Seeing an author whose books I enjoy is a rare thrill for me, so I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to hear Elizabeth Berg speak. In case you don’t know, Elizabeth Berg is a New York Times best-selling author, writes contemporarily fiction and bought her dad a red Cadillac after her book Open House was featured on Oprah’s Book Club. What I like about her books is that they’re about marriage, friendship and complicated family relationships, which is also the style of books I write. According to my agent, it’s a small niche in the women’s fiction market, which is dominated by romances. Here are the words of wisdom this successful author shared at the Midwest Writer’s Workshop. 


Your day job can make you a better writer. Elizabeth Berg’s experience as a nurse required her to give patients “unconditional positive regard” and notice everything from a twitching knee to their facial expression. Since she worked in critical care, she learned that what matters in life isn’t the big things, but the little details. It’s the yellow coffee cup you drink your morning coffee from or the dog curled up at the end of your bed that matter to people. This is also what creates a beautiful scene and a memorable story. 


Berg offered insights into her own writing process, but emphasized that we should honor what works for us. She doesn’t plot her story out ahead of time because she likes to be surprised. “I don’t want to know where it's going. I want to dream it into being.” Preferring to work in the morning, she writes one day without censoring herself. The next day she goes back and edits it. She encourages writers to “Go shopping for ideas inside yourself” rather than trying to imitate others.  


“The best thing to do to be a good writer is to be a good reader,” Berg said. She likes to read Alice Munro, E.B. White, the graphic artist Lynda Barry as well as non-fiction. Reading a variety of genres is good for writers. Her advice for writer’s groups is “Be honest but kind.”  


When asked how she juggles several book ideas, she said she can’t work on two novels at the same time. “It’s like you’re married to it.” So, she suggested treating your story ideas like you would children: tell them you love them and you’ll get to them later, but right now Mom has to do this. People who are bombarded by several ideas should write each of them down and put them in a drawer. 


Berg concluded with a few positive words about publishing. Despite the changing industry, she said, “Editors are still looking for good writers. They need you as much as you need them.” Write the story you want to write first, she advised, and worry about marketing later. “All of you are engaged in a noble business. . . . Good luck! I hope you love what you’re doing.” 



If you enjoy reading happy endings with a twist, try A SISTER’S PROMISE, WHAT HAPPINESS LOOKS LIKE or ON THE VERGE. Look for A WEEKEND GETAWAY by Karen Lenfestey, coming soon to Amazon. 
Thanks to my friend and fellow author, Cathy Shouse, for the picture in this blog.

“Why didn’t you give them money?” my seven-year-old asked. When the cashier at a fast food restaurant had requested a donation to their charity of choice, I’d said no. That’s what I usually said when strangers caught me off-guard asking for money. Suddenly, my child’s kind, blue eyes made me feel guilty.

I tried to explain: “There are lots of good causes and we can’t afford to give to all of them. I believe you should think about which ones you want to support, then donate to them.”  

For a long time, I simply didn’t have the discretionary income to share with others. Now that I’m more comfortable, I still have a list of things for which I need to save money: my child’s college tuition, a house with a backyard and retirement. On the other hand, I want to teach my daughter to appreciate what we have and to care about those less fortunate. That’s why we donate outgrown clothes and toys to Goodwill. That’s why I slip some money into the Salvation Army’s bucket at Christmas time. That’s why we end each night by listing all of the things we’re thankful for which includes food, shelter and good health.

But is that enough? Case in point: my daughter's school recently collected new and used supplies for the animal shelter. I suggested she gather up cat toys she could find around our house since our ten-year-old tiger cat would rather sleep than play. My daughter wasn’t satisfied with that. I told her if she wanted to buy items, then she could spend her own money on them. Without hesitating, she ran upstairs and opened her piggy bank. She had $9.78 left from her birthday money.  I didn’t want her to regret this tomorrow, so I reminded her of the things she could buy with her savings: doll clothes and books about fairies.  She suddenly thought those things were trivial.

At this point, I gladly took her to the store so she could select pet toys, collars and tiny cans of tuna-flavored food. She remembered how happy our striped kitty was when I let her lick the can after I made tuna salad. My daughter decided she wanted to buy some Fancy Feast for our Cat Chow cat, too.

I was so proud of her. She cared about the animals at the shelter just as much as she did about her own grumpy cat. 

I am not good at playing games. Years ago I won at bowling and was so ecstatic, I jumped for joy. When my future husband pointed out that I wasn’t a graceful winner, I apologized and explained that I’d never won before. Not bowling, not mini-golf, not anything. Growing up, it seemed my father always won the games we played. If it were just my older brother and I, I still couldn’t compete. I told my fiance that I had plenty of practice losing. “I’m a good loser,” I promised.

The other night, however, I wondered if this were true. My husband and I had bought the board game Clue for our seven year old daughter. In elementary school, I’d played it a couple times at a friend’s house and enjoyed it. After all, it had colorful characters like Mrs. Peacock and Professor Plum, miniature revolvers and candlesticks, and it offered the chance to play detective.  I was excited that my daughter was finally old enough to play a game I’d truly enjoy. No more Candyland or Don’t Break the Ice for me.

She requested we play every night and more often than not, my husband set aside the papers he was grading and took his place around the table. It surprised us the first time our daughter solved the mystery. Then she won again. And when she didn’t win, my husband did.

Wait a minute.

I noticed a pattern developing. My husband won because of his exceptional deductive reasoning skills. My daughter won because she wasn’t afraid to guess and be wrong. But me—I waited to accuse a suspect until I was 100% sure. By that time, someone else would beat me to the punch.

Last night my daughter wanted to play again and I suggested we take a break. This game that I’d fantasized about as a child turned out to be yet another one in which I had no skill. Then my husband teased me, “Momma doesn’t want to play because she always loses.”

Here the Mommy Guilt kicked in. Everything I say and do is setting an example. How could I expect my little girl to smile and say, “Good game” after she lost when I didn’t?

So I took a deep breath and agreed to participate. Right away I could tell I was going to lose again. I rolled plenty of ones and twos. I got trapped in a room I didn’t want to be in. The fates conspired against me. Too soon my daughter bragged that she knew the weapon and the guilty party. All she had left was to figure out the location of the crime. My husband said he had it narrowed down to 25%. Ugh! I told them both to be quiet or people wouldn’t like playing with them. (And by “people” I mostly meant me.) My husband “Awwww” ed in my direction.

That’s when I realized that after plenty of experience, I hadn’t even mastered the art of losing gracefully.

Sensing that one of my opponents would soon win, I was frustrated that they seemed closer to a solution than I was. But I did have a pretty good guess. I decided to take a page from my daughter’s playbook. For the first time ever, I dared to make an accusation without 100% certainty.

Fate smiled upon me and I was right. I’d won! Finally I felt the rush of victory. I reminded myself not to smile too broadly. Good sportsmanship (and good role modeling) take effort.

What amazes me is how well my daughter handles it when she guesses the answer and is wrong. Patiently she waits for the game to end, giddy because we are doing something together as a family. She doesn’t let her mistake stop her from taking a chance the next time, either. Perhaps those who excel at games, like in life, are those willing to risk failure.

Sometimes we win and sometimes we lose. What matters is that we had fun along the way--together.

Are you a good loser? I'd love to hear your comments!

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