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Five Resources for Writers: Research and Writing

Min Jin Lee: Interviewing for Fiction


American Antiquarian Society
They collect anything on paper in the United States  prior to 1876. They have amazing things!
Creative and Performing Artists Fellowships
Fall deadline:  Last year it was mid-October
Tip:  They want you to be refer to specific materials in the collection that you're interested in seeing, so you can start exploring the online resources now.

Wellcome Collection Astounding online collection on the history of medicine and health. Plus a library and gallery in London.

Tantalizing Glimpses is a Study Room guide on fat and performance art (or live art) by Charlotte Cooper.  It's also a great resource for anyone who has reason to feel unwelcome in an archive.  Free to download.

Hawthornden Castle Write and live for a month in a Scottish castle.
For the Hawthornden residency, you have to write a letter to the director, requesting an application form:
Hawthornden Castle
The International Retreat for Writers
EH18 1EG   UK
The application form  has to be submitted in hard copy. (I wrote mine by hand.) You also need two professional references. It's a slow process, so sending a letter asking for an application might make sense even at a moment when it would be difficult or impossible to travel.

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Feb 15 deadline for Scholarship to Write Historical Fiction with Me

There is one week to apply for a scholarship to come to a workshop in beautiful Mendocino and write historical fiction with me!  Lots of other great scholarships, too.  Don't miss that deadline! 


Find all of the scholarship information here

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Book Club Discussion Questions: Spider in a Tree

Questions for Discussion
1.    How are the Jonathan, Leah, Sarah, Saul, Joseph, Elisha and others  in the novel like you and others you know? In what ways are they different?
2.    What do you think the fact that this is a novel – a work of fiction--  brings to this history? What does it make possible? What does it leave you wanting more of?  What do you make of the fact that many (but not all) of the characters in the book are based on people who really did live in 18th century New England? 

3.    Do you like the character Jonathan Edwards as a person?  How about Leah? 

4.    Do you find it surprising that the household of Jonathan, an 18th century Calvinist preacher and theologian, included enslaved people?  

5.    What role does religion play in the life of Jonathan Edward? In the life of Leah?  Saul? How does Sarah express her faith? What does it mean to Elisha? 

6.    Have you ever been to any of the places in the book?  New England? Northampton? If you have, how did your experiences in those places relate to them as portrayed in the book?  What do you think the landscape offers or means to Jonathan Edwards? To Leah? Other characters? 

7.    Why do you think the residents of Northampton made the decision to expel the Edwards family? 
8.      Did you come to the book already knowing about Jonathan Edwards and his theology? If yes, what have your experiences with it been?  How did those experiences affect the ways you read the novel? If not, how did you experience it?

9.    Susan Stinson:  "We all bring different perspectives, experiences, emotions, analyses and histories to this discussion, and perhaps different senses of what is sacred. I think that is all of the more reason to examine these stories of deeply-held religious belief as human stories.  I'm not a historian or a theologian. I'm a novelist. I believe that the engagement, empathy and insight we bring to history is shaped by the engagement, empathy and insight with which we approach the telling of stories."


Do that sound like a useful approach to history to you?  Can you think of a time from your own life when telling a story was helpful in a tense or complicated moment or subject matter?

10. Did you look at the (small print!) notes on research at the back of the book?  Why or why not? 

11. On pp 115-118, there are quotes from Jonathan Edwards's most famous sermon, "Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God." On p. 304, there is a quote from his treatise, "The Nature of True Virtue."  Do you respond to more strongly to one of these writings from Jonathan Edwards than the other? What do you make of the differences between them? 

12. Do any of the situations or moral dilemmas in the book have implications for current times?  If so, what are they? 

13. If you could travel back in time and speak to one of the characters of the book, who would you choose? What would you say?

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"This theology haunts us still": a passionate email from a reader

I wrote my novel Spider in a Tree with a commitment to create characters who were eighteenth century Calvinists and also actual people who lived and died (this is true of many of my characters, but not all of them). That is one reason I love the mail below so much. I love the reader/writer's passion, and I love being able to picture her and the rest of her book club sitting around a restaurant table, taking the risk to discuss the history, theology, and stories from my novel together.  Here, with permission, is a very slightly edited version of this reader's email. I wrote some book club discussion questions for them, which I'll include in my next post. #



Ms. Stinson, I read your book with interest and delight. I grew up in a Southern Baptist home where Jonathan Edwards theology was still taken seriously. I managed to escape that over a long journey. At 75, I am a Humanist with an appreciation for the best in the mythology of the Christian faith, and anger at its misuse in condemnation of those who do not agree with the patriarchal, individualistic, and tribal orthodoxy which supports the Trumpist Republican Party. 

I am in a small book club of other grandmotherly women, all of whom still regularly attend Protestant churches except for myself, and all 7 of us have always voted Democrat. This month is my turn to choose the book and I chose your book, "Spider in a Tree." 


We meet next Wednesday night at a local restaurant as is our custom. 
It is our practice for the one who chose the book to prepare questions for discussion. Usually the publisher or author has suggested questions. In this case, I find none. I am a little uneasy about writing my own questions for fear of unintentionally offending others. They know I am not a true believer. I am sure they pray for me. 

I know this is excruciatingly short notice, but perhaps you have been asked before, and may have suggested discussion questions at hand. If you do, I would be most grateful for help. 

Again, I thoroughly enjoyed reading your historical novel which dealt honestly and compassionately with this most formative period in our nation's history. This theology haunts us still. Where I live, I see only great harm done by this threat of God's punishment with hellfire for everything from abortion to homosexuality. I believe the crusade against these two conceal the "greater sin" named before the Civil Rights era of misogyny. Condemning race mixing is no longer fashionable, but "protecting innocent babies from evil women and doctors" and "abominable sex acts" still puts copper in the offering plates. 

As you see, I am passionate about these issues. 
Thank you for your time in reading my request. 


I wish you well and look forward to reading more of your talented and inspiring writing. 



Here's a link to the Book Club Questions for Spider in a Tree

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Remembering Meridith Lawrence

Two fat white women look at each other, smiling, on a sidewalk.  Both have short brown hair. One is in jeans and a jean jacket. One (me) has on red pants, a black shirt and a red coat.

I just learned, through a beautiful, heartbreaking post by her wife Judith Stein, that Meridith Lawrence has died.


I met Meridith in the early eighties when she was co-running a Fat Lesbian Group at the Cambridge Women's Center. She had an infectious laugh and lots of knowledge of communities I wanted to be part of. Meridith really was the person who opened to doors for me to explore what it might mean to be a fat dyke who was determined to live a full, complex, self-loving life with plenty of company from others who were doing the same.


At first Meridith's lover Judith was mostly a legend — a fat leader and writer who wasn't going to groups any more — but it wasn't too long before I met Judith, too, at a raucous group meal after she gave a reading at New Words, the women's bookstore in Inman Square. Judith and Meridith were so glamorous and sophisticated to me. The love between them was palpable, always. Meridith and I organized a one-time fat swim together at the public pool in JP, across the street from my apartment.


I used to run into Meridith on the bus sometimes, too — she talked to me about how to negotiate space in those not-big-enough-seats — I believe she said her response to being shunned by strangers on buses was, "Ummhmm, yes, more room for me."


Meridith and Judith threw fantastic parties full of people I wanted to talk to, in their home filled with fat art. They were generous with me in more ways than I can say. They hosted me and other writers from Western Mass when we came east to the big city to go the OutWrite Conference, that wonderful gathering of queer writers that happened year after year in the nineties. They went, too, of course. They paid the fee for me to go to a fat conference.


Meridith had bold opinions and an organizer's soul. She had warmth. She was brave, and she talked about things that had been taboo. Once I interviewed Judith and Meridith about the history of fat activism at the Michigan Womyn's Music. I was on radio shows with them in the eighties, too. (Charlotte Cooper digitized those — I'll try to link to them in the comments.) Oh, and the anniversary boat rides and West Side Story parties! Such community-builders, Meridith and Judith.


I haven't seen Judith and Meridith in recent years, but I know that there are those who have been experiencing all of that love, friendship and warmth on the West Coast. I am mourning for Judith, for all who loved Meridith, and for the loss of such a powerful presence in the world. Here's picture of Meridith and me on the way to the OutWrite Conference in Copley Square in Boston in June 1995. Sally Bellerose was there, too, but I am pretty sure that Judith took the picture.


 Donations in Meridith Lawrence's memory may be made to the following:
Women's International league for peace and freedom
Black lives matter.
Power to live 
Sogorea Te' Land Trust

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Historical Fiction at Mendocino Coast Writing Conference

I am teaching Writing Historical Fiction at the Mendocino Coast Writing Conference this summer. Scholarship applications are open now.  Check out the amazing faculty and workshops  (I am particularly excited about Kij Johnson, whose stories I love.)  Come write with me in a beautiful place! 

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Remembering Hilary Sloin


Novelist and playwright Hilary Sloin died last week.  Hilary was an old friend and writing companion.  I wrote about Hilary and her work for Lambda Literary Review. 


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Library as Writing Prompt

A fat, middle-aged white woman wearing black with brown hair in a bun stands on her toes on a lit glass floor between shelves of books, reaching for a book on a high shelf.
Susan Stinson in the Stacks. Photo by Jeep Wheat. 



[This essay originally appeared as part of a series about being Writer in Residence at Forbes Library in Northampton, MA on LIBRARYASINCUBATORPROJECT on Mar 6, 2014. I am posting it now as I am getting ready to stop facilitating a writing room at Forbes, which I have run for nine years.  I've put a link at the end of this post so that you can find the essay as it was originally published online or read the whole series. SS]

by Susan Stinson


Prompt:  This morning, turn gently to the story. Enter into language in a way that makes room for you to follow subtle, insistent currents.  There is a tension here between perceiving, receiving, remembering and making.  Work those tensions until they yield something the work needs.

Every Wednesday and Saturday morning, I bring three new writing prompts written by hand on index cards to the Writing Room at the library.  Most mornings, I write them before breakfast, at the kitchen table or sitting cross-legged in bed.  When I get to the Watson Room, I spread the cards out on the long, beautiful table, near the foot, where the young writer who I know copies them in her notebook every week can easily reach them.  Some of the writers pick them up every time they come, and some never use them at all, but writing them is a pleasure for me.  They keep me in conversation with the experience of writing as I know it, live it, and witness it.  It is like meditating on brushes with other minds.  Maybe writing is always like that.  Maybe coming to the library is, too.

Prompt: Perhaps you've been deep in sorrows, frustrations, dreams, or all three.  Don't fight them this morning, but ride the force of them into your work.  Be as small as you are and let the feelings and experiences be as big as they are. This will connect with your work, if you let it. "Be not afeard, the isle is full of noises…" (That's a line from The Tempest, William Shakespeare.)

When Forbes library is about to close, a librarian walks among the patrons, ringing a long-handled brass bell.  The librarians have a calm, quiet air about them at this task, and the sound is beautiful.   It is the end of the day, which is both loss and release.  Sometimes it signals another a good day of work, done.   Sometimes, I leave knowing more about what I'd like to write tomorrow.

Prompt: It's the rhythm, the groove, cultivation of a new/renewed habit. Turn to the writing as if you're used to doing it. Turn with relaxed, dogged patience and a capacity to be surprised. The work is the thing, today. Do the work. 
When I first started writing this series of posts about being Writer in Residence at Forbes for the Library as Incubator Project, my most recent novel, which I worked on for ten years with lots of help from Forbes, had been out for less than a week.  Today, as I drafted this post in the Writing Room, three writers were there for the first time, one faithful participant was celebrating nearing the end of a book project, and we all bent over the writing together, whether working in the same room or throughout the building.  When I started as Writer in Residence at Forbes, I was feeling a bit isolated and discouraged about the prospects of Spider in a Tree ever being published.   Today, I feel part of a beautiful community of people who use to the library to make, research, gather, serve, reflect, play, grieve, write, read, and dream.  A friend just posted a picture of a book wrapped up in plain brown paper for a Blind Date with A Book at the Palmer Public library, with the following description: "Famous eighteenth-century theologian seeks audience for fiery sermons and inner turmoil in Northampton, Massachusetts. Members of my household with other perspectives encouraged to reply.  Must love (rhetorical) arachnids and local history!"  This is clearly my book about Jonathan Edwards and company.  I am thrilled, almost to the point of tears.  Creative, playful, engaged librarians all over the country give such lovely moments to library patrons over and over again.  What could be better for me– as a writer, a reader, a participant in my community and as a human being– than that?  What could be richer than working to help make more of those connections for other writers and readers?

Just now, when I got up for a drink of water, I ran into Elise Bernier-Feeley, the Special Collections librarian, who was marveling over a nineteenth century newspaper article about turkeys in the snow.  (It was good, but I won't give it away.)  She told me that she'd go try to find a book she knows that includes a great section on seventeenth century barrel-making, which I need for my next novel.  When I finish this, I'm going to go out into the welcome, warm February day and sit for a minute or two on the bench beside the library with my feet on the doorstep from the house that Jonathan and Sarah Edwards lived in on King Street.  I like having my feet on something old, ordinary and useful for a while.  I like how Forbes honors the histor(ies) of its community while throwing its very heavy doors open to all kinds of creation.  The library is itself is a prompt: to write, to read, to make, to work to stay open to ideas, people, and aesthetic experiences.   I love thinking about libraries all over the country doing that within and among their own communities, and what fantastic art is coming from that for all of us.

Want More?
·       Check out what Forbes Library is up to on Facebook and by following @ForbesLibrary on Twitter.
·       Learn more about Susan and her work by visiting her website and following @susanstinson on Twitter.

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[Inspired by many years of pool parties in fat liberation contexts -- and specifically NOLOSE -- I wrote this short short at least fifteen years ago.  Social media is buzzing about fat pool parties right now because of a scene in the television show "Shrill," which is based on a book of essays by Lindy West. ETA: The episode itself was written by Samantha Irby.  The buzz made me want to send this back out into the world."  Susan Stinson]



Once a year, fat women drink a swimming pool. We always go to the same hotel, a dumpy little franchise with a parking lot full of seagulls and a musty smell. Half of the ice machines are always out of order, but the hard-pressed management has been responsive to our desire for privacy. They allow us to cover the windows with brown paper and close the pool to other guests after midnight. They used to be less willing to indulge our reluctance to hire a lifeguard, but now we request a local who is one of our own.
She tells us that other members of the staff have theories. Some say that with so many fat women in the pool, there is simply no room left for water. Others imagine something more dramatic: a splash like a tidal wave. No one straight out asks the lifeguard what happened, so she leaves them to their rumors while they take down the paper and refill the pool.
We drink it together, all at once. Some worry about getting sick, and, of course, some do, but -- sick or not -- we are made clean on the inside, where it counts. The chlorine is powerful, so strong that it fades the colors in our suits. We buy new ones every year. These are beautiful suits, specially made for us. One is a blue that starts dark at the curve of one hip then gets lighter and brighter, becomes a cloud over the breasts, and reaches darkness again at the strap. A summer day and night of a suit. Or orchids, hot and loud, splashed over one with a tiny skirt. Tankinis, boy shorts and aquatards with long zippers. A memorable Grecian thong. Yellow and green striped tanks and hot pink bikinis. We robe for the event. The hotel provides small towels.
As we prepare, there are nervous giggles. Shoulders hunch. We shed glasses, room keys and cover ups on plastic lounge chairs. There are enough of us to circle the pool. We do a concentration exercise in which each of us points two fingers to her own eyes, then points the fingers at the eyes of the person next to her. Now, no one laughs.
We lie flat on our bellies on the blue painted concrete edge. The pool is very full. One by one, women begin to drop into the water. Some are seasoned leaders. Others are shy girls wishing to submerge. Our largest go in early for the sake of volume. No one drinks until the water begins to spill over the pool's lip.
When it happens, the swimmers howl and swallow. The rest of us reach into the water, motioning it towards us with great wet swoops of our arms. We lower our faces and open our mouths. Then we drink. As the water level drops, we lean farther out. Women go on falling into the water. Some slide in, or, carefully, jump. We float, slurping like thirsty animals. Some of us lick each other's skin. We stay away from the suits, which are, in general, conservatively cut. Some of us stand in the shallow end and bend to drink. When the water is low, some kneel. We lap until our faces are pressed to the damp blue bottom. Then we turn on our backs and stare at the ceiling, sated. The smell of chlorine remains undiminished. Whenever one of us is ready to leave, we give her a boost to climb the delicate silver ladder out of the pool. If anyone doesn't want to risk the ladder or can't reach it, she moves to the shallow end where we lift her out, supported by nothing but scented air and the muscles in our willing arms.
copyright Susan Stinson, 2005
Previously published, Lambda Literary Journal

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American Antiquarian Artist Fellowships

The deadline to apply to do research for a novel, play, poetry, visual art, dance, or other creative work at the American Antiquarian Society in Worcester, MA is coming up on October 5, 2018.  American Antiquarian Society Artist Fellowships are fantastic.  I had one a couple years ago in support of the historical novel I am working on now, and couldn't believe the depth of their holdings and the generous support of their staff.  It was like having a brilliant, helpful research staff and access to incredible holdings.  There is a stipend and a housing option as well, complete with a room set up to be accessible for people with mobility disabilities, which is where I stayed. 

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