There was a space I used to feel safe. Everyone should have such a space.

Today, when fear grips me and I need a balance bar to keep from slipping out of my life, I remember those mornings when I felt safe. Ten, fifteen, twenty-five years ago…these are some of my first memories. My bed is warm and cozy, but I am not sleeping. Sometime just hours after falling asleep I am awake again and all night long I drift in and out of this semi-conscious state. It is not tiring nor is it frustrating; I relish the feeling of being snug and in bed. I don’t want to fall asleep and miss it. I want to embrace it, to realize it and hold its hand. I want to spend all night drowsy and relaxed, awake in my sleepy space.--read more >>

December 11-17, 2008

Ariel Gore will be hosting a writing workshop in Oaxaca, Mexico this winter! The class size is super-limited, so click to www.arielgore.com and sign up early if you're coming...

As the light of the north wanes this winter, spend a week writing and soaking up inspiration in the sunshine of southern Mexico.

My mom says I was born tense. Tense and intense. When she tells the story of how I was born, amidst the drama and gesticulation, I feel a little sad to know that I am this child she speaks of. When she talks about the way she could hear me screaming day and night in the nursery just a few doors down, and of her helplessness in coming to my rescue, I feel the aftermath both of her helplessness and of my own. It's a feeling I can't seem to shake.--read more >>

Editor's note: China Martens is the author of The Future Generation: Zine-book for Subculture Parents, Kids, Friends & Others (Atomic Book Company, March 2007). Jessica Mills is the author of My Mother Wears Combat Boots (AK PRESS, November 2007). They're both great books, go check them out!

Jessica Mills is a partnered mother of two children, ages 7 and 1. She is also an activist, artist, a touring musician (who plays saxophone with Citizen Fish), and a first time book author. I've been reading her column of the same name in Maximumrocknroll (MRR) for years. We've traded zines, emails, and crossed virtual paths as "mama-writers" (although not in person yet, but will soon!). In 2007, both of us came out with our first books on independent, small presses.

I called her on the phone to chat about the process of becoming a first time author. We come from the same background (zines, mutual aid and DIY community) and so it was really cool to talk with her; after we had gotten our book deals, we also shared the overwhelming fear at a certain point that we were not up to this opportunity. In Jessica's case, she told herself "don't be a foolish loser – this is your dream, take it." For me, I leaned on the support of writer-mama and radical-librarian friends, which helped me through the terror of the process of writing a book, which had always been my dream as well. We have our differences, too: I'm a single mother and she isn't; "Daddy 'Nesto," as their two daughters call him, gave Jessica a lot of support and encouragement for which she is very thankful. Also, instead of having an 18-year-old daughter, like I had, who encouraged me and left me alone to work on my book, Jessica had to write this book with a new baby! --read more >>

They are down. I tiptoe past their doors barely breathing, listening for a sound. Please save your applause, my two boys (3 months old and 2 years old) are sound asleep AND at the same time, no less. With extra bounce, called glee, relief, freedom call it what you like, I fly down the stairs open the front door and place my note on the doorbell. "Please do not ring or knock, babies sleeping, thanks!" Really it says, you touch that f*&%$!g door or bell and I will mow you down. Do not disturb the sacred naptime. Don't you dare.

The high sets in and I am giddy with options, I could call my best friend, email, pay bills, spend an hour on the phone with the health insurance representative, work out on the Stairmaster, do sit ups, drink gallons of coffee and eat cookies, read, write, sleep, sit on the couch and stare out the window, laundry, watch DVDs, cry, pluck my eyebrows, paint my toes, pumice down the calluses on the bottom of my feet, clean every messy, disorganized drawer, shelf, and closet in my house that grates on my nerves, I could paint walls, caulk around the sink, and sweep the floor. I could clean toilets with a vengeance! I could do any of these things, but I don't. I plug my headset into my ears and turn up the iPod, really loud, so loud I can feel KT Tunstall pulsing in my chest and am assured I am killing the eardrums and bringing early on set of senior citizen deafness. My husband would say it's too late. "Huh, what did you say, honey?" " I feel like walking the world, you can tell she is a beautiful girl, beautiful girl…" "Suddenly I see, this is what I want to be, suddenly I see, suddenly I see, why the hell this means so much to me..." --read more >>

"You'll never guess what Jess' dad offered me." Through the phone, I heard the freeway rushing past Tracie's open car window, warbling the sound of her voice.

"What?" I asked, sitting on the edge of our bed, short of breath from rushing my seven-and-a-half-months pregnant self down the hall to answer the call.

"Tickets to the Prince concert."

"What?! No F-ing way."

My wife, Tracie, works with children with autism. Occasionally the grateful parents of one of her clients will bestow upon her an unexpected gift. Well, this time her client Jess had scored an appointment with an impossible-to-see specialist in Chicago on the same day that his parents had tickets to see Prince in Oakland. The little boy's dad called to see if Tracie would be interested in the tickets.--read more >>

After 15 years, the print version of Hip Mama is getting a new editor!

The Spring '08 issue--the one I'm working on right now--is the last issue of print zine the Hip Mama I'll edit. I plan to stay on as Yo Mama & a consulting editor. --read more >>