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I was supposed to attend the Scottsdale Society of Women Writers meeting last night at the Marriott Suites, featuring Laura Tohe, published poet. However, in my ignorance, I decided to get a physical Tuesday, which entailed a tetanus shot and three tubes of blood stolen from my body. Since then, I’ve fallen victim to what I’m calling “The Black Plague”—sinus congestion, body aches, headaches, and general extreme exhaustion. What I’m trying to say, is that I was too sick to attend last night’s writers’ meeting.

Now, if that last paragraph had been attacked by a writers’ group, they would have said I went off on a tangent. I took too long to get to my point. I lost my focus. Which brings me to my real point of discussion: writers’ groups.

For me, it started in college. The opening scene of the film adaptation of Michael Chabon’s Wonder Boys ought to give you a good feel for a college writing workshop—a bunch of kids, reading each others’ work, and tearing each other new ones. It’s not always a massacre (“I hate it. His stories make me want to kill myself.”), but there can be grudges that last the entire semester, based on the critique of a single sentence.

I’ve matured since those days, but not by much. I joined a writers’ group as soon as I moved here, to Phoenix, and I still tend to have a big mouth and perhaps say things I shouldn’t. I didn’t used to be like this. I was at least semi-concerned for the well-being of others, during my college days. I’ve found the older I get, the less my internal filter seems to do its job. Life is too short to be nice when being mean might help another artist grow, I suppose.

But this all got me to thinking: why do we do this to ourselves? Why do we, writers, have a need to hang out and talk about our work? Is it because we believe, as Wonder Boys’ Grady Tripp, that “most people don’t think. And if they do, it’s not about writing. Books—they don’t mean anything. Not anymore.” I know it feels that way sometimes, as a writer. Some days, I wake up and know I’m supposed to work on my novel that afternoon, and I think, “Why? What does it matter? If it even gets published, it’ll just end up on some dusty, library shelf, forgotten and ignored.”

I do my best to shake these demons, but hey, I’m a writer. I’m insecure. I’m terrible at accepting criticism. I’m like a child throwing a tantrum, and sometimes the child in me just doesn’t want to be a writer anymore. Why couldn’t I have been born a banker? A scientist? Sure, I probably would have been miserable, but I would have had a job. I would have had a steady paycheck. I would have had quantifiable ways to measure my success.

This is why we do it. This is why we writer people stick together and talk about stuff, because we need to know that someone cares—someone out there is listening, someone is championing us, saying “Keep writing! You’re gonna do it! Keep on going, you writer, you!” We ultimately measure our success via the opinions of other writers, so we have to stick together or tempt the eventuality of getting “a real job.”

At its simplest, a writers’ group is just a friendship forum—a way to meet new people with interests a lot like yours. Because, when it comes down to it, I’m a believer in Wonder Boys: “Nobody teaches a writer anything. You tell them what you know. You tell them to find their voice and stay with it. You tell the ones that have it to keep at it; you tell the ones that don’t have it to keep at it, too, because that’s the only way they’re going to get where they’re

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I love Flagstaff. I don’t want you to feel like I’m cramming a bunch of information down your throat, but, well, I am. Last weekend, Jake and me and our buddy Randy headed to Flagstaff. Randy had a softball tournament, but that was really the least of our concerns. We were really there to see the city. And get out of the Phoenix heat. So, similar to my Ignite Phoenix blog post, I’m going to use the item 1, 2, 3, etc, formula and tell you about the heavenly place that is Flagstaff, Arizona.

1) The City. Flagstaff is about three and a half hours north of us, right near the Grand Canyon. It’s a mountain town, famous for its skiing and snowboarding. It’s also a college town. Home to Northern Arizona University, you can smell the college kids and their microbrew hangovers. In fact, Flagstaff felt a helluva lot like Athens, Ohio, where I went to school at Ohio University. It’s hilly. It’s green. The weather is to die for, and the main objective is to eat, drink, and be merry. It’s a lot smaller than I expected. Jake and I drove around the city for about ten minutes, and I had it all figured out. I knew my way around, because like I said, it felt like Athens. And after dealing with the SPRAWL of Phoenix, it felt like home. I didn’t want to leave. I liked the quaintness. I liked the cooler temps and the longed-for greenery. Plus, there’s a train track that runs along the edge of the downtown historic district, and I’ve always found something comforting about the sound of a train whistle.

2)  The Food. I’d like to talk about THREE food/drink destinations in Flag.

Late for the Train Cafe. It’s a coffee shop in the historic district on San Francisco Street. It’s tiny inside. There’s not much space for hanging out with your cup o’ Joe. But hell, the coffee is so good, who cares? I ordered the Fireman’s Mocha. There was actually a warning that said the stuff wasn’t kid-safe. So of course, I had to have it. It’s a Habanero Hot Cocoa (cocoa with New Mexico chili spices, vanilla, and almond) with two shots of espresso added. It’s spicy!!!! Spicy coffee??! Superb.

Diablo Burger. Okay, so I found it in the Frommer’s Guide. Don’t judge me. Frommer’s called it “the quintessential hole in the wall.” It was in a strange location, built behind a mural (more on this later) inside a parking garage support column. The sign is simple and small. And the food? You know how when you’re drunk, everything tastes like a gourmet meal? Well, this is the same way, only you don’t have to be drunk. But by the end of the meal, you kind of feel like you are, because you’re so damn happy about life. I wanted to hug the guy behind the bar, who was super cool, by the way. The food is local, and the servers were more like friends than employees. I had The Blake: homemade hatch chile mayo, roasted green chiles, and sharp cheddar. Jake had the Vitamin B: bacon, beet, and blue cheese. Everything is served medium rare, and they even brand their English muffin buns with a “db.” So freakin’ cool. Best burger I’ve

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If you’re here to watch my Ignite Phoenix 7 presentation, entitled “The Art of Bad Writing,” click HERE. If you’d like to read about the event, as its own entity, please continue.

I already covered the background of Ignite Phoenix 7 in an earlier entry on my blog. It was something that, as an Arizona newcomer, I just had to get involved in. Its tagline is “Lighting a fire under the Valley’s creative community.” Again, as a newcomer, Phoenix felt too large to have community, so when I heard “creative” and “community” in the same sentence, I thought BETTER GET INVOLVED. So I did. I submitted my presentation: “The Art of Bad Writing.” I submitted my bio: “Sara is an editor, proofreader, writer, and publicist. She’s a shiny, new transplant to AZ. She expects to see Clint Eastwood whenever her car hits tumbleweed. She does not own cowboy boots, and if you ask her to meet in CenPho, she thinks she’s going to some high-end clothing store.” And I got picked.

The event took place Friday, June 11, 2010, at the Phoenix Art Museum downtown. It came, it saw, it conquered. Now, here’s what I thought.

1) The Preparation. The Ignite Phoenix crew, led in this instance by Brian Carson, hosts a workshop for the presenters. This workshop is necessary and filled with gems. Some guiding points for me: Add a moment of silence before your big point. Be sure to have an audience call to action at the end. And remember to tell a story—what created your passion? I think these tips equate to all speaking engagements, and I’m very thankful that Ignite has this “training” program. Plus, I had the chance to meet a bunch of my fellow presenters. Some of Phoenix’s finest!

2) The Venue. Uh, can you say AWESOME? The Phoenix Art Museum is pretty cool on its own. (I mean they have a Frida Kahlo! Come ON!) But add a big, glowing “Ignite Phoenix” screen, six hundred people, and a full bar? The venue becomes a glorious, glamorous, big freakin’ deal! The courtyard outside was whimsical and calming, somehow, because how could I be nervous when everything was so pretty? The rows were a little crammed together inside, but hey, it’s about community, right? Plus, it was the most beautiful evening I’ve ever seen since moving here—clear sky, cool breeze, and crisp air. I may be a novice (this was my first Ignite Phoenix ever), but hey, I thought this epic setting was … uh, epic.

3) The Experience. Before going on stage, they made us sit backstage together. Nine people, nervous as hell, pacing and jumping up and down. It was not the chillest environment, yet I did feed on the energy of my other presenters. Their nerves got my nerves going, which led to some serious fight or flight. And I didn’t “flight,” damn it—I fought. My theater minor from college woke up after years of disuse. I climbed onto that stage in four-inch platform heels and did it. The five minutes went by in a blur. I remember laughter. I remember feeling good up there. I remember getting off stage. And then, there was t

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It’s no secret that I love children’s books. I’ve worked with children’s book authors in a promotional capacity for years, and I believe in the thorough importance of reading to kids as soon as they’re born. It’ll make them read when they’re older, and let’s face it, people who read are smarter and more creative than people who don’t. So … there.

I attended the Tucson Festival of Books back in March, because I’m a book nerd. I had an inspiring, educational time. I got to meet one of my childhood icons, Jon Scieszka (author of The Stinky Cheese Man), and I even had my picture taken with the Berenstain Bears. However, as luck would have it, I also had the chance to see author/illustrator Adam Rex take part in a presentation entitled “Four Funny Guys: Humor in Children’s Books.” And well, Adam Rex is a very, very funny guy.

About Adam Rex: Adam Rex grew up in Phoenix, Arizona, the middle of three children. He was neither the smart one (older brother) or the cute one (younger sister), but he was the one who could draw. He took a lot of art classes as a kid, trying to learn to draw better, and started painting when he was 11. Later he got a BFA from the University of Arizona, and met his physicist wife Marie (who is both the smart and cute one).

Adam and Marie live in Tucson, where Adam draws, paints, writes, spends too much time on the internet, and listens to public radio. Adam is nearsighted, bad at all sports, learning to play the theremin, and usually in need of a shave. He can carry a tune, if you don’t mind the tune getting dropped and stepped on occasionally. He never remembers anyone’s name until he’s heard it at least three times. He likes animals, spacemen, Mexican food, Ethiopian food, monsters, puppets, comic books, 19th century art, skeletons, bugs, and robots.

His first picture book, THE DIRTY COWBOY by Amy Timberlake, was published by FSG in 2003. His picture book FRANKENSTEIN MAKES A SANDWICH, a collection of stories about monsters and their problems, was a New York Times Bestseller. 2007 saw the release of his first novel, THE TRUE MEANING OF SMEKDAY. His second, a book for teens and adults called FAT VAMPIRE, will be published in July 2010.

Garlic and crosses are useless against Adam. Sunlight has been shown to be at least moderately effective. A silver bullet does the trick. Pretty much any bullet, really. Check out his website here: http://www.adamrex.com/.

Now, lucky you, meet Adam Rex …

An H and Five Ws with Author/Illustrator Adam Rex

How did you become a children’s book writer/illustrator?

At 21 I got my first illustration job—some fill-in work on a comic book—and promptly cut down on my class schedule, convinced I’d been given my break and would be busy with freelance work from then on.  Then nothing happened for several months, but I couldn’t expand my class schedule because I’d lost my tuition waiver by changing to part-time status.  But I slowly earned more work, and by the time I graduated (5.5 years after I’d begun), I had regular jobs coming in, mostly from role-playing game companies like TSR, Wizards of the Coast, and White Wolf.  None of it paid very well, so I just did a lot of it, poorly.  <

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I met photographer Chris Loomis at an unbelievable showing of his work last First Friday on Roosevelt Row, in downtown PHX. Something about the soft edges of his imagery, mixed with an eerie simplicity, resonated with me. I thought to myself, I gotta meet this guy. Then, I met the guy and asked to see more of his work. Then, I had to know where this art comes from, so … here’s an interview! (All images copyright Chris Loomis 2010.)

About Chris Loomis: Chris Loomis received his BFA at the University of North Texas and a diploma at the Brooks Institute of Photography. After a job in LA as an in-house photographer for Seiniger Advertising, he moved to Arizona to start a business as a freelance commercial/editorial photographer. He has shot for numerous publications as well as many clients in the area and abroad. He has also done quite a bit of wedding work to which he owes a great deal for his experience in generating creative ideas while on the fly. Right now, along with his commercial work, he is striving to elevate and blend his love of fashion and fine art (photography) with some inspiration/admiration of science fiction (film), surrealism/pop-surrealism, film-making, and even music.

An H and Five Ws with Photographer Chris Loomis

How did you become a photographer?

I became a photographer after switching majors in college from music to fine art. I took painting, drawing, and graphic design classes and got a lot from them but couldn’t see myself making a living in those areas. Then I took my first B&W photography course and realized it was an intriguing challenge, rewarding AND something I could do as a career; it was immediate and tangible yet artistic.

Who is your biggest artistic influence?

I don’t have just one or two artistic influence(s), I have a lot. Fashion and pop-surrealism magazines (Hi-Fructose Magazine is very inspiring to me). Sci-fi television and movies totally propel my sense of wonder. Fashion design (Gareth Pugh, John Galliano, for example) also is hugely influential and inspiring. There are of course many photographers whose work influences/inspires me as well: i.e. Robert Mapplethorpe, Joel Peter Witkin, Young Bok Park, Arthur Tress, Nick Knight, David LaChapelle, and Gregory Colbert, just to name a few.

What is your definition of “creativity”?

My definition of creativity: artistic problem solving, thinking “outside of the box” in terms of innovation; not just for photography or art but in any area: science, medicine, design, fashion design, music, literature, film, even sports…it’s boundless.

Where (of the places you have NOT been) would you like to do a photo shoot someday? 

I would love to do a photo sh

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