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Marta Szabo's Blog

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Jun.19.2010
I am 53 years old, am a writer, have a husband who loves me and whom I love, a home and animals -- so I've come to a pretty good place all things considered. But I spent a good 20 years in a couple of cults, had anorexia, spent 5 years in a relationship that kept me on a short leash. I write memoir...
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Jun.18.2010
Dear RR friends, It would be great to meet you in person. If you're in town on Sunday, June 20, please stop by the historically literary KGB bar at 7pm where a few of us will entertain you with stories and more. I will be read a recent memoir concoction, and I will not bore you. 85 E. 4th Street,...
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Jun.13.2010
  I packed to move into Natvar’s school. It didn’t take long. I threw out every letter Geoffrey had ever sent me, from the very first one declaring his love for me, and put a few boxes of books in storage with my mother. My parents and youngest sister, Agnes, had found a small cottage to rent...
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Jun.10.2010
yesterday i got a postcard from my sister. i recognized her handwriting right away and stopped short. we have not been in touch for years. she doesn't like what i write about. her card was asking if there is anything from my father's apartment that i will want when he dies. today is his birthday....
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Jun.08.2010
The Memoir Festival will be held July 16-18 at Omega Institute in Rhinebeck, NY – and if you have a passion for memoir, this is the place to be! Hosted by Fred Poole and Marta Szabo of Authentic Writing, the weekend will feature: Malachy and Alphie McCourt, Nick Flynn (The Ticking Is The Bomb and...
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Jun.08.2010
I felt different after the chant, in the days following. Maybe, I thought, maybe I could look into all this guru stuff more closely. Maybe this is what has been missing. Maybe I have been wrong about what a guru is. I had been feeling like I’d been wrong about a lot of things for awhile. Peeling...
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May.31.2010
In front of Natvar on the floor was a shiny wooden rectangular box with a short keyboard – black and white keys like a small piano. On the other side of the masking-tape aisle sat Mark cross legged in front of an oblong drum, the kind with two circles of stretched skin on either side and an oval of...
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May.27.2010
It was hot and it was Lincoln, Nebraska. I’d been hitchhiking from British Columbia – sixteen years old – partially because I had lost the Greyhound bus pass my parents had purchased, but mostly because I wanted to hitchhike the way any self-respecting hippy did. I wanted to find the Merry...
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May.25.2010
The latest chapter from the memoir I am writing online at http://experiments-in-memoir.blogspot.com, a memoir with no title yet...   Though he had turned me down up in Maine, within a few weeks of my return to the city Bill and Laura had broken up as I'd been so confident they would, and Bill...
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May.19.2010
I am 10 years old and attending a convent boarding school in Dorset, England in the mid-sixties. I am an American girl, one of two or three in a world of about 250 uniformed girls ages 8-18 and 22 black-and-white-sheathed nuns ages 25ish-100ish. We live in what was once someone’s manor home – the...
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