Andrea Askowitz

Author & Teacher

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About Andrea

Photo by Stephanie Howard

Hi! Thank you for coming to my website.

I’m a writer who likes to tell stories out loud. I love writing because writing helps me figure out how I think and why I do the shit I do. I love telling stories to other people because in those moments, I feel connected.   
 
My work has appeared or aired in venues including The New York TimesSalonThe RumpusHuffington PostGlamourAEONThe WriterManifest-StationMutha, Washington Post, CNN, NPR, PBS, and the anthologies, Looking QueerAll that Glitters, and forthcoming, Stained: An Anthology of Writing About Menstruation.
 
I’m the author of the memoir My Miserable, Lonely, Lesbian Pregnancy and the Editor of Badass: True Stories, The Double Album.
 
In 2006, I created Lip Service, true stories out loud. Four times a year, eight people told a story on our stage. There is a hunger for true stories and our little show that started at Books & Books in Miami, grew to fill a 600-seat theater and earned a Knight Foundation Arts Challenge Award. After nine years, I retired from Lip Service, which is now produced by the Miami Book Fair.
 
I’m now Executive Producer and Host of the podcast Writing Class Radio. We air true, personal stories and give tips on how to write stories. We started in 2015 and will soon reach one million downloads.
I write, teach writing, and produce a podcast about writing. I also spend a lot of time riding my bike. Joyce Maynard, one of my favorite writers and teachers, says physical activities, like knitting or chopping wood, get your mind to work while you’re not paying attention. So, I bike almost every day. Someone might say I’m having fun, but I’m actually working.
 

I’ve just finished my second memoir currently titled Attention Whore, or maybe No One Knows I’m Famous. It’s a love story about a woman whose need for attention threatens to ruin her life. I’m currently between agents, so if you’re an agent, please call.

I live with my wife, Victoria, and kids: Tashi, Sebastian, Zeus, and Octavia.

That’s some of my story. Thank you for reading.

Love,
Andrea

I founded Lip Service, which I produced for 9 years every quarter to audiences 600 people strong. 9 years. 40 shows. 300 stories. 2,600 story submissions. Lip Service is a John S. and James L. Knight Foundation Award-winning show. In October 2016, I left Lip Service in the hands of the Miami Book Fair.

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“OWNING MY SHIT” (IN SWAMP APE REVIEW)

It took two years and 130 houses to find the one. It was my first house and I considered my options carefully. I didn’t rush in. Instead, I rushed to the bathroom. / It was always the kitchen that made my stomach seize. This one was the same as all the others:  an industrial-sized refrigerator, dark brown cabinetry, marble countertops, and an island as big as Manhattan. / “This is a spectacular renovation,” my wife, Victoria, said. She was right. The kitchen was straight out of Better Homes and Gardens. The bathroom was pristine and all beige. It had Grohe fixtures (no American Standard). There was a candle burning because certain smells sell houses; they evoke an image of home. But that candle had nothing on me.

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“I WANT A HUSBAND AND A WIFE” (IN TOGETHER MAGAZINE)

The downstairs toilet clogged. I tried to flush it, but then all the water came up. Maybe it overflowed, I don’t know. I ran. / When Victoria got home from work, I asked her to plunge it. She said she would. Later that night, while turning off the light, I asked, “Did you fix the toilet?” She forgot. / I went to bed thinking: I need a husband.

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“SO I EXAGGERATE A LITTLE — AM I WRONG TO JAZZ UP MY STORIES?” (IN AEON)

Before 8 November 2016, I thought it was okay to stretch the truth in storytelling, especially if you were trying to be funny. Now, I’m not sure. / TrueStory was my Match.com handle. I don’t remember Victoria’s handle; what I remember is her picture. She’s wearing drag-queen quantities of makeup: gold swathes across her eyelids, blush from cheekbone to temple, and fuck-me red lipstick. She’s leaning forward, her white, fitted shirt is unbuttoned way down, and she’s squeezing her boobs together with her arms to exaggerate her cleavage. She looks like a hoochie mama.

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“JUSTAMOTHERPHOBIA” (IN BRAIN, CHILD)

I’m going on two hours in the waiting room at the pediatrician’s office when I send my wife an angry text, “Waiting for the pediatrician is NOT what I envisioned for my life.”

Victoria is at work. She’s a financial advisor at a prominent firm. She texts me back, “You are the most beautiful and sexy mommy.” Feels good for a second. Then I think: That’s like saying, “You look hot doing the dishes.”

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“WHEN WE TRIED TANTRIC SEX” (IN SALON)

Besides the usual things that get in the way of good sex — kids and busy lives — Victoria and I also have to worry about lesbian bed death. / Lesbian bed death is a common affliction caused by the lack of testosterone in lesbian relationships. Some people think homosexuality is the gateway drug to freaky sex. Like once you’ve tried same-sex sex, you’ll try anything and often. But for most lesbians I know, that’s not true. We’re pretty conventional. Even less sexual than straight people, probably, because when there’s no man forcing sex — no one’s forcing sex.

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Into Me See

My story “Into Me See” is in Salon.com.  I took Victoria to a tantric sex retreat.  It was a preventative measure.  Click here to read.

Lip Service/Under the Sun was Like a Rock Concert

Last Saturday, Lip Service collaborated with WLRN’s Under the Sun and our show was like a rock concert.  Or like the musical Hair.  We got a standing ovation!  I thought the audience might rush the stage like they do at the end of Hair.  It was so much fun.

Here’s my story.

 

 

This story is about what I learned from Victoria, but I also want to say that Victoria has learned a lot from me. Three weeks ago, we were at a family gathering.  All of Victoria’s relatives were there and Victoria introduced me to all her old-lady relatives, to everyone, including a priest as her pareja. Pareja means spouse.  Victoria’s brother overheard her introduce me to the priest, pulled Victoria aside and said, “Why do you have to flaunt your sexuality?”

 

Victoria said, “She is my spouse.  Wouldn’t you introduce your spouse as your spouse?”

 

You can hear all the stories on our youtube site:  http://www.youtube.com/lipservicestories and go to Under the Sun to read stories, to learn more about the storytellers, and to learn about the most awesome local radio show, Under the Sun.

Dear Mom

Dear Mom,

 

Thank you for parenting me.  As I remember, childhood was pretty good. You were attentive and sweet mostly and while I don’t remember making sculptures out of popsicle sticks or homemade Play-Doh, I do remember  getting lots of your attention.  How did you do it for so many years?

 

I am having trouble right now.  To be frank, Tashi is bugging the shit out of me.  And Sebastian is a monster.  But the real problem is how Tashi is always underfoot.  I remember this being a problem of yours too.  It is the one thing I remember us consistently fighting about.  You stepping on my toes.  It didn’t bother me, but I remember you getting a little hysterical sometimes, like when you would take a step onto my toes and then fall down.  Well, what goes around, comes around, as they say.  Tashi is just like me.  Somehow she manages to be always under my feet.  It’s hard when I’m wearing my platform flip-flops.

 

Oh, I know I shouldn’t complain.  I see how sad it makes you now-a-days when I don’t want to sit on your lap.  I saw it on Sunday, when you gave me that look and then patted your thighs and I said, “Oh Mom.”  But Mom, I can’t eat a meal without my little curly girl climbing on top of me.

 

And why did I think shopping for first-grade school supplies would be fun?  That fiasco was my own fault in so many ways.  First because I’ve raised a spoiled, rotten, persistent princess and second because I let myself get overly excited to get the supplies in the first place.  My elation came crashing down seven minutes into shopping when Tashi begged for the pretty pink scissors.  I agree, they were pretty, but I had already crossed scissors off the list because she has six pairs at home.  I said, “NO NEW SCISSORS!  You have six pairs at home.”  I felt strong for the first hour, but each time she begged I felt her wearing me down.  I stood strong though, thanks to you and all that I learned watching you fend me off all those years.  Still, it was exhausting and I don’t look forward to doing shopping for school supplies again next year or the next or the next.  I know, just eleven more years.

 

Another thing:  Why did I think bike riding with a 6 1/2 year-old would be fun?  It’s not.  We had fun though, you and I, didn’t we, when I’d jog and you’d ride next to me and we’d talk?  Well, I’ve been trying to replicate those good times.  Today, when we rode to camp because I crashed the van into a parked Jaguar and now it’s in the shop, I said, “Right turn!”  Tashi screamed, “Why are you always talking about bike stuff?” I said, “Bike stuff? I’m just telling you which way to turn.”  My point is, she was being a bitch for no reason.  And she was swerving into traffic.

 

She’s tired, I know.  She slept in bed with me last night because Victoria’s out of town and also because there was a big spider in her room, which was no Daddy Long Legs.  I killed it and then took it’s picture and we looked it up on the Internet.

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Can’t say exactly what kind it was because I’m no arachno-specialist, but it was brown and hairy with a very big butt.  Also, Tashi didn’t sleep that well on account of it being crowded and with Beast breathing in our faces all night.  He gets protective when Victoria’s not around.  So I should have some compassion.  I remember how I could never fall asleep because it was so much fun being in your bed with you and Chaucer whenever Dad had poker night.

 

I know I should quit my bitching.  It wasn’t that bad sharpening all 48 pencils and putting Tashi’s name on them with the Sharpie.  She did a bunch of them herself and only cried twice because she messed up and couldn’t erase.  For some reason she thought her initials were N-H.  When I asked how she got that she said, “Nataaaasha.”  And it’s okay that I didn’t get to read the New York Times last night because I had to turn the light off for her.  And we did make it to camp safely, although we were an hour and a half late and I didn’t get to work until noon.  No big deal. I’m just writing to say that I like being a parent.  It’s the parenting that’s annoying.  I appreciate you doing it for me.  Thanks Mom.

 

Love,

Andrea

Mama Bear

Look what Victoria did when Sebastian got his leg caught in the crib.  She doesn’t even know Karate.

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