I got an iPod for Christmas 2008, so I was able to listen to a lot of audiobooks, though I had a weird spell starting in August when I repeatedly rejected my audiobook choices. Later, I returned to 2 of 5 of these books and found them quite agreeable. In the interim, I dove into my fallback escape genre–mystery–swallowing whole a number of these by Kathy Reichs, Patricia Cornwall, and P.D. James. Then I listened to The Thirteenth Tale read by Bianca Amato, and I was back in the throes of audiobooks. But wait, I get ahead of myself. The year started with some wonderful non-fiction, many in the spiritual vein, and I also read some great poetry this year.

Of all that I read in 2009, here are some that I recommend to others:

The Barn at the End of the World by Mary Rose O’Reilly

A Love of Impermanent Things by Mary Rose O’Reilly

Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert

Standing in the Light: My Life as a Pantheist by Sharman Apt Russell

Comfortable with Uncertainty by Pema Chodron

The Life of Pi by Tann Martel

Interpretive Work by Elizabeth Bradstreet

American Gods by Neil Gaiman

Girls Like Us: Carole King, Joni Mitchell, Carly Simon and the Journey of a Generation by Sheila Weber

Jewel by Brett Lott

The Little Stranger by Sarah Waters

So Far from God by Ana Castillo

Still Alice by Lisa Genova

Under the Banner of Heaven by John Krakauer

Into the Wild by John Krakauer

The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo by Steig Larrson

Dog Years by Mark Doty

The Sister by Poppy Adams

The Thirteen Tale by Diane Setterfield

Her Fearful Symmetry by Audrey Neffenegger

A Gate at the Stairs by Lorrie Moore

Stopping on the Edge to Wave by James Baker Hall

See How we Almost Fly by Alison Luterman

The Human Line by Ellen Bass

Mules of Love by Ellen Bass

As you can see, many of these books were published years ago, and I’m just getting to them. I’m so glad that I did, especially Ana Castillo, Jon Krakauer, and Neil Gaiman. I read without direction last year and the result was not bad.

This year, however, I’ve decided to be more purposeful. I’ve made 4 lists of books that I intend to read from:

• 10 books already on my shelves
• 10 books of poetry
• 5 classics I haven’t yet read
• 10 books I will re-read

Next time I’ll post these lists. In the meantime, let me know a few of your favorite reads from 2009.

This past week, I rented a cabin in the High Sierra for 5 days to work on the Right Sisters. I packed food, my lap top, a few sweatshirts for cooler nights and left home for the cabin. This retreat did not turn out to be the Walden adventure I envisioned when planning it, i.e quiet all but wind in the pines, musky scent of hot decaying forest earth, simple living in a sparsely furnished Forest Service cabin.

Instead I faced

• a generator that ran 24 hours a day blocking the noises of nature (necessary for electricity);
• the pungent odor of a skunk wafting intermittently through the cabin floor from an abandoned nest under the cabin;
• a floor so slanted that my computer tilted on the little kitchen table where I sat to work;
• a noisy critter that visited every night biting into anything edible that I left out (see banana picture) and waking me 4-5 times a night with his raucous presence.

The good news is that despite the sensual assaults and strange discomforts, I got tons of work done. Perhaps it is true that a little suffering is good for the work.

Still I recommend a little more investigation regarding the space you choose to stay when making your own writing retreat! Anyone have suggestions for us writers looking to retreat?

In the year since, I can’t say I’ve been a highly successful book promoter, but I’ve learned a lot, and it is quite clear that book sales rise in direct proportion to book promotion. That’s a fairly obvious conclusion, and it points to the fact that promotional efforts have to be given full attention and lots of time and effort. My attention has been sporadic. Like my exercise program this year, there have been bursts of enthusiastic effort followed by thinking and not doing.

In my more energetic moments, I’ve found some excellent resources, including the following books:

• The Frugal Book Promoter by Carolyn Howard Johnson
• Plug Your Book: Online Marketing for Authors by Steve Weber
• Speak and Grow Rich by Dottie Walters & Lilly Walters
•  Sell Your Book on Amazon by Brent Sampson

My absolute favorite, however, is Freocious Promotion for Timid Authors by Hope Clark and Gwynne Spencer.  I like this book because these women understand that book promotion feels like a chore and it’s scary. To that end that offer practical, easy to implement and inexpensive practices.

Whenever I start feeling down in the dumps about what a lousy promoter I am, I grab this book, read a few pages, and suddenly I’m re-invigorated. I start scribbling notes about things I can do immediately to get my promotional efforts back in motion.

Then I set the book down and get to work!

Make sure you get Ferocious when you start thinking about book promotion.

When you add a new member to a writers group, the same thing happens. Suddenly there are a number of new relationship. Group process theory suggests that when a new member is added, the group has to re-form and norm all over again. My writers group had first hand experience with this phenomena last spring when we invited some new members.

New folks came to several different meetings. Not all of the original members were present at each of these meetings, and we had differing ideas about how to handle our visitors participation the first time they came. Some of the newcomers said they would be back and then didn’t come nor did they let us know when or if they would be coming.

Suffice it to say that the experience was very disruptive to our process. So this summer we dedicated a portion of one meeting to discussing how we wanted to manage new members. We decided to have open enrollment once a year, and we drafted the following guidelines to help the process:

• Because group dynamics change each time someone joins, we will only add new members once a year in September. The size of the group will determine if we have room for new members. Our group size will not exceed 8 members.
• We will not extend an invitation to a prospective member without running the person’s name by the entire group.
• When inviting a new member, we explain our practice of only bringing new people in once a year in September.
• Prospective new members will be invited to the first meeting in September. We will send them this protocol ahead of time. They will observe rather than participate in the meeting.
• We will set aside time at the end of the meeting for prospective members to describe the focus of their work and ask questions.
• If after visiting the group, a prospective member is interested in joining, she should send an email to the entire group declaring her commitment to participate. The email initiates her enrollment, and we will expect her to begin regular attendance beginning the second meeting in September. If we are working with a schedule for submissions, we will notify her regarding her place in the schedule.
• We assume that we will have already given thought to those invited to join and that we will not be refusing admission. However, if after a person joins, we discover an unsuspected incompatibility, we will find a means to tactfully and kindly dismiss the person. We recognize the awkwardness and discomfort of such a decision and will therefore be thoughtful about invitations to participate and decisions to dismiss

What do you think of these guidelines? Do you think it’s overkill to be so specific? Do you have a group in which writers come and go and everything works fine. Let me know how you handle membership in your writers group.

Here a few tidbits gleaned from the notes I took during Ellen’s workshop:

• If writing something scares you, you need to write about it anyway because unwritten poems sit in the chute and everything else you try to write has to squeeze its way around. Write the poem (or the essay or story) without thinking about who will see it. Write everything; Don’t publish everything.
• Take risks in language as well as in content. Write metaphors that are weird. Fresh metaphors keep the reader off balance. Avoid clichés and over-used metaphors. Writers need to learn to tolerate a high level of “not workingness” in the process of stretching the metaphor muscle.  Gertrude Stein said that we are living in a period of late language; every day it has been around a little longer. For this reason, writers have to reach a long way to find freshness.
• Read brave poems/essays; keep one by your computer to read when you get scared.
• Discovery means the writer takes the reader to something not already known. Endings need be both surprising and inevitable. Endings are hard to come by. Writers need to be receptive and/or they need to hunt for their ending. If the ending is a surprise to the writer, it will be a surprise to the reader. Robert Frost says, “No surprise for the writer; no surprise for the reader.”
• Stay open to associations. In early drafts, allow the story to veer off. When you feel like you are loosing control, keep writing. See how far you can get from the subject without breaking the tension. Allow things to come in from left field.
• Ask questions: Why are you writing this story now? What is your agency in the story? Your complicity? What has never been said before about this thing you are considering?
• Disturb the story as you know it. Tell it anew from another character’s viewpoint. Look for ways to shake up the story: This is what I didn’t say! This is what I meant to say!




Ellen Bass gave me much to think about. However, I believe my work will develop if I simply remember to take risks and seek discovery!

A retreat needs to be a minimum of 3 days and preferably a week. My longest retreat was a month, and I’ve also enjoyed 10 day and 2 week long retreats.  Focused writing allows me to delve into the core of my subject matter.

There were times last week when I looked up from the computer screen and did not know where I was. I wrote from 6:30am until 10pm each day, stopping for brief respites called for by my shoulders and bottom. I’d circle the small flower garden at the center of the motel or walk toward the beach in the damp fog with the voices of my characters still conversing in my head. Almost without knowing, I’d turned back toward Room 125, unable to stay away long.

.

I believe a retreat supports my relationship to the writing process. When I was teaching, I talked to my students about 3 stages in the process: creating, composing, and revision.

Creating is the messiest stage. My mind leaps here and there, thinking about my subject while bathing, driving, clearing dishes, and in the fertile place between wakefulness and sleep. I scribble notes and freewrite; I read about the topic and suddenly see relevance everywhere. But the creation remains a jumbled mess.

Composing is the hardest part for me–taking the mess to the page, crafting a shape and making meaning. This is the part of the process that is best served by a retreat.  For me, composing anything worthwhile requires an extended period of time, ideally several days. Usually, I can only muster a stretch of several hours.

Revision is my favorite part. I love playing with the piece that has arrived on the page. Suddenly it is obvious where big changes and additions are needed. Tinkering with the smaller stuff like word choice and detail is pure delight. Revision is something I can do in small snatches of time, a half hour in the morning before work or sitting with a hard copy of the piece in a waiting room or during a boring meeting.

My relationship to the process never wavers. I recognize that I need to retreat to compose, something that is not necessarily easy to accomplish and so always feels like a gift. 

Then the other day, I received an email message from my favorite and most trusted editor Anne in which she wrote this: “Andy and Connie’s address.” I quickly dashed off a reply asking her to tell me the rule for this double possession construction, and here is her answer:

If two people own something together (it belongs to them as a couple), then you only use the possessive for the latter one. If two people own equal shares of something separately, then both get the possessive; both also get the possessive if the items are separate.

Patricia is Andy and John’s sister.
Chris is Andrea’s and Skylar’s mother. (not the best example, maybe, but I’m trying to show that this construction comes in handy with step-families)
We went to Connie’s and Jack’s party (i.e. we went to Connie’s party and then we went to Jack’s party).

No more pauses on this one for me. Now I can make my mark (or not) with confidence. Or can I? Shouldn’t “party” be “parties” in the last example? Better dash off another email.

1. We agree to get our pieces to one another at least two days in advance of meetings.

2. Our protocol for responding to pieces is as follows:

1. Readers come to group having read each piece in advance and prepared written commentary to offer the writer to supplement verbal critique.
2. Readers discuss each piece for a predetermined amount of time while the writer listens and takes notes after which the writer is invited to participate.
3. Readers discuss the piece saying the writer or the narrator or the writer’s name, but not using the pronoun you.
4. Responses begin with what is working in the piece, specific places where language is exciting or full of energy, images that are sparkling, writing that is fluid, etc. Sufficient time should be given to discussing the merits of the piece before turning to critique.
5. When pointing to places that don’t work well in a reader’s opinion, the reader is as specific as possible. We offer suggestions with the clear understanding that the writer ultimately decides what will work in her piece.
6. Writers listen carefully to the opinion of others, recognizing that this is simply one opinion in many and that others, including the writer, may view the work differently. Writers take what is useful and leave the rest.
7. Writers needn’t defend content, style, or word choice. Critique is simply meant to give one reader’s response. The impulse to defend comes from protectiveness around our work but can also be a signal that something deeper needs to be communicated on the page.

3. We put writing first. We are not an emotional support group. Our discussions come from a writerly perspective. We agree that if a conflict among members arises it will be managed with honest self-examination and one-to-one communication as the first option and a separate full group business meeting as a last resort.

4. A full group business meeting will be called separate from our regularly scheduled meetings to make major changes in our guidelines. Temporary or minor changes can be discussed at the close of each regular meeting.

5. We agree to keep our criticism fresh, focused, honest, and generous. We all wish to grow as writers.

6. We will have quarterly retreats that will particularly focus on exploring craft and technique as well as developing the level and perceptiveness of our critique.

Please let me know what you think of these guidelines or if you have additions, questions, or other considerations when it comes to developing a protocol for a writers group.

Finding a committed group of writers was not an easy thing. During my first creative writing workshop in 1990,  I discovered the value of getting feedback and encouragment from fellow writers. For this reason, several of my class members decided to continue meeting after the class ended. However, that group lasted for only six months. That was the start of my experience with short-lived groups.

For the next five years, I worked doggedly to convene groups of writers–anywhere from 4-6. Each group would started out enthusiastically and gradually diminish until I was the only one left. The longest any of these groups met was 6 months. I was frustrated because I’d read about successful groups and wanted to be part of one. But I was getting gun-shy, thinking that either I didn’t know any writers with same the level of commitment to a group as I and/or that I was doing something wrong in the way I organized such groups.

After my fifth group faded into oblivion, I suspended the urge to start again and simply went solo for over a year. One day, I was talking with a friend about my wish for a group, and she mentioned another friend who was writing who might be interested. I thought about it for a week before finally calling this woman. She was game, and we decided to meet for coffee and talk about what we were looking for in a group. That coffee date was the start of our “group of 2.”  For 4 years, we met twice a month for an hour and half at 7am in that same coffee shop.

Then we decided to expand our edges, and we each invited one writer friend. Both accepted and that group meet for 2 years. We were a dynamic foursome, and it was during that time that I completed my first book as did 2 of the other members. Then sadly my original partner decided to move out of the area and another member had health issues, so we were down to 2.

Since it had worked before, the 2 remaining members each invited one writer to join us. That group never jelled as nicely as the first group and seemed to limp along for a year until 2 of the writers dropped out including the one from the great foursome. Summer was coming and the remaining writer and I decided to organize a summer group of mostly teacher- writers who liked to use summer to pursue their writing vocations. Big egos in that group caused the most contentious group I’ve ever been a part of and by the end of summer I was deeply disheartened.

It took some fast talking from the women who had helped organize that group to convince me to try again. But I’m glad I did. This time we started with a large group of 8 writers in September and by the following summer we were down to four. By fall, 1 of those had dropped out but 2 more joined. The five have worked together for a solid year, though at the beginning of this summer we lost a member to a cross country move.

I’m glad that I’ve consistently made the effort to keep a writers group going.  Having the support of other writers means a lot to me. Next post, I’ll offer our group guidelines for your consideration.  In the meantime, let me know what your experience has been with writers groups.

Conferences tend to be an expensive venture, what with registration fees, travel and accommodation costs. Why put out all the money, especially when finances are tight, so tight that many conference organizers are canceling this year because they can’t pull together sufficient funding to offer a quality conference?

Wouldn’t my time be better spent staying at home and WRITING? Shouldn’t I simply focus on practicing my art, cultivating the craft? What more can I learn from mentors and teacher? Shouldn’t I “put writing first?”

These are the questions that come up every time I think about going to a conference. However, the thought that the economic situation might curtail the option to go to conferences put these questions in perspective.

Going to a conference puts me in touch with other writers, a connection that fertilizes my motivation to write and offers essential nutrients for growth. I’ve gone to conferences alone. I gone with a writer friend and once my entire writing group attended a conference together. I’ve been to conferences that were one day, three days, or a full week! I’ve signed up for festivals where I have worked with a single teacher in a workshop context and others where there were a variety of presentations to choose from. Sometimes presenters were big names like Natalie Goldberg or Dorothy Allison, but more often they were lesser known writers who had published one or two genre books or had been successful getting published in literary magazines. I’ve even taken my turn as a workshop presenter. Conferences usually have a bookstore venue and and most important, there are social gatherings, like a dinner, a tour, or a wine tasting.

I come home from such engagements energized and motivated. The subsequent spurt of the productivity and growth is exciting. I have made new friends, and the expansion of my writers network has more than once offered unforeseen assistance in later endeavors. My notebook is filled with new ideas, techniques, and books to read.

My registration for the Mendocino Conference is in the mail.  Yes, I’m ready for time among writers. In fact, I think the time is overdue.