Camille Cusumano

Five Stars for E. Gilbert’s TED lecture.

I thoroughly enjoyed watching this video, a pastime I seldom allow myself.  But for  20-some minutes I sat glued to my iBook while real work nagged at me. Elizabeth Gilbert is a genius of sorts, the way Madonna is. Both are skillful in a few areas. Most people who excel in any one of those areas normally don’t bother to be skilled in the others. For example, Madonna sings, dances, and acts, all beautifully, but you wouldn’t call her a virtuoso in any one of those arts. It is her ability to cross-over, cross-breed her talent, along with her savvy management, that adds up to her unique  “madonna-ness” or what Gilbert might label “freakish success.” I am a fan of Madonna’s.

And I enjoyed Gilbert’s book, Eat, Pray, Love. I did almost put it down, but then I got to the part where the author begins to have crying jags over not wanting to get pregnant or to have children. I laughed out loud and thought, There’s nothing to it. Don’t get pregnant, don’t have kids, if you don’t want to. But without dramatic tension and deep conflict there is no story, in life and in literature. She wove that thread deftly.

I am grateful for a female author of Gilbert’s renown and stature, who shares my passion for the writing life and who loves kids, but doesn’t think, in her (my) case, there is room for them. She has been vilified as narcissistic. She may be, but that’s irrelevant to me. Is this label a double standard? Hers is a piece of literature where the woman is the heavy, telling the man, no, rejecting him, going off to have a torrid affair, and look for her soul. And then writing about it. Henry Miller did it. Norman Mailer did it. Hemingway . . . you can name the others. Heretofore, we had Erica Jong’s thinly-veiled fiction, Fear of Flying. But that seems to have crash landed long ago.

In Eat, Pray, Love, the writing is good, often excellent, but not great. What is my definition of great? Well, for one thing it would be a type of writing I felt I couldn’t achieve, like say, in Cynthia Ozick’s essays (even those with which I don’t agree). I and many others can and do write as Gilbert does. A commercial success, like hers, today or in the past, does not equal greatness. But it does merit our attention and consideration. (If her publisher wants to give me the same $200,000 advance, we can test this hypothesis—I’ll write Eat, Pray, Dance . . . )

Gilbert has done well in creative non-fiction, has written fiction, and is a noteworthy journalist. She is, like Madonna a cross-over talent: novelist, essayist, short story writer, biographer, memoirist—and, as her TED lecture proves, a standup comedian (I thought she was funny, the way Julie Sweeney is, with lots of substantial sobering commentary).

That she is not a virtuoso in any one of those above areas might well be a key to her “freakish success.” The times of sharply focused apprenticeship in one area have been over and done since the Middle Ages.

I stood in awe of Gilbert’s delivery of her talk —sans notes. Could she have memorized it all? I am fire and ice when I have to speak before a live public audience. I admired her ability to put herself at dead center of her talk: People keep asking me how am I going to top this huge success, EPL, she posits. And this, she suggests, makes her want to become self-destructive like Mailer, Hemingway, Woolf, etc. I’m sure only a small percentage ask that rhetorical question. But she made it her throughline, most skillfully.

So then, from the specific she leaps to the universal: Look at what we (society) do to our artists. It’s easy to get on board with her, because it is true we don’t support our artists/writers enough. But she doesn’t have time to cover the nuance, which maybe is the very oxygen of true greatness (something to ponder).

I’ll let you watch the lecture and enjoy her premises and conclusions, entertainingly delivered. The one assertion of hers, I’d take issue with, big time, is that we consider “genius” as an entity outside of ourselves, the way Greeks and Romans created gods for every human trait. (Never mind that I think she misrepresented the Greeks’ and Romans’ forms of belief in gods/mythology). But, the danger in this assertion is one that is highly visible today. The violence, wars,  bloodshed, and incredible inhumanity today has a direct link to the belief in this one god up there in heaven who is apart and separate from our human race. It has allowed us all to abdicate responsibility.

No, Elizabeth, do not take away the mysticism of genius, creation. It dwells in me, is me, of me. If I want to harm myself, I won’t blame society. I’ll take full responsibility, not blame God or anyone else.

As my days here in Buenos Aires are numbered, I notice everything the way I did when I first arrived nearly four years ago. The flower vendors that hunker down on crowded sidewalks, are once again a novelty. The way they festoon their booths with fragrant bouquets, the way they burn incense to lure you by way of your nose . . . the way one in particular, poses his mate gourd mid-air stares off into the distance, perhaps mulling over today’s news: A father and son found each other after 33 years. A classic bittersweet story. But maybe the vendor, like me, can only think of the sordid details and wonder . . .

I will not become a numb, jaded expat.

This evening, Azucena, the lovely portera in my building here on Arenales, invited me to see a tango show, BsAs Pasion de Tango at Centro Cultural Borges in Galeria Pacifico. The production is the skillful, impeccable work of Jorge Sergiani (a friend of Azucena’s). Since I see so much tango in milongas, I seldom go to shows, but this was a gift. With the vibrant, energetic companionship of Azucena, I’d go most anywhere

And was I ever glad. The show was amazingly good—better than Forever Tango, which I last saw about two years ago in San Fran. The staging, choreography, costumes, lighting, and dancing were all superb, a very tight fit with the music. There was one jaw-dropping number to Pugliese which I’d watch over and over—so I bought the video afterward in the lobby. There was another number, in which the dancers sort of mocked themselves, a jokey rendition of the Nuevo tango steps that fundamentalist tangueros disdain so much. And in so doing they mocked the overly serious tangueros, too. There was a singer whose voice was rich, strong, forceful, and filled the little theater.

The music was live—piano, violin, bass, and bandoneon were excellent. I highly recommend this show, even to tango dancers who often turn up their noses to stage tango, why I don’t know. It’s beautiful to watch and you can absorb so much about body mechanics. I love the aerials, especially when they coincide with the music, as they did tonight on this small stage. I didn’t much care for the show Tanguera. It did not fill the room and was full of small, miniscule moves. But this show was big and expansive, filling the room. The crowd roared.

I couldn’t help but notice the musicians, who, like some of those I would study back in San Francisco after an evening at the symphony, look like ordinary people, even frumpy some of them, who go home to musty apartments, filled with old newspapers, empty cups of coffee, stale smoke. I mean, in comparison to the jazzy, flamboyant dancers, how could they not look frumpy? The bandoneonista was probably in his 60s and I loved watching him sit and work that squeeze box. My mind drifted back to when he was in his twenties, here in Buenos Aires, loving his “axe.” But then the government went bad, the lights went out in his favorite clubs, tango went dark. The last dictatorship, which began its sordid life in 1976, quashed Argentine culture.

On January 17, 1977, some of its henchman nabbed a 28-year-old surgeon who treated the poor in a suburb just outside of Buenos Aires. Her husband, Abel Pedro Madariaga, watched in horror as army officers in civilian garb pushed her into a Ford Falcon and drove off. She was pregnant.

All we know today is that they had her deliver her baby, then murdered her, how we may never know. Let’s only hope against hope, with a bit a mercy, if that is possible. The baby was given to a military family.

That baby today is a 33-year-old man, Francisco Madariaga Quintela. He found out through DNA testing, following years of suspicion who he was (his “adoptive” father was a violent man he never felt part of). He was united with his biological father Abel Pedro Madariaga and they gave a press conference in Buenos Aires, Tuesday, Feb. 23, 2010, smiling big. Abel said he had gone on living only for this moment.

The Madres, grandmothers and mothers who have survived that reign of terror called a Dirty War (Guerra Sucia), have helped some 100 of these kidnapped babies of murdered mothers to reunite with any biological family that is left. Francisco is the 101st one.

So it’s not a stretch to say that the bandoneon moans and cries and has other human-voice qualities. It has seen, heard things, been stashed in an attic, retrieved. Thank heavens, tango survived its darkest period.

Azucena probably didn’t notice the flower vendor, as I did. Yerba mate, flower kiosks that keep hours through the night, are for her as much a fact of life as tango, as the “disappeared” children.

But as I watched him cradle his mate gourd’s sorbete (straw) an inch from his lips, staring off, he became a freeze frame. An image, forever indelible, that is my Argentina, along with Franciso and Abel’s smiling embrace, along with suffering I am incapable of imagining.

Check out this great video Justin DelSesto of WebVision produced.

Live At Salon Canning – Video of Great Dancers – Buenos Aires’ Best

More to come in the next weeks. Enjoy!

My writing workshops are always designed to fit the needs of participants:

I bring to my workshops more than thirty years of experience in publishing as researcher, writer, editor, and instructor in a vast array of subject areas including food, travel, essay, memoir, fitness, health, mind/body/spirit, creative non-fiction, fiction, and more. My work has appeared in numerous publications, including Islands, Country Living, Yoga Journal, North American Review, Vegetarian Times, San Francisco Chronicle, Los Angeles Times, Christian Science Monitor, Washington Post, and the New York Times.

This past year I taught workshops in Buenos Aires (to expats) helping novices get published. My classes are small enough that I tailor my teaching to the individuals—we work as a group with one-on-one time for everyone, and a follow-up consultation, whether days or weeks after the workshop is over.

What participants say about the workshops

I work with novice writers who just want to get their piece or book out and with talented, experienced writers who want to ramp up their publishing opportunities. I am big on encouraging all my students of all levels to look toward publishing, and I help them research their options. I help them grasp the ever-morphing markets in books and all pubs, guiding them through the big divide: between the Net’s “social media” (what is respectable, what is exploitative and not worthy of their prose) and the bastions of journalism.

I teach that artful writing is not enough today, that one needs to know craft. I tell the meek and timid that getting their writing published is not about the ego, although it is always a blissful boost, but about their being heard, validated, having their convictions aired, and advancing the great dialogue of humankind. So, I have them each aim for three markets: easy-to-get-into, mid-level (a challenge), and the Platonic Ideal. Even if they are working on books, I encourage incremental writing of pieces they can publish. This helps them activate what I call their “autonomic writing system”—where writing becomes as automatic/necessary as breathing and you can’t NOT do it.

I guide writers through the book-proposal process for non-fiction. I’ve done work with novelists, guiding them through the chase for an agent, a hugely different process from non-fiction books. I teach that the inner critic is our friend, and tell how to cultivate that friendship. Besides experience and passion, I bring knowledge, fun, and entertainment (twist my arm and I’ll give a tango demo to the class), and I can’t help but, here and there, allude to how my years of Zen meditation has enabled my writing life.

I’m happy to offer special-themed classes, on demand:  say strictly food, travel, mind-body-spirit themes, memoir, even tango. My entrée into publishing was through my mouth—as food critic on a bi-monthly French newspaper in San Francisco. I was food editor at VIA Magazine and have written on food for the New York Times and other “bastions.”

Themes I’ve taught or lectured on:

• How to make your travel memoir writing stand out above the crowds

• How to quit your day job and move to another hemisphere, write now!

• How to activate your “Autonomic Writing System”

• Why the much-maligned Inner Critic is your friend

• How to write captivating features or essays about place with personal perspective

• How to Write a Cookbook/proposal

• How to query editors/agents/publishers.

For more info, contact me through my Web site. Email ocaramia@earthlink.net.

UPDATE, February 19, 2010:

The workshops are going great. Note that I had originally called them “Travel Writing 101″—but I’ve changed the title to just “writing,” because the level of talent is above that of  “101″ and I’ve been tailoring the classes to the individuals’ various desires.

Learn more about my teaching here.

“Camille Cusumano’s 2-day writing workshop infused my writing practice with a much needed boost. In the workshop, I generated new material and breathed life into old work. Camille created and held the space for me to clarify and focus my writing for two days, allowing me to take a big step closer to my writing goals. And the one-on-one coaching sessions alone were priceless. I walked away from the workshop with a targeted list of targeted resources, valuable insights from a seasoned author and editor, a polished story, the best query letter I’ve ever written and a fistful of additional tools and tips for use in my writing practice. Camille’s teaching method is compassionate, supportive and focused. No matter where you are on your path as a writer, you will benefit greatly from taking Camille Cusumano’s writing workshop!” Katherina Audley, Portland, Oregon, January, 2010:

“Camille is an inspiring teacher, coach and cheerleader. I walked home after her 2-day writing workshop convinced that not only I can, but must write my story—maybe more than one.”
Peter Esser, Ph.D., Buenos Aires, January 2010

I have done my share of writing classes and workshops over the years and, most recently, started one-on-one consultations with Camille which have proven to be HUGELY beneficial. Camille treads tenderly on my art-side of writing, always encouraging and highlighting the good; then she fearlessly takes a surgeon’s scalpel to the craft-side of the writing and demonstrates and explains in great detail how to make the piece stronger and more compelling. At the end of the session, I am left with a polished piece of writing that is true to my story, but one that I also love reading again Life circumstance now puts us in different parts of the world, but thanks to internet and Skype, our consultations continue! I recommend Camille’s coaching/editing services highly.

Oga Cho, world citizen, March 2010

Camille’s 2-day workshop was exactly what I needed! I’ve been writing alone and in writing groups for years but have never felt any of my work was finished and ready to submit. Camille helped me get there. Her knowledge of the market, guidance in approaching editors and getting published, and her patient and focused editing of my work helped me rewrite with a clearer focus and feel confident that it’s ready. I’ve written my first query letter, and I’m excited about working on my many other pieces with the same vigor. I came away with a much better understanding of how publishing works, and a much greater confidence in my ability. Thank you, Camille!

Angela McCallum, Buenos Aires, http://santelmoloft.com

If you can write, there’s a reader waiting to read what you have to say. Why not start publishing your prose? The time has never been more auspicious—and I’ll tell you why. If you are coming to Buenos Aires for your first time, be prepared to find inspiration daily in this lively Latin city and its culture, full of surprises.

If you’ve already been here, you know there is so much to write home about.

In these two-day workshops we’ll work on one-two-three simple goals:

1. Crafting and streamlining a creative, publishable travel story.

2. Listing the many outlets and publications, both hard copy and online, where you can send your work for serious consideration.

3. Getting your work sent out now.

• The workshops will be given in the beautiful Recoleta neighborhood of Buenos Aires, Argentina, near easy public transportation, hotels, restaurants, and great shopping. (It’s a $30 taxi ride from Ezeiza Int’l Airport.)

• These workshops will be fun, no-pressure, and full of inspiration. Each one is limited to no more than eight participants.

• Each workshop lasts two full (eight-hour) days, 10 a.m. to 6 p.m. A typical Argentine lunch (for omnivores and herbivores) is included in the price, along with free beverages throughout the day.

• The workshops are given by me, Camille Cusumano, journalist, book author, and editor with 30 years in publishing.

February is summer’s end in Argentina and the living is easy and exciting. March is like September in the eastern United States – still warm and pleasant.

10 percent discount for members of  Bay Area Travel Writers

Price per workshop:

$195 (for two eight-hour days of instruction)

Choose from any of three sessions:

February 11–12, 2010

March 9–10, 2010

March 17–18, 2010

Extra, at no further charge: Each participant is entitled to a private follow-up consultation on your progress, in person, by phone, or email.

Reserve below, with a $50 deposit, refundable up to a week before workshop starts. Balance due a week before workshop starts. Email me with any questions and tell me a little about yourself: ocaramia@earthlink.net or ocaramia@mac.com.

Workshops by Dates

February 11-12 $195.00 March 9-10 $195.00 March 17-18 $195.00