Each morning, for the last 4 mornings, I've climbed the hill and taken off my sandals on this porch. I've then spent the next three to six hours in the building just to the left of this frame; The Sanctuary.
I've been looking forward to this week since March and it has not disappointed me. In the last three days I've produced 7 pages of a decent draft of one of the stories I've been meaning to unpack in words for decades. During the exercise drills in the morning sessions and one afternoon session, I've been receiving warm and discerning feedback from my fellow workshop writers. Many of them have published book length works. Some have successful blogs, college courses with waiting lists, agents chomping at their bits for the next installment, and many, like me, are finally daring to give form to the stories people have been asking us to share for years, or we've been needing to share.
One of the biggest revelations this week is that I part of what I've been missing in my life is writers. Most of my life I've been surrounded by story-tellers and writers. My households when I was a child, my alternative prep school as an adolescent, on the seas with sailors, as a reporter in college, and as a literary agent in publishing. Since entering my latest career over a decade ago, as a High School English teacher, I've turned exclusively to reading books and an occasional writer's seminar or reading to get my fix. It hasn't been the same thing as having daily contact with people who are producing and creating art with words.
This experiment of writing down my thoughts at the end of each day...from head to fingertips to digital page...worked until I went sailing and shifted to paper pages and got out of the habit. It's bizarre to find how dependent on wi-fi and electricity I've become.
On the first day of this week-long retreat, the head of the Institute announced that everyone should put away their cellphones and if they had to, only look at them for 5 minutes a day while there were here. She continued by emphasizing that she was mostly addressing the adults, not the teenagers! In true form, I've seen more parents than kids with their phones out, hovering by the cafe where they can access wi-fi and for those of us who are droid dependent, a signal! I've been writing in the cafe most days, as it's been cooler than my cabin, and I will admit to using the wi-fi to fact-check or do a smidgen of research for my work. My phone has been off except for taking pictures or checking to see if my kids have texted me.
I've also had a break through about needing to find a high level writing group when I return home, so my new adopted habits can be finely honed. Having an editor in NYC who has offered to help down the road is beyond fantastic, but right now I need weekly in the trenches feedback from others who are doing similar work. Dani has been very encouraging, and even invited me to some other smaller retreats in the future. She suggested Ann Hood as a resource for finding a MA writer's group. So in typical, devil may care, I sent her a message (we're fb friends) and she instantly replied that she didn't know any group in my area, but suggested a high level group in Boston that I'll follow up.
What never ceases to amaze me is that if you put yourself out there and are willing to do the work, the road often rises up to meet you. Or in this case if you're willing to climb the hill and commit to writing, receiving and critiquing with compassion and goodwill others will there to help you on your way.
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