HER CAREER + writing

BIRTHING A BOOK... OH, THE LABOR!

BY JAN KURTZ | SUBMITTED PHOTOS BY JAN KURTZ

Writing a book is like being pregnant without a due date. It is like driving in thick fog, squinting through the low beams searching for the white line, hoping to stay on track. It is an act of faith – a journey not to be tread alone. I was so naïve.

I thought writing was about sitting in a peaceful space, laptop propped on my out-stretched legs, Matcha Maker steaming in my tea cup, maybe candles flickering and classical music surround sound setting the mood. Words would flow out of my fingertips, pir ouetting over the white expanse of my page. Maybe I could even hop e for what some authors claim they have, an ethereal entity, complete with name and personality, channeling ancient wisdom ripe for publication.

Current wisdom for writers includes getting up early while the household sleeps. Write several thousand words per day without stopping to edit – thus avoiding the swirling abyss of doubt and recriminations. Attend writing seminars. Join a writing group. Read best sellers.

Of these I was doing one. I belonged to a group – Homer’s Writing Group (named after Donna’s dog, not the author of the “Iliad”). We met monthly. One fateful afternoon I read my essay about a phone call that took me from my daily doings to translate in two emergency rooms for a farmworker of Zapotec descent who had been kicked in the head by the cow she was milking.

“How do you get into these situations?” Maggie asked.

“Spanish,” I replied without hesitation.

“You should write your Spanish stories,” she continued, “put them in a book.”

Thus I began the habit of rising at 5:30 a.m. in the winter dark and later, spring dawns. In these wee hours, the stories of Central American refugees, Mayan Indians seeking medical treatment, inter national exchange students trying to navigate our school system and pr om culture filled my word documents. I figured I’d just remember and write. No research. It was my life, after all.

Jan and her Mexican maid, Beda, on their balcony in Saltillo.

Wrong. Almost immediately, I was second guessing my memories. I called Mom.

“Remember our trip to Saltillo in 1969?” I began. She not only recalled her side of the story, but had her travel journal, complete with maps, postcards and continuing education credits. With that impetus, I dusted off my photo albums, found boxes of old letters, reread my journals and watched vintage travel video footage to refresh my so-called facts. Ah, memory – that fluid personal perspective of nebulous data.

Back in my writing group, discussion on memories took two roads. “They are your memories, so that is valid enough,” was one belief. “However, if memories include other people that can identify themselves, verification would be good. Have them read the section, corroborate and perhaps, get their permission,” was another thought.

Raul and Nico get Jan to the Monterrey airport for a trip home, 1970.

More work? Months passed. My progress was “interrupted” by summer days at the cabin, (where, in my defense, I did write), forays to Mexico and Greece, (had to get away), not to mention eating and sleeping! Slowly, essays turned into chapters, collected photos were digitized and I attended a library seminar on publishing.

There I first heard about “Alpha” and “Beta” readers, people who would be honored to peruse manuscripts, gratis. Oh, really? This seemed a stretch. Our gathering of mostly unpublished writers took note, but were doubtful.

Turned out to be true. Donna, colleague, friend and owner of the aforementioned dog, offered to sit with me, reading pages aloud with her pencil poised. Every time I thought I had nailed it, she would lean forward and gently ask, “What exactly did you mean by that?” Other times, she straight out looked at me, crossed her arms, pushed her chair back and stated, “This part is a rant. Lose it!”

Jan forming a “socially discouraged” friendship with her maid, Beda.

Whenever I thought it was time to seek a publisher, her knowledge of the process cautioned me to take baby steps. I wrote a grant, googled publishers, researched book distribution and read author webpages. For consolation and support, I called Mom, lifelong president of my fan club.

“Are you done yet?” she again asks hopefully.

“ No.”

“What’s next?”

“Wish I knew.”

“Well, have you accomplished something today?”

“ Accomplished is such a heavily laden word, Mom,” I whine.

“ OK, then. How is the ‘journey’ going?”

Jan Kurtz worked tirelessly to write her book “Northern Shores Southern Borders,” finding out it wasn’t as simple as being in a comfy spot with a laptop and a cup of tea.

The manuscript finally came together with Chip and Jean Borkenhagen’s caring expertise and final edit by life long friend, Lois Hollingsworth. This journey through Five Wings Grants, editors, my 1968 Mexican friends, my college Spanish professor, and most recently, rediscovering Jennie, a Spain buddy from 40 years ago! What a joy!

Finally, April 9, my book baby was born. ‘Northern Shores – Southern Borders: Revelations of a Bilingual Life,’ 1 pound, 6 x 9 inches.

But, there were complications. COVID-19. With a face mask and plastic gloves, I opened the “baby’s” box and gingerly lifted up the first copy, wiped it down with a Clorox sheet and wondered if it needed to be “incubated” in the garage for three days.

Mom and I couldn’t wait. We carefully opened the pages and read the stories of you. Yes, you. The exchange student host families, Brainerd peacemakers, Guatemalan medical mission volunteers, festival salsa dancers, Presbyterian sister church programs, Quakers, Congregational activists, Concordia Language campers … Your stories woven together by a common thread of language and culture, “right here in river city.”

Adorned in masks, Jan Kurtz and her mom, Phyllis, gently cradle Jan’s book, “Northern Shores Southern Borders, a dream come true for them both.

The birthing pains are mostly forgotten, but the labor continues. With all planned “Baby Book Signing” showers indefinitely postponed, this story is not over. Stay tuned. In lieu of a “baby gift,” order your copy online at Central Lakes College bookstore, clcbookstore.com to support the “baby’s” college with the Kurtz-Poland Spanish and Latin American Cultures Scholarship fund. Support local language, culture students and events.

Jan’s roots are in the north country, but Spanish continues to add extra dimensions to her life’s journey. Since retiring from teaching Spanish, her travels cycle between family, the Wisconsin cabin and the occasional foray across borders. She is writing a book about the surprising places and unexpected adventures opened to her by virtue of speaking Spanish. You can find her writings at: www.janetkurtz.com.