Writingchat Bios: R
See Sue Wemett.
See Margi Washburn.
My name is Mary Restaino, and I aspire to be a writer. I worked as a writer for a local newspaper about six years ago, but lost my job when the paper changed its format and let all of the writers go. Afterwards, I had difficulty finding a job as a writer. For the last five years I have been raising a family. I have two children, ages two and four. I live on Long Island, New York.
Now I'm in the process of dusting off my clips and putting together a portfolio. I just applied for a technical writing job and I'm waiting for a reply. Most of my writing experience has been as a reporter but I would like to try my hand at creative writing. I'm a little nervous about trying and failing.
If anyone could recommend a creative writing workshop for a writer just starting out, I would be most appreciative.
I'm from Arkansas and I'll eat damn near anything, if it's fried. Look at me
and you'll see a guy with lots of defiant brown hair and clear blue eyes
looking right back at you. I stand 6' 1", weigh 158, and would rather book a root canal
than visit a gym. Other than the small tendrils snaking out of the ears,
nostrils and eyebrows of middle aged guys (I'm 47), I wear no facial hair. I got a
killer smile, but people tell me I frown when I think. I think a lot, but usually not
enough, especially before speaking.
I joined my first band when I was fifteen. Over the years I've put
together a small recording studio and learned to play a few instruments. My primary
instrument is a Fender Telecaster I bought back in '73 when I was tending bar
at Morgan's Lounge down in Natchez, Mississippi. After nine months of
partying, I mean bar tending, I signed on as a roadie for a band called Blue
John and wound up stranded in this place I now call home: Spokane,
Washington. At the moment I'm playing with a bunch of eclectic old farts
called One Too Many. I help pay the bills by working as an Electronic Media
Producer at The Intercollegiate Center Nursing Education.
On the third Thursday of January, 1974, I met an actor in a downtown bar
called The Smoke Shop. I lied my ass off and told her I loved to dance and
we've been together ever since. We created a girl that's about to enter college
to study art, and a boy that's looking for a job so he can buy a car. and btw,
the actor is still acting. She does a couple of plays a year for a local
professional theater called InterPlayers.
About fifteen years ago I got suckered into writing by telling my mother I'd
type her memoirs. She sent me three manuscripts of God-awful scribbling and
there was no way my conscience would let me just type it and forget it. So,
with her permission, I culled thirteen short stories from the mess, placed them
in chronological order, stuck a "The End" on it and called it quits. My mother
died before the project was completed but after getting seals of approval from
her other eight children, I'm satisfied.
I remember when WritingChat was formed, and why; but I didn't join until
just after the great penis gourd debate. I don't contribute much to the
conversations. just a little poetry now and then, or I might have some
pertinent trivia. It's kinda like when Gail and I go out for dinner, we
don't talk much because we're both too busy eavesdropping on the other tables.
My name is Lesli (y'all can call me Les) I'm 26, proud mommy to a beautiful 18-month old son, and am Warren's (aka Jon-Boy) love slave....
eh....you don't have to post that last part to the official page though.
I'm 26 (or just a month shy of) and trying to speed my divorce through the molasses slow halls of the Florida civil judicial system. (BTW, Warren's was final April 2. *GRIN*) I'm a Florida native (endangered species) who's lived in FLA all her life (even rarer). Warren likes to joke that by marrying me he's trying to preserve the species. *GRIN* (He's originally from Ohio.)
I used to live 200 miles north of where I do now, in the Tampa Bay area, but I've found life MUCH nicer down here in Englewood with Warren. *GRIN* Once I finally finish doing mundane things like unpacking, laying down shelf-paper in the kitchen, doing my taxes, buying furniture and stuff like that, I can spend more time fighting Warren for the computer and take more of an active role in the list. *GRIN*
Right now, it's been a real hoot with two writers trying to share one computer, especially when one of us is trying to write a newspaper on deadline (that'd be Warren). But we're coping admirably, I think. *grin*
I write fiction (mystery, suspense, horror) and poetry. I'm trying my hand at free-lance articles, and currently trying to get my novel Red Tide in shape for subbing to publishers. I had poetry published when I was in school. In my time I've worked at a pet shop, as an exotic bird trainer for a tourist attraction, in an insurance office; I was the parts manager for a marina, and for (too) many years I worked with my (soon-to-be)ex husband running an automotive machine shop/repair business. I'm ASE
certified in brake repair, and I've rebuilt more engines than I really care to think about (certainly more than many men who claim to be mechanics). I'm a scuba diver assistant instructor. I try not to jump into too many political/religious discussions because I tend to tick everyone off on both sides.
THE BIOGRAPHY OF JUDGE BABS
"Write what you know," every writer is told
and what can I know if not Me?
Now THEY say "Write bios," and lo and beyold
I panic at such a decree.
For fifty years now I've been churning out words:
a teacher of English (unable to spell)
and Spanish (to eighth grade Hispanics.) Absurd's
a term that describes that year well.
Then church work I turned to and got a degree
in "Churchified Edge-you-cashun."
The school that I went to was in Tennessee
but Texas my heart's ever won.
I moved to Fort Worth where the wild west begins
and worked in a church for two years
but the love bugs jumped in and they played violins
so Mike I did marry midst tears.
I moved then to Wichita Falls where he was
and beat the streets looking for work.
I found a job typing then quit it because
Mike transferred to Austin as clerk.
Not really, but business office trainee doesn't rhyme.
I was hired by a law firm to type
and lobbied for liquor store, too. I'm
telling you truthful, don't gripe.
A year and a half, I was bored with the job
but expected to move anytime.
To enroll in a law school for fun is macabre
but I did and I found it sublime.
Young David was born the next August and we
a semester spent bonding at home.
I wrote Methodist youth lesson plans for a fee
which were better by far than this pome.
Well, lo and behold, I finished the course, with honors
to my great surprise. And we chose
to move to be nearer our mothers and fathers
back here where the cotton patch grows.
In Abilene, Texas, I practiced at law and son Jeffrey's,
birth finished the fam'ly. For nine
years I lawyered and mothered and tried to charge fees
but I crumbled when clients would whine.
I needed a job with a paycheck, you see,
and I looked and found one that I liked
but to sit as a judge took election by county
and talking to strangers. Eeks! Yike!
But I've been on the bench for nine years now it seems
and I like it, I love it in fact.
I hide in my chambers while lawyers talk schemes
and write books while they all interact.
My books are for children, but unsold I fear,
and I wrote one for grown-ups as well.
My hobby, 'sides writing, is hanging out here;
in the coffeehouse I like to dwell.
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