Veins, Sheboygan County, Wisconsin, October 2009, all photos
© 2009 by QuoinMonkey. All rights reserved.
Day to day life creeps up on you. Practice falls by the wayside. Goals seem out of reach. Something inside makes you keep going.
Early October was my second time in Sheboygan County, Wisconsin to meet with three other Midwest writers in retreat. We arrived on Sunday, left on Wednesday, but we sure packed in the writing. I nearly filled an entire notebook. We try to meet every 6 months. The first night, we check in, slip sheets on the cabin beds, walk by Lake Michigan, get all the gossip and gabbing out of the way. The next day we dive in.
It’s cold this time of year. One person becomes the Firekeeper. The wood pile needs to be replenished. The fire keeps us warm. There is a need for leadership, someone to time the Writing Practices, lead the slow walking, provide structure for the silence — a Timekeeper. Most traditions have a Firekeeper and a Timekeeper. I am grateful for their effort.
Before the writing begins, we tear off pages of a lined yellow tablet, jot down Writing Topics, and throw them into a bowl. We take turns choosing a Topic and rotate who reads first. Some of the best Writing Practices surface from the strangest Writing Topics. My Other Self. Holy-Moley. The Broken Glass. After a few years of meeting, we have settled into a groove. I trust these writers.
One of the Writing Topics we drew out of the bowl was “I Write Because…” When the retreat was over, I asked everyone if they would mind if I published the practices. For me, they harken back to the days when ybonesy and I first launched red Ravine (it grew out of our practice). And she has written with these writers, too. Bob and Teri have been frequent guests on red Ravine. Jude was one of our first guests, writing her piece 25 Reasons I Write from one of the cabins near the lake.
I want to share the structure of our writing retreats because anyone can form a writing group. Community is important. For the four of us, meeting together works because we live in fairly close proximity in the Midwest. We can make the drive in 8 to 10 hours if we want to. Last time, Teri, Jude, and I flew to Kansas City, Missouri. We’re thinking about meeting in Duluth, Minnesota on Lake Superior in 6 months.
I don’t want to make it sound easy. It takes a financial investment up front. And a continued commitment to check in with each other and plan the next meeting at least 3 months ahead. But the rewards are plentiful. Accountability. Support. People who believe in me when I forget how to believe in myself. Some days it feels like our hands are going to fall off from the writing. We crave the silence.
We laugh long and hard. Deep belly laughs. Sometimes we cry. It feels good to laugh like that, to share meals together. Teri brings wild rice soup from Minnesota. Bob travels with a different kind of Kansas City barbecue each time we meet. Jude prepares her favorite dishes. I don’t like to cook. I volunteer to do the dishes.
The Timekeeper sent me a rundown of our schedule. It works pretty much the same way each time we meet. We follow what we learned from Natalie Goldberg about silence and structure and Writing Practice. Sit, walk, write. We do it because we don’t want to be tossed away. We do it because, for us, it works. It’s one way to write. It teaches discipline. It’s solid. It takes us where we need to go.
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Writing Retreat Schedule
Wake up. Silence begins.
Meet for sit, walk, write at 9 a.m.
Sit for 20 minutes.
Walk for 5-10 minutes.
Write: four, 10-minute Writing Practices…one right after the other.
Read one practice, go around the group.
Repeat for the remaining three practices.
Break for 5-10 minutes. (Can break before reading, but usually break after reading)
Return to group.
Write two more practices.
Read them to each other.
About 11:30, break for lunch. Some prep required and we ate lunch in silence.
In silence and on our own until 3 p.m. when we return to the group.
Sit for 20 minutes.
Walk for 5-10 minutes.
Write: four, 10-minute writing practices.
Read each practice write to the group.
Break for dinner about 5:30 p.m.
Break silence.
Dinner at 6.
Talking about writing, life, etc.
Read writing projects we are working on.
Second Day
Repeat of the first day.
Third/Last Day
Meet for discussion of goals for next 6 months.
Sit for 10 minutes.
Then take 1/2 hour or 45 minutes to formulate writing/creative goals for the next 6 months.
Meet in group.
Each person discusses goals.
Group comments and person refines goals.
Each member of the group emails their goals to one person who puts them all together, sends them out for review, and then issues final email to group with all the goals listed.
Report to each other on 15th of the month and the last day of the month on our progress…a check-in.
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What I really want to say is I’m grateful for other writers. I admire and respect those who hone their craft, who dedicate time to their practice, who complete projects and get their work out there (no matter how long it takes).
For me, these self-propelled mini-retreats work because:
- Follow the same Sit, Walk, Write structure each time. Consistent format.
- Time to talk, laugh, share. Time for silence. Time alone for reflection. Time to stare into space.
- No shame, no blame. We write our asses off, we read aloud. No crosstalk or feedback (except around goals).
- Set 6 month goals, check in every two weeks. Learn that we all go through highs and lows; we all want to quit writing at times.
- Clarity about money. Split the costs of lodging and groceries.
- Short visits to museums, cafes, local color, either before or after retreat.
- Practice feeds practice. Apply what is learned to other practices: photography, haiku, poetry, art.
- What happens at the retreat, stays at the retreat.
Maybe Bob, Jude, and Teri will share more about why these mini-retreats work for them. I was reading through my notebook from early October. There were notes I had jotted in the margins from a conversation we had about what success as a writer means to each of us. What does success mean to you?
What would your writing retreat look like? Go for it. Choose a time. Hook up with other writers. Create a structure. Write. Don’t look for perfection. Let yourself slip up, make mistakes, stop writing for a while if you want to. But don’t be tossed away. Here are our unedited Writing Practices on why we write. Why do you write?
I Write Because…10 minutes. Go!
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Teri Blair
I don’t know why I write anymore. That’s the problem. I used to write because I needed to. That was most of my life. Most of my life until I took a sabbatical six years ago. Until then, I found solace on the page; I straightened out my life with a pen and paper. Writing was one of my best friends…certainly a most faithful friend.
And then, I took the sabbatical and began this journey. This concentrate-on-writing-journey. It went well initially. I let myself write all those essays, I joined the Blue Mooners writing group, I studied with Natalie Goldberg, and I starting working with Scott. I sent my work out and even got some small paychecks from editors. But somewhere in there, during these six years, it changed. People started asking me if I had sold anything, asking me about writing all the time. I wanted them to ask me, and then I didn’t. I was losing something by involving everyone, and then it just turned into a pressure. I was writing to have an answer to their questions. Or to feel special. When this was dawning on me, I went to hear Mary Oliver at the State Theater. She told the writers in the audience to write a long, long time before they tried to publish. I knew she was right. I knew I had to go back inside myself if I was going to save this thing that I had once loved and needed and felt close to.
The trip out of the pressure has been much more difficult than the joy-ride in. And now, all I want to do is write, but nothing comes. The voice inside prods: Why do you want to write? Are you going to try to get your life needs met through me? If I come back, will you go down the same old path?
I’m not yet solid in my convictions, though very close.
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Jude Ford
I write because…there are as many reasons to do it as there are reasons not to. At this point, after all these years of honing my writing skills, it would feel like a waste – and a loss – to not do it.
I write because I love to read. Reading triggers my mind to come up with my own ways of arranging words. Reading reminds me of what I want/need to say.
I write because I didn’t feel listened to as a kid. Yeah, yeah, I probably talked so much back then that no one ever could listen to me enough to make me feel heard. My father used to like to say I’d been vaccinated with a phonograph needle in infancy. (I just realized what a dated image that is. Who ever associates a needle with sound in 2009?!)
I don’t feel well listened to even now, I guess. I got into the habit, as I was growing up, of speaking less and less and by the time I turned 21, I’d perfected the art of being agreeable rather than speaking up about who I was or what I thought. I didn’t even know, myself, who I was or what I thought half the time.
But I wrote. Starting when I was 19 and left home for good, I wrote all the time. My journals from my 20’s are full of depression and melodrama, poems that sound as young as I was. When I read them now, they make me cringe.
And yet – I remember what those journals were to me at the time, my one lifeline, my safest place, the only place in my life where I brought all of my true self.
I write still so that I can find out who I am and what I think. There are other lifelines now – Chris, my friends, my work – where I also bring my true self but writing remains one of my mainstays.
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Bob Chrisman
I write because something inside me wants to tell my stories, put them outside myself and free up the space they take inside me, free up that energy I use to keep the unpleasant ones out of my consciousness. I write because I want to make sense of a non-sensical life, the one I live. Sometimes the connections don’t become obvious until I see them laid out on paper in front of me.
I write to tell my story so that anyone out there who is or has experienced some of the things I have will know they aren’t alone, will know that I survived what they are going through. I write to connect with other people because when I do I feel successful as a human being.
I write because I must. Writing makes me feel free once I’m finished. Starting a piece may prove difficult. I may even avoid writing for days or weeks, but once I begin and finish a difficult piece I feel freer.
I write because writing has introduced me to some of the most wonderful people in the world, people who give me hope that we may deal with our problems and change the world, save us from ourselves.
I write because I must tell my truth to the world, as much as I feel safe telling.
I write because it feels good to see the words appear on the paper as the pen glides across the page. Sometimes surprises happen. Things appear that I didn’t consciously mean to say. Misspelled words give new meaning to what I said, new truth.
I write because writing gives me control over my life.
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QuoinMonkey
I write because I love to write. I love writers. I write because it’s a place that is still. I let myself dive into the black. I am honest with myself. Things never seem to be as bad as I think they are when I write.
I write to make sense out of my life. My mother’s life. My grandmother’s life. My crazy family. I write with a community of writers because I know I’m not alone. Because they help me hold the space. Because they are not afraid of what they might find in the silence.
I write to learn about things I would never research if it were not for writing. I write to learn. I write to quell the hunger. I write to still my insatiable curiosity.
I write to help me confront my own death. I write to find my voice, to tap into my inner courage. I write to not feel so alone. Yet writing is lonely. And when I write I am often alone. I write to connect with what is important to me. To connect with others. I write. I write. I write.
I have always written. But writing with wild abandon is something I’ve had to relearn as an adult.
I write to push myself outside of the lines. Because I care about the writers who came before me. I write to teach others how to write. Don’t do as I say; do as I do.
Writing practice frees me. But it’s not a finished piece. It may never be a finished piece. Yet it might.
Writing Practice takes me where I need to go. Teaches me Faith. Patience. Courage. Risktaking. That it’s okay to cry. Conflict resolution. What I care about. What I could care less about.
I don’t have to love everyone or everything. Writing is structure. It teaches me how to live.
-posted on red Ravine, Tuesday, November 3rd, 2009
-related to Topic: WRITING TOPIC — 25 REASONS I WRITE
Thank you Qoinmonkey for this generous act of sharing the mechanics of your retreat and practices. Also, a big thanks to the other writers in your group for letting their writing be posted here. By your sharing in this post you encourage other writers through modelling a method which helps to submerge the selves into silence and just doing the writing.
The writing group I belong to is planning a retreat for one day at the end of November. May I have your permission to print out four copies of this blog entry to share among us? G
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Thank you all of you for sharing your structure, your ways, and your writing practices. This was an amazing read, from top to bottom. You have a *very* special thing here.
We’ve learned so much about your journeys as writers, individually and together.
Teri, when I read about the pressure of writing, this new pressure of late, I thought about how challenging it is to take our passions and make them our life’s vocations. How many times have we heard people say that that’s why it’s best to not try to make a living from one’s passions? For me, it would be a cop-out to not try, to not give it my best. But I can understand why some people don’t go there. I admire you for persisting.
This piece makes me want to write, to get back into an everyday writing practice. That is a measure of its success…that you’ve inspired someone else to keep with it. Thank you.
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Thank you. I am a rainy-day reader of Red Ravine — I come for inspiration and sheer pleasure, or sometimes, like today, by chance because it was on Facebook when I arrived this morning. I have “earned a living” by writing until a year+ ago, when I quit a job-gone-bad and have not gone seeking another. I can no longer conjure up the energy to “get inside someone else’s head” to be their ghost writer, or turn innovative ideas into promises of practical goods and services. I have taken my current calling from my experiences walking the labyrinth at Ghost Ranch, where I came away with the insights that I am now the “keeper of the altar,” and also that I need to figure out “what to tell the children.” I have thus focused on organizing photographs and displaying family treasures — but I have avoided writing… I am a prolific recorder of day-to-day activities in my daybook, but I have not explored my “inner” or “personal” life (for lack of a better description). Maybe too much like “work”? Maybe too much unknown? Maybe it’s time I figured out what I really want to know about that part of me and maybe even tell the children. …maybe opening up new ways to see and enjoy my new life and enjoy the freedom to create my own narrative. Your essays stir the fire and encourage me to look for colleagues who might like to try a writing retreat.
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Gosh, I’m pretty proud of our little writer’s group…seeing it all in black and white here.
The most important thing about the group (to me) is that I am not alone in the solitary journey of writing. The anchor of our twice-yearly meetings and twice-monthly check-ins keeps me steady. I carry Jude, Bob, and QM with me everyday. When I start to falter, I can think about us sitting around the fireplace at Lake Michigan, and I’m buoyed up again.
ybonesy, I think you’ve touched on an extremely sensitive issue–the money piece. Unless you’re Harper Lee (and win the Pulitzer with your first book), you’ve got to figure out how to write and live. It has required big changes in my life, ones that make me feel like I’m chronically swimming upstream. It’s not always fun being a salmon, and explaining your salmon-ness to yourself and the world.
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What a delight to hear from you, Anne. It sounds like serendipity was at play when you went into Facebook and saw the post. (BTW, this was the first time that Facebook actually auto-published a post from red Ravine. What a great feature!)
“Keeper of the Altar”–what a gift, to come to this realization while walking the labyrinth at Ghost Ranch. I would love to hear more about how you’ve taken that phrase and interpreted it. You mention displaying family treasures. Have you created any altars or special spots in the home where you’ve brought out things previously hidden away? And of course, I’ve seen some of your photo albums, at least the ones you keep on FB and in other online spots. I love that you organize them right away into albums. That is a gift to family and friends, and something that often alludes those of us (like myself) who want to be more organized but can’t seem to figure it out.
I wish you success in finding like-minded community for a writing retreat. Keep us posted. (And please say “hey” to the girls. Hope they had a great Halloween!)
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What great inspiration from all of the group! Loved reading the structure & individual reasons for writing! Thanks! Today I shall write, because…D
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Teri, I recently read a great post by one of our writing blogger friends (Simonne Michelle-Wells, “Into the Quiet”). It is a letter to her younger self, which she published in a book recently. She starts the letter by listing all the reasons why she will not be a rich and famous writer. The letter reminded me of what Mary Oliver said about needing to write for a very long time before trying to get published.
The letter is also funny, which softens the blow of what it has to say about the slog that writing is and that she (Simonne) has tried to avoid. I hope you’ll check it out; a resonant piece for many writers, I’m sure. Here’s the link:
http://simonnemichelle.wordpress.com/2009/10/13/a-letter-to-my-younger-self/
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I’m getting home late from work and checking in on red Ravine. I really appreciate these wonderful comments. I have a meeting with ybonesy coming up shortly. But wanted to at least check in here and respond to a few comments. I’ll be back later to add a little more.
G., I’d be honored to have you print off this post and share it with your writing retreat group. You made my day. I’m delighted that others find this practice and retreat piece helpful. And I’m grateful to the other writers who allowed me to share their practices here. I hope you’ll come back and let us know how your retreat goes. What you found helpful there. All is welcome here.
I wrote this piece in early October, right after the retreat in Wisconsin. Then went to Pennsylvania and Georgia for a little over a week to work on more writing and family history (and to visit with family). When I came back and read the draft last night, I made a few changes. But not many. I did add the photographs.
One thing I did on this last retreat was to not only write my ass off, but really get into my photography practice. Even though I’ve had the camera for a few years, I brought the manual for the Canon G6 and tried to learn some new things about my camera. I love photographing in silence. I did a lot of that in Taos, New Mexico, too, when we studied with Natalie. The great thing about what she has taught us about practice is that it can apply to your whole life. Practice does practice. Writing does writing. Photography does photography. If I get out of my own way.
Again, I appreciate the depth of these comments. Off to prepare for a meeting. Today is also the 3 year anniversary of the conception of red Ravine. November 3rd, 2006. I can’t believe it’s been that long. Milestones. Markers. Cairns along the way.
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QM, your photography practice at this retreat is evident. That first photo is so clear, it seems I can reach out and touch the leaves and bark and wood. Is that Maple leaf with red veins. it is beautiful.
Did your group keep fires both in the cabin and outdoors, like a bonfire?
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Thanks, yb. I should know if it’s maple. If I had to guess, I’d say yes. Not quite sure though. This trip I experimented with the white balance on the digital camera. And the super close up zoom. I had forgotten how to use it. The white balance helped to get the full range of color. I’m going to keep working with it. I appreciate your comment.
You know, we didn’t have a fire outside. Though there was a fire ring not far from the back door. We usually have them inside. Of course, last year the matriarch of the family that owns the cabins died shortly before we arrived. And the family had a huge bonfire funeral pyre on the beach. It was magnificent. Think I did a post about it. I’ll have to come back and add the link. Felt her presence there strongly last year. This year was different. Not many others around. And a huge storm blew in one day and I meant it raged the whole day. Driving rain and wind. Then the sun came out in the late afternoon. Cleansing.
We also ran out of propane on one of the tanks. So we didn’t have heat for a bit. The fire came in handy. BTW, Bob braved the driving rain and struck up quite a conversation with the propane man about how propane heat works. It was fascinating. Reminded me of King of the Hill. 8)
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Anne, thanks so much for your comment on this post. Like ybonesy, I would love to hear more about “Keeper of the Altar.” Where it leads you. Where you land with your writing and archiving. My mother is the family archiver. And I like to help her out in that role. We both enjoy the research. Good quality time together doing it, too.
I’d love to walk the labyrinth at Ghost Ranch some day. I thought about the brick labyrinth in Martinez, Georgia a few weekends ago when I was down there with my mother. Once you walk them, they get into your blood. Teachers. Slow walking teachers.
A sidenote…I’m fond of the name Elise. It was my maternal grandmother’s name.
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diddy, did you end up writing today? Thanks for stopping by. You and Scaramastra should do writing practice together. Or have your own little retreat there in PA. I bet you’ve got a couple of other friends who might be game. Sleep tight in PA tonight. Sending good energy.
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QM, thanks for posting this piece. I can go back to the retreat in my head: the fireplace, the broken handle on the fireplace screen, the propane truck arriving in the cold rain, the walks by the lake, and, through it all, writing with 3 creative friends for a few days. It keeps me going through the next 6 months until we meet again.
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Ahhhh, such a good reminder, on this cold November day in Wisconsin, of the power of our retreats. Thank you for posting this QM and thank you to all the rest of you for your comments. I’m in a month long, sort of intentional, dead writing zone. (A friend corrected me when I called it a dead zone. “Not dead,” she said. “Involutional. Like a tulip bulb in winter.” ) I’ve ground to a halt in my work on my book. For now. For a while. Too much self-imposed pressure. It’s good to be reminded that writing isn’t all – or even mostly – about production, publication or approval. Even my own approval.
As the firekeeper, let me say how much I enjoy the literal role
when we’re at the cabin. And also, how much all of you – Teri, Bob, and Debra, plus all who comment on this site – help me bank the fires and blow on the coals when when they start to cool.
YB, I just read “A Letter to My Younger Self.” Delightful. Funny. Spoke straight into my heart. Thanks. I think I might write a letter to my own younger self.
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QM – loved the photos. Your increasing skill is obvious.
I’ve tried and tried, with my antique digital camera, to capture that shore when its just that particular blue, the sand that particular tan, the almost turquoise sky with white puffs in it, white puffs on the lake, too. You got it! It takes me right there. Lovely.
Also loved the shot taken through the rain streaked window. The grey outside.
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QM, yes I did. Not feeling well & worried about R3, though J did visit yesterday & is going back tonight. He seems to be getting some much needed rest. J also called his nurse last night. Don’t want to overwhelm him with company, though he is much loved by so many. Yes, I wrote about R3 & what a pillar of strength he is to everyone who’s lives he touches. D
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I loved reading this, QM. Thank you for sharing your experiences with the group.
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I miss writing retreats. I used to attend them when I lived in Los Angeles and less frequently when I moved to northern California. I haven’t been at all since I moved to Portland. I don’t belong to a writing group. I miss that. I would really love to belong to one that met at least a couple of times a year. That would get the juices flowing and the words tumbling out.
You’re right about the community and consistency. The group won’t work with those two components which instill commitment.
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Jude & Bob, thank you. And thanks for granting permission to publish your practices. Looking forward to the next time we meet. Should be kind of in between Winter and Spring.
diddy, glad you got to write about it. I woke up today and Liz was writing on the couch. It does my heart good to see people writing. 8)
Corina & Robin, thanks for stopping by. The consistency is really important. And for me, the boundaries are important. That what happens or is read about at these little mini-retreats, stays at the retreats.
Natalie’s big on no feedback on the Writing Practices. Except for Recall (which is explained in our Writing Practice tab). Writing Practices are raw and unedited, thoughts on random topics, yet timed, so there is a structure to the writing, a beginning and end.
I wanted to add that we don’t give feedback on our two week check-in’s either. We simply check in on where we are with our goals and projects. There is no email back and forth, no feedback, no judgment. Speaking for myself, I find that if I talk about my projects too much, they lose steam and energy. Writing and art projects, especially in their infancy, need to be held in the belly. Holding them close gives them room to breathe. Talking about them with everyone seems to dissipate the energy. These pieces of the structure, for me, are all very important. Thanks to all for the great comments.
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A quick update. If you’re planning on meeting with your Writing Group early next year, now’s the time to start planning. We have met in Wisconsin and Missouri and wanted to move it to Minnesota this time.
Teri did a little research and found a great place down on Lake Pepin in southern Minnesota (which isn’t really a lake but a naturally forming wide area of the Mississippi River). Early this week, she sent out an email to the three of us with a flyer attached; within a few days we had all agreed and booked the place, setting our intention to meet again in April (gratitude to Teri for the research).
I can’t tell you how much having a date planned to meet with fellow writers again adds to my intention and incentive to keep writing. I’ve been working a lot of OT and barely had time for the writing this week. But planning our next silent retreat gave me the extra boost I needed.
Also, ybonesy’s post this week on having an art playdate [See Host An Art Playdate (LINK)] helped me to keep motivated about my art and going to the studio to work on the art and photo projects I have going.
The important thing to note is that ANYONE can do these things — form writing or art groups in their local area. Or meet with writers or artists who are close enough to travel a state away. Even in tight financial times, if you plan early enough, you can save the money to do it — the money will follow in support of the intention. Don’t wait. Plan now!
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I agree, QuoinMonkey. Having those four days blocked off on my April calendar is a wonderful anchor to anticipate. This time, **we’ll** be the ones at the airport waiting for our traveling friends.
Because we’ve all been taught “no good, no bad,” there’s a wonderful comfort in coming together. Last time, I had no clue, no direction. It didn’t matter. No one was shaking a scolding finger. In that spirit, I was able to start finding my way again.
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[…] On Kiev… on Host An Art PlaydateSnow Falling On Kiev… on HoopsTeri Blair on I Write Because….Teri Blair on Book Talk – Do You Let Y…Robert Morse on haiku […]
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Teri, I’m excited to show Bob and Jude a little more of Minnesota. It will be that in-between time, the space between Winter and Spring. It feels like a relief to not be the ones flying this time. I like that it moves around to different geographies. Wakes us up.
I don’t feel like I have much direction in my writing at the moment, yet still feel like it will be good to show up. You are right, the no good, no bad makes it safe. Anything can happen between now and April though. I hope I’m a little further along on my goals by then. I’m much more clear about my photo and art projects. Writing seems harder right now.
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Sounds like fun, guys. I’m impressed by how your group is cohesive and focused. It’s a great structure.
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There is a plaque overlooking Lake Pepin that reads: “….writer William Cullen Bryant praised Lake Pepin’s scenery and declared the area ought to be visited in the summer by every poet and painter in the land.”
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I’ve listened to a CD today that Introduces A Farewell to Arms. They play part of Hemingway’s acceptance speech for the Nobel Prize in which he says:
“…Writing at its best is a lonely life. Organizations for writers palliate the writer’s loneliness, but I doubt they improve his writing…”
I had to look up the word palliate. It means “to ease without curing.” I’m all for being palliated by our writing group twice a year.
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Writing group as palliative. Better than drink or drugs. 8)
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[…] a different way of seeing. I find that taking photographs with the BlackBerry frees me up. I got to know my Canon PowerShot more intimately this year at a writing retreat and will continue to take RAW photos. But sometimes […]
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[…] Judith Ford is a psychotherapist and writer who lives in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. She was red Ravine’s very first guest writer, with her 25 Reasons I Write post. She joins ybonesy and QuoinMonkey in writing about Topic post WRITING TOPIC — DOOR. Judith’s other pieces on red Ravine include Mystery E.R. and a writing group practice I Write Because. […]
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[…] ybonesy and I write together weekly in an online group. And I just returned from a retreat with my Midwest Writing Group down by Lake Pepin, where I nearly filled an entire spiral […]
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[…] with her 25 Reasons I Write post. Judith’s other pieces on red Ravine include Mystery E.R., I Write Because, and PRACTICE – Door – […]
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[…] walking, writing with the Midwest Writing Group on the Wisconsin side of Lake Michigan. This is the 7th time we’ve met. The first was October […]
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[…] piece 25 Reasons I Write. Judith’s other pieces on red Ravine include lang•widge, Mystery E.R., I Write Because, and PRACTICE – Door – 20min. Spring Cleaning is based on a 15 minute Writing Practice on […]
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[…] For more on how we structure our small retreats see: Sit, Walk, Write On Lake Michigan and I Write Because… Rate this: Share this:TwitterFacebookStumbleUponDiggRedditLike this:LikeBe the first to like this […]
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