Category Archives: women writers

Thank You Dames!

Thank you to all the fabulous women who joined us June 29th for our event on Women’s Expression of Sex and Sexuality.  The night included scintillating conversation and rousing performances by the devine Khani Jo Zulu Belly Dancer, word wizard and performance artist Flint, sizzling songstress Brie Feingold-Africa  and the beautiful burlesque dancer Penny Starr Jr.  The room was certainly steamy by the end of the evening!

Join us August 10th for our next show at The Vanguard.  Keep checking in as we plan our next topic for captivating conversation and provocative performances.



sexy women writers

Utah Savage = courage. A mind that races 50 miles per hour, a refusal to conform, and a womb like hunger for more, more, more, whatever that more means in any given moment. Peggy isn’t quintessential anything.  Forego compartmentalizing this dame to fit into a category that works best for you, as far as definitions go. You’ll miss the subtext of her identity – the opportunity to dwell inside her head, a sacred, frenetic space, by way of each post on Utah Savage.


What endears me to Peggy and her work the most is that she bleeds gallons of subtext. A gifted, soulful writer infused with the kind of honesty most of us dance around, or skip over. Ready or not, she’s going to spill it. I regard this is a tremendous gift. Read her once, and you’ll be hooked for life.


It is with great pleasure, I present a dame I adore, Utah Savage!


What’s my name? I have so many names I hardly know where to begin. For instance, my mother was married twice and her first husband was my biological father, so I had one last name as a small child, but when my mother remarried I was adopted and had another last name. I go with the second name because it’s the name on my birth certificate. That name’s Pendleton. My mother gave me her first name–Margaret. But neither of us was actually called Margaret. She went by Maggy, and since that name was taken I was called Peggy. My middle name is Evan. I always planned to change my name to Evan Kinghorn Savage, using my middle name, and two other family names. But somehow I never got around to doing it legally. I was also going to get a tattoo on my ass and learn to ride a Harley Fat Boy by the time I was fifty. This reinvention of myself as Evan Kinghorn Savage, wild old woman, has yet to take place but every moment comes with amazing possibility.

Then there are all the married names I’ve had. For a brief while my last name was Franks, then McCormick, and my last married name was Blackmon.

I was a bit of a professional student. I attended three universities (the first as an early admissions student, skipping my senior year of high school) but I never had the goal of credentials. I had the goal of learning. I liked the process, the great grades and praise, but didn’t particularly care about the degrees. There were too many academics in the family to think this was a good profession for me. I even married an academic.

I was through marrying by the time I was thirty. I used the “three strikes and you’re out” method for making this decision. I left the third husband (an alcoholic writer condemned to correct and encourage other writers, but not to write) and tossed this off as I was heading out the door, “Whoever wants a divorce first has to pay for it.,” That meant when he got ready to remarry (as I knew he would) he’d be happy to pay for the divorce since his remarriage would come with a wife to cook for him. I took nothing with me when I left, and asked for only one thing. I wanted my maiden name back. So I started using my maiden name without carefully reading the divorce decree. My driver’s license has one name, but my social security card still has me as… well, someone else. Are you confused yet? I know I am.

My blog pseudonym was a snap decision made at the insistence of young friends visiting from New York who decided I must blog. I didn’t know what blogging meant, but they set up the account for me and only asked a couple of questions. The first question was “What should we call your blog?” And out of my mouth flew the words, “Utah Savage.” I think of it as a description more than a name, though there is that maternal family last name. But actually it’s alienation from the place I live, as much as it is a family name. Do we see a pattern emerging here? Alienation from the place I find myself has twice determined the name I use.  And I do believe that everything is political, so politics is in even the most personal choices we make.

Why did my young friends decide I must blog? I think it was that I have been writing for thirty years with nothing to show for it but mountains of paper: several versions of a novel, several essays or rants, whichever you prefer, and the odd poem here and there. I used my computer as a word processor. I was ignorant of the internet and hampered by my own disinclination to use the new technology. The only time my computer had been used as anything other than a typewriter was when my ex lover was paying me a visit. He used my computer to surf porn sites. This particular use of my computer turned me off to the internet even more. It also infected my last computer with a number of worms and viruses as if all that porn had given it a fatal STD. Who’d have ever guessed I’d end up with seven blogs?

What does being a woman mean to me? This is not a simple question to answer. It is politics that have determined my early experience of being a woman. It is the generation I was born into and the place I came from that sent me on my particular trajectory as a female to grow up in a 1950’s and early ’60’s man’s world. Patriarchy was the norm when I was born, at the end of WWII, no matter where you lived. And my mother’s family came out of the “Indian reservation” in Oklahoma to settle in West Texas. They were fleeing the “shame” of their Native American ancestry.  My mother married a man who wanted to travel when he got home from the war.  He was older, handsome, and would get her out of Texas. The fact that he came into the marriage with three sons was something I don’t believe she’d thought out. As it turned out she hated being a mother. This hatred was cemented when she had me, her one and only baby.   So when I grew up, motherhood was a thing to be avoided.

I have a lifetime of stories of conflict and flight that are fairly universal stories of women. I had that one pregnancy and that one abortion, the three marriages.  I’m always in therapy so the obsessive examination of the path that led me here is part of makes me who I am, and not least of the things that led me here is my bipolar disorder. Old and crazy–that’s how I see myself now. But I’m very successful for a bipolar woman with a family life that would have driven anyone mad. Suicide is a leading cause of death for most of us.  We do not, for the most part, live into our forties. I’ve beat the odds, so it’s all bonus time from here on out. I’m making the most of it.  And telling all my secrets.

I reinvent myself (at least in my mind and for a moment) almost every day.

If you think I’m wrong about everything being political, let’s talk Barbie dolls.


Doreeen Orion, Queen of the Road

Doreeen Orion, Queen of the Road

Today is a very special day for 3D-WAC. We sent out eVites to our very first show on May 11th, click here for details. And, our Authentic Expressionist today happens to be from one of my Jewousins, Doreen Orion, Author of Queen of the Road, Blogger of “What do you want from me?!Essayist/Humorist, Psychiatrist, and, and, and the most Jewable Queen on the throne.


I read Doreen’s book Queen of the Road, which is kind of how we got to know each other. Wait – first came blogdating, then came the bookcourting and now, I believe we’re an official e-family. Anywhoodle, while feasting on QOTR, her prose fell onto the floor more times than I can count. I was all twisted up in tears and fits of laughter. She is that funny, that clever and that brilliant, as you will see when you scroll down…


Please welcome, Dame, sorry, Queen Doreen Orion. Why, yes, I am crazy about my Queenie!


Tell me about you: Your name, pseudonym, where you’re from and what your read is about?


I’m Doreen Orion, but you may call me Queen Doreen. Just don’t touch me.


I wasn’t always royal, despite my husband’s fondness for referring to me a as Princess from the Island of Long. However, a few years ago, I did accept a coronation of sorts to Queen of the Long Narrow Aisle when he suddenly announced his desire to “chuck it all” and live in a converted bus for a year. Of course I demanded to know, “Why can’t you be like a normal husband in a midlife crisis and have an affair or buy a Corvette?” (So, OK. Maybe I was a bit princess-y. What do you want from me?) We’re both psychiatrists, but he’s obviously a much better shrink, as my travel memoir, QUEEN OF THE ROAD : The True Tale of 47 States, 22,000 Miles, 200 Shoes, 2 Cats, 1 Poodle, a Husband and a Bus with a Will of Its Own was published last summer by Broadway Books, an imprint of Random House. (Did I mention it’s already into 6th printing?) I also blog about our adventures (along with sundry medicinal musings) as well as, unfortunately, tweet.


What does being a woman mean to you?


Honestly, it’s not something I really think about. True, in general, I try not to think too much.  In fact, that’s why, despite living in Boulder, Colorado (whose motto is “Nestled Between the Mountains and Reality”), I refuse to do yoga, even though it’s required by City Charter. Really, what is the point in putting that much effort into doing something just to think about nothing, when I’m already so adept at thinking about nothing without making any effort at all?


So, rather than going on and on avoiding a question I have no answer for, I’ll put an end to this now, by resorting to a patented shrink-tactic : What does being a woman mean to you?


Have you, are you, or will you reinvent yourself and, of course, what does reinventing yourself mean to you?


Prior to leaving on the “bus thing,” the only reinvention I anticipated caused me to ensure my passenger seat was double-wide, both to accommodate two cats on my lap, but also the bus butt I planned to grow, thus proving to my husband that living one’s dreams can have its nightmarish aspects.


I really hadn’t expected our travels to reinvent me in any other way (nor did I think I needed to be reinvented), but they were so life-changing, that upon our return, I was the one who suggested instead of selling the bus, we fix up the house and sell it instead. (You do realize when I say, “we,” I hardly mean the Royal We, right? Ie my husband is doing all the actual work.)


Prior to the bus thing, my life was comfortable and I was quite content – that’s why I didn’t want to go in the first place. But now, looking back, I realize there was a certain lack of spark. When you’re young and just starting out, there’s the constant stimulation of school or learning a new job. Then, once you get to where you want to be in life, and you finally have a chance to breathe, it’s not uncommon to wonder, “Is this all there is? Is this what I worked so hard for?” Having a mobile life with all its adventures and misadventures (fire, armed robbery, finding ourselves in a nudist RV park, to name just a few), was challenging and stimulating in a way I hadn’t experienced for years.


The bus thing was also the first time in my life I did something this unselfish, ie “give up” a year of my life, just because someone I love said he needed me to. But, spending 24/7 in 340 square feet with my husband, a 60 lb. dog and two cats who hated each other, we both found we were happier than we’d ever been. People often say that spending time with those they love is the most important thing to them, but they don’t always live that way. I know my husband and I were guilty of that, as well – spending more time and energy supporting a lifestyle than each other.


That’s why I dedicate my book to anyone searching for his or her inner bus. I hope our tale of living our dreams and refusing to settle inspires others to do the same. Now, as a reinvented Royal, I’m looking forward to our mobile and downsized life. (Please note: I decided to downsize before it became popular. Such a trendsetter.)



Today is a very special day, it is one of our dames birthday’s, Elizabeth, and it is a milestone — she is 60 years young.

You might have read Elizabeth’s Authentic Expression.

Today, she wrote a post in celebration of her birthday, true to form, it is a gift to us, her readers and friends.

Here’s a snippet: “G’won now. Get out there and live your life, knowing that today, this day, you are creating memories, so choose to make them good ones. No matter what else you might lose or have taken from you, no one can steal your memories.”  To read the rest of Elizabeth’s delish post, click on over to Telling Secrets.

Elizabeth, we wish you a happy, healthy, perfect birthday. We are celebrating with you in spirit. We are grateful that you are seared into our memories.



Did you miss Leah Jones Authentic Expression?