Writer. Connector. Sewist. Amateur cat wrangler. Pop culture addict.
"It's not a lie, it's the gift of fiction." - David Mamet, State and Main
If I keep a green bough in my heart, the singing bird will come. - Chinese proverb
The Three C's of Corinne
My biography in three parts.
Corinne's flash fiction piece "The Last Drop" received First Prize in the 2012 California Writers Club of Sacramento Short Short Fiction Contest. Her short story "What the Beautiful Girls Do" was published by In the Snake in March 2012. Corinne is currently seeking representation for her first novel, The Girl from Galax.
Corinne's poetry has been published in several anthologies, including Late Peaches, Soul of the Narrator IV, The Inker's House and Sacramento Voices.
In search of a non-writing-centric creative outlet, Corinne took up sewing in early 2015. With the help of her late mother's trusty 60s-era Elna Super sewing machine, Corinne creates self-drafted bags, pouches, home decor and accessories.
In 2011 Corinne founded ExploreSacto. Through sharing information via social media channels, ExploreSacto encourages Northern California residents and visitors to explore all the greater Sacramento area has to offer in food, entertainment, shopping, home and business services, volunteerism and more.
Corinne volunteers with and supports the following organizations:
Born in the Washington D.C. suburbs, Corinne graduated with honors from Takoma Academy and received a B.A. in English and Communications from George Washington University. Her early career in the D.C. area focused on health communications, with an emphasis in call center training and management. Clients included the U.S. Department of Health & Human Services, the National Institutes of Health and the Food & Drug Administration.
Corinne moved to Southern California in the spring of 2000, working first as an editorial assistant for consumer magazines at PRIMEDIA and later as an associate editor for B2B magazines at Canon Communications. In 2008, she transitioned into public relations, representing several Web 2.0 clients at The Bohle Company. Her freelance career took off in 2009, working with clients on marketing and PR campaigns, social media management, and content writing.
Corinne relocated to Sacramento in 2010, where she writes for Sacramento Magazine and other publications on topics such as technology, health and medicine, personality profiles, and regional travel/businesses/events. She also provides marketing, social media, and communications support to individuals, nonprofit organizations, private industry, and small businesses. She is a frequent speaker at writers' groups on website building, social media, and online platform development.
Corinne's areas of expertise include:
Visit her business website at CorinneLitchfieldMedia.com.
"Tell Me a Story"
I was riding the bus home from school when Toussaint Hammie, the class clown and all-around pain in the ass, said to me, “Tell me a story, Corry.” At the age of thirteen I was used to hearing my nickname used as the butt of various jokes. But Toussaint’s alliteration was mildly annoying – and, in truth, quite accurate. Because ever since I could talk, I have been telling stories.
An early reader, I would read aloud to my younger friends, asking “Do you want that regular, or with expression?” I read anything with words on it. And when I grew tired of reading others’ stories, I started making up my own. I still remember the day I told an adult about the novel I was writing. “I’ve finished the prologue, and I’m almost done with Chapter 1,” I said, and as soon as the words left my mouth I noticed the woman was smiling at me the same way my grandmother would when she thought I was being particularly precocious. I was humiliated. I took my writing very seriously, but this woman’s response suggested to me that no one else ever would. A kid who saw herself as a writer was difficult to validate, much less manage. As I grew up, I took on different roles that lead to more financially viable career choices, but I never stopped telling stories, even if it was only to myself.
In 2009 my mother died, and my self-imposed burden to be the child with the steady job and good benefits package was lifted. What was left was the desire to create. Attending a writers’ workshop in the fall of 2010 was a magical experience: for the first time, I felt high on words and ideas. The creative energy was palpable, pulsating, and some of it must have stuck to the bottom of my shoe because since then I have been writing more than ever.
I am inspired by everything. Big cities and small towns. The mystical and the mundane. Lines from books, movies, and television shows. Song lyrics, poems, and news articles. A story overheard accidentally on purpose. Friends’ Facebook status updates and tweets written by celebrities. Oceans and rivers and bottles of Evian. Drunken conversations at two a.m. with lovers and strangers. I cannot predict when inspiration will strike, but I know it is out there, just waiting for me, the same way that all these characters lingering in notebooks and computer files stand around, waiting for their turn to jump onto the page and become as real as ink and paper will allow.
Someone once challenged me to write a six-word autobiography. I came up with: I believe in a magical universe. That belief is what propels me forward, not only as a writer, but as a human being. Because I don’t ever want to live in a world where there isn’t a possibility that a wardrobe will offer passage to a distant land, or a rabbit hole will take me to Wonderland. If I write my own imaginings, create my own worlds, I am doing my part to ensure the existence of other creations. If I encourage others to share their stories, again, I’m contributing to the creative cause. And when a crisis of creativity has me thinking my pen won’t glean my teeming brain, as Keats once wrote, or that I need to find a career much more financially lucrative, I only need to slow my mind and listen to that tiny voice that tells me, every minute of every hour, “Just keep writing.”
I am finally earning a living as a writer and every day I strive to overcome that fear of not being taken seriously. What I am finding is that as I embrace the writing life more and more, how I am perceived by others becomes less important. But in those moments when I am craving recognition as a writer and storyteller, I only need to remember Toussaint’s request to be told a story, and I have all the validation I need.