before…so what can I say that will add to the conversation rather than detract???

The #METOO movement has brought up some painful memories, unresolved issues and pain that frankly, I thought I’d dealt with but haven’t. I will write about that in a later post, when I understand what about that matters now, and how to deal with past injustices, past wounds, now, and why adding my voice may (or may not) matter in this long overdue, sweeping and universal conversation.

Today I wanted to share this bit of wisdom from Lady Gaga (that’s right, lady Gaga), because right now it’s exactly how I feel, what I think and no one has (yet) said it better and with more clarity than she. PLEASE listen for the next 2 minutes and begin to think how you can make these changes in your life, and manifest a better world one relationship, one thought, and one action at a time. We need to unify in our collective humanity, and stop hurting one another in harmful social media conversations, in hurtful words over thanksgiving dinner, or in inappropriate sexual behavior in the home or workplace, and just start helping each other. Please watch HERE. or watch below.