An Interview with Kristi Hemmer

The March Final Thursday Reading Series featured reader is Kristi Hemmer. A UNI alum, Hemmer is the author of Quit Being So Good: Stories of an Unapologetic Woman (Wise Ink Creative Publishing) and the founder of the Academy for Women’s Empowerment. She is a social entrepreneur, and educator, and a world traveler. Hemmer’s visit is co-sponsored by the UNI Women’s and Gender Studies Program as part of Women’s History Month.

The Final Thursday Reading Series takes place at the Hearst Center for the Arts in Cedar Falls, Iowa. There will be an open mic at 7:00 p.m. (bring your best five minutes of original creative writing). Kristi Hemmer takes the stage at 7:30. The featured reading will also be simulcast on Zoom. Click HERE to register for a link.

Interview by Leah Gutknecht.

LEAH GUTKNECHT: You share in Quit Being So Good that you started off as a teacher. How did your role in education influence the work you do today?
KRISTI HEMMER: Once a teacher, always a teacher. I don’t call it teaching when I stand on stage in front of hundreds or thousands of people, because unfortunately not everyone had a good experience in school. But it’s what I do best—teach! From the PoWercourse I created to the keynote talks I give to the way I connect with people around the world—that comes from my time as an educator. Also, being in education for 20 years as a teacher, counselor, principal, coach, faculty development specialist, and substitute teacher gave me an understanding of the SYSTEM of education. And it gave me a lot of tools to be a social entrepreneur and start AWE INC (Academy for Women’s Empowerment). 

LG: Your college experience at UNI had an impact on Quit Being So Good. How did your time at UNI influence who you are today?
KH: UNI is an integral experience in my being. My education in education influenced how I taught for 20 years, and how I train/influence now as a social entrepreneur-11 years. Some of my favorite takeaways from UNI that I use today are…
1. I learned in my diversity class in 1991 that the word “sorry” means “I feel badly” to women and “I take blame” for men. I tested it out at The Stein that night, and it was true. It has shifted a little bit now, but not much. Language is powerful. I teach this and live by not saying “sorry” (except in great loss). Don’t get me wrong—I apologize. I just don’t use the word “sorry.”
2. Learning in Dr. May’s class that you can’t control a 3-year-old—only the environment. It’s true for a teenager or a fifty year old. I find this wisdom SO powerful not only for me, but for those I work with/influence.
3. UNI is the first place I didn’t have to show up as the “Smart, Nice” girl, because not everyone knew me. I’m so grateful my roomie was from a very small town in southeast Iowa. It gave me a chance to be me—she didn’t know any different. I loved the freedom to be me. Unapologetically. Don’t get me wrong, I was still on the Dean’s list every semester and ODK and KPD and on and on and on, but I also had so much fun meeting others and learning about myself. As I say in my book, I’m SO much more than a “smart, nice girl.” In addition, that’s what society wanted and benefitted from me—not how I wanted to be defined or remembered.
4. UNI gave me the opportunity to practice leadership. I headed the first Challenge of Teaching Conference. I was President of the NAEYC. I played a season on the Tennis Team (I didn’t make the top six but was on standby). I was Secretary of Kappa Delta Pi. I was a Desk Assistant. I taught tennis lessons for City Rec in Cedar Falls and the Wellness Program at UNI. It also gave me a safe space to start challenging authority and the limiting beliefs that I had and others had about me as a single woman in education. It also was a place that people saw my possible. Growing up, I was often encouraged to stay small—to shrink. My teachers/professors are the ones who saw my potential and showed me how to use it to get to something bigger than I knew about. I make sure I do the same now—wherever I go.
PS. In my book, chapter two takes place at The Stein and the friends I reference—we’re still friends today.

LG: In your travels to 75 countries and counting, what has been most surprising to you in terms of encouraging women to take up space?
KH: What surprises me the most is that once I say something, women share SO many stories. And once I show them how to take up more space, they do it for themselves and others! I call it #BeWhatSheCanSee. It’s powerful! Also, I get very frustrated and mad with how things are going for women in the USA right now. And then, I’m reminded by my friend from Indonesia who told me just this morning, “You know if you’re Indonesian and working in America, it’s like a dream of every citizen here.” After living in Indonesia for two years and returning every year since 2003 (except for COVID years), he’s right. I don’t worry about clean water. I do have the possibility of divorce. I do have the ability to raise my children without a man in my life (if I had children). And so much more. This doesn’t mean I will be blind to what’s going on in the world (I read Anne Frank). It’s just that I will pay attention AND use my power as an American to make the world better for everybody. 

LG: Quit Being So Good shares a mantra of Take Up Space, Be First, and Look for the Helpers. What's your advice to someone who feels they've tried and still haven't gotten there?
KH: Hmmm. This is a hard one. My belief is that when one uses the word “try,” it means “I think it’s a good idea, but I’m not going to do it (fully).” I’m not saying try harder—because try is still in there. I’d say choose one and do one thing every day to:
1. Take up space. Speaking up, standing taller/bigger, sitting at a table you usually don’t, raising your hard first, apply for a job, so so so many ways.
2. Be first. The first time you did… Or the first time a woman did…. Or be the first follower. The first one to show support of a group, individual, or idea.
3. Look for the Helpers. If you’re struggling to do #1 or #2—look for the Helpers. Ask for help. Or, if that feels too scary, hangout with people who are Helpers or Changemakers. Once I figure out that someone is not a Helper/Changemaker or doesn’t want to, I don’t spend time with them (or limit my time). 

LG: What advice would you give students today at UNI?
KH: 1. Do things alone. Especially travel. For me, experiencing things alone gives you an opportunity to see yourself deeply, see others (the same and different), and trust in both.
2. Connect with others—intentionally. If you do #1, you surely will do this naturally. For example, I’m in Aruba right now. When I first came here in 2021, I knew nobody. I searched for Social Entrepreneurs in Aruba. Anika’s name popped up. I messaged her on LinkedIn, we met up, she introduced me to Charisse, who introduced me to Deborah, and I did a presentation at the University of Aruba. I’m still friends with them today. And have expanded from there. It’s a fun game of Connect the Dots!
3. Take up space (and share space that you have). Be first (and be a first follower of others doing good work). Look for the helpers (and be a helper)! :)

An Interview with Laura Farmer

February’s Final Thursday Reading Series features short story writer and novelist Laura Farmer. Farmer is the author of Direct Connection: Stories and a Novella (Bridge Eight Press) and Catch and Release (North Dakota State University Press). A native of Cedar Falls, she currently directs the Dungy Writing Studio at Cornell College in Mt. Vernon, where she helps students tell stories of their own. 

The Final Thursday Reading Series takes place at the Hearst Center for the Arts in Cedar Falls, Iowa. There will be an open mic at 7:00 p.m. (bring your best five minutes of original creative writing). Laura Farmer takes the stage at 7:30. The featured reading will also be simulcast on Zoom. Click HERE to register for a link. 

Interview by Olivia Brunsting. 

OLIVIA BRUNSTING: The theme of moving through a season of change is at the core of Direct Connection. Was there a season of change in your own life that inspired this collection?

LAURA FARMER: I was actually in the middle of a season of bad luck, writing-wise. I failed to find a home for my first novel, and I ended up selling my second novel three times in seven years – lots of bad luck with publishers folding, agents not working out, etc. When I wrote Direct Connection, I didn’t know if I would ever sell a novel. So I put together this collection as kind of a last-ditch effort to get something out there. Short stories are also my first love. Putting this collection together was actually fun because I wasn’t putting any kind of pressure on myself. I was just trying to reconnect with writing, to find some of the joy I was afraid I was losing while pursuing the hunt of publishing. 

OB: Many of the characters in this collection had left Iowa but then decided to come back. What do you think makes Iowa so magnetic?

LF: Home is home, right? I think there’s a common story in Iowa that when we’re young we can’t wait to get out and build a life somewhere else. And then, for many of us, there comes a time when we can’t wait to come back and build something here. For me, I lived out in New York state for a number of years, and after a while I wanted something different. To be closer to my family. A different pace of life. I love how strangers talk to each other out here, how the sky is enormous. Iowa’s just home. 

OB: “Record of Grief” is the lengthiest short story in this collection although it's not the title story. Why did you pick “Direct Connection” as your title story?

LF: The themes in the story “Direct Connection” seemed to resonate throughout the whole collection: moving through a season of change, finding joy in small moments, searching for ways to be closer to something, be it another person, yourself, or the world around you. Plus, I liked the title. I thought it sounded pretty good. 

OB: Your novel Catch and Release was published this summer! Tell us a little about this book.

LF: Like Direct Connection, the novel is also set in Iowa, but on the other side of the state and at an earlier time. Here’s a brief description: Charles “Catch” Sherman has lived at the corner of Fourth and Lafayette, in the house his grandfather built, his entire life. While content with his small life in the river town of Beaumont, Iowa, he knows life will be much different for his eldest daughter Edie, a gifted physics student. Set in the late 1950s through the 1970s, and told in alternative voices between Catch and Edie, Catch and Release is the story about holding on, letting go, and the leaps we must take to become the people we are meant to be. 

OB: What would you say to other writers who are working on projects of their own?

LF: Writing is a long game, so do what you need to do to keep going. Take time off. Try something different. But do keep going. We’ve all got stories to tell.

An Interview with Gail Lynn

2025’s slate of FTRS featured readers begins on January 30 with Gail Lynn, author of the memoir Bell Bottom Blues. Gail grew up in Janesville in the 1970s during a tumultuous era when youth culture had disrupted conventions and redefined what growing up meant. It was an exciting and confusing time, and Gail captures it by documenting her 14th summer, a time when she was still a girl but experiencing all the complexities of adult life. Check out the Spotify playlist of music referenced in Bell Bottom Blues.

The Final Thursday Reading Series takes place at the Hearst Center for the Arts in Cedar Falls, Iowa. There will be an open mic at 7:00 p.m. (bring your best five minutes of original creative writing). Gail Lynn takes the stage at 7:30. The featured reading will also be simulcast on Zoom. Click HERE to register for a link.

Interview by Jim O’Loughlin. 

JIM O’LOUGHLIN: What initially led you to focus Bell Bottom Blues on the summer of 1972?

GAIL LYNN: Bell Bottom Blues exists BECAUSE of the summer of 1972. Initially, I thought that summer was significant because of the young hippie I had a crush on and the heartbreak that resulted. Although that is partly true, the more I wrote the more I realized there was much more to that summer. Yet Bell Bottom Blues would not exist without the heartbreak I experienced that summer. 

JO: The rock music of the era plays a big role in this book. Can you talk about its importance to you as a teenager?

GL: Music was a constant in my life, and still is today. I was a shy and lonely teenager and music, along with television and movies, were my companions. They comforted me. I could count on them when family and friends let me down. Music in particular is such an emotional experience and that emotion made me feel more connected to it. 

JO: What are the aspects of the 1970s that seem most different from today, and which seem most familiar?

GL: It was a simpler time in many ways. Of course, that wasn’t all good. I think parenting has changed for the better. People are generally more aware of what good parenting is. In the ‘70s we never used seatbelts or proper car seats. My father who suffered from PTSD would have been more likely today to get treatment, which may have resulted in being a more present father and husband. One thing I feel hasn’t changed is how teenagers respond to music. Although music is more varied today and is acquired differently, the emotional connection is still there. 

JO: One of the things that I most admire about this book is that you capture the perspective of “Gail at 14” and resist the temptation to look back with the hindsight of an adult to comment or correct. Was that something you did consciously, or did you find the process of writing just led to that?

GL: It was definitely a conscious effort on my part, and it wasn’t easy. Once I got into that mindset, it became easier.