A Weekend Women's Writing Retreat

This weekend was seriously heavenly! I spent it at Silver Lake with about twenty other brilliant ladies who all had one thing in common- the love of the written word. It was a wonderful experience and almost more than one blog can hold so I think I'll piece meal it, touching on a point each time.

Today I'll just give a taste of the experience and a brief overview of all that I learned. Then I'll get into the nitty gritty later.

Arrival-
After six hours of driving with Julia(goofyj) and Donna and her daughter Mandy, the four of us arrived at a gorgeous cabin right on a picturesque little lake surrounded by mountains and evergreens. You felt like you were living on a postcard.

Right away we met Liz Adair who organized the entire ANWA event. It is so interesting to finally meet someone that you only have an internet relationship with. Her sky blue eyes and sparkling personality were a joy. How grateful I was to be included and considered her friend.

We were one of the first to arrive. I assumed that everyone would know each other but me, yet the truth was many of the people had not met before but something amazing happened. It only took one question, "Tell me about you work in progress" and an automatic connection was made. I heard brillant stories, plot ideas and personal ambitions, most being balanced with motherhood and other responsibilities.

It was invigorating to be around so many women of creation and vitality. I laughed so much that my sides ached and I talked so much I became hoarse. Each night I got to bed far later than I should have not wanting to sleep and miss a single word of the lives, thoughts and future dreams of these fabulous ladies.

There were a number of lessons and writing exercises which I'll review later but I'll end with two great things I learned.

1. UNITY IS BORN OF WOMEN WITH A COMMON CAUSE-
When I left the retreat, I was on a high because the entire weekend was overflowing with such unity, love, sisterhood and support. I mourned a little because in our ward I don't always feel that same connection and I wondered why. Then it hit me. At the retreat we all had a common dream that was important enough for each of us to sacrifice to be there. That dream or goal connected us from the moment we met.

In the church if we could remember our common goal with more clarity, I believe that same unity would fill our hearts and encourage us to naturally reach out more than we do. I am so guilty because I have been very withdrawn since moving into my new ward and I plan on repenting of that immediately.

2. I'M NOT SO WEIRD AFTER ALL
The truth is I worry alot that I am weird. I love to come to new plateaus of understanding, I love expressing complex ideas, I often open my mouth and look around to see people blankly staring at me not understanding a word I said. I also HATE my body. My thyroid went out a number of years ago and the weight gain is my nemesis.

This weeked I suddenly was in my element. Like the eagle among chickens that can't understand why he craves more, I was able to finally soar to the highest mountain crags and rub shoulders with others of my kind- writers alike.

On the way home my two friends and I (and Mandy) went to the outlet Mall and went shopping together at Dress Barn for Women. It was incredible. Because I wasn't going with my size 7 daughter, I felt totally comfortable as we all tried on the same outfits and laughed at our flaws and complimented our strengths. Going home, I felt comfortable in my own skin for the first time in a long time.

What a gift this weekend was of friendship, learning and joy. Life is good--- and I haven't even told you about the writing stuff yet.

Thank you again Liz!!!

Why Do Bad Things Come in Threes... or Fours

Yesterday was an awful day. It just was. Our house was supposed to sell and the buyers backed out last minute. I got an email telling me that my next book was rejected from church headquarters for copyright and that I have to bring 44 quotes down to 10-- its killing me!!! And I was supposed to go to a baptism with a teenager who was investigating the gospel, but we walked in as they were closing the font doors and the missionaries looked like they wanted to kill me- well, maybe only beat me up really badly. It was a bad day.

I wish life was fair, that when you have a really stinky day like that the next day is filled with incredibly happy successes like a publisher from Harper Collins happened to read my little fragment on Hatrack and offered me a million dollar advance to write it or that the last four years of my tax refunds were miscalculated and I really should receive twice as much back-- or maybe just that someone really wants to buy my house.

So today instead of finishing the manuscript and sending it back to church headquarters or finishing the taxes which are still hanging over my head or working on my next manuscript which I really want to have completed within two months to boost my first book sales, I played literi on yahoo for a couple hours and won almost every game! Then I called three of my sisters and four old friends long distance, gabbing happily for hours catching up on the news, our children, and life in general. As the children bounded through the door home from school, each kissed me on the cheek before running outside or upstairs. I have to admit it was a pretty great day to be surrounded by that much love. I know I couldn't possibly afford to spend every day just playing around, but now and then I think everyone needs a day where they simply enjoy life. All the responsibilities will still be there waiting for me tomorrow but for today it was nice to let it all go.

And it almost offset yesterday- almost.

Writer's Block and not Doing your Homework

Tonight was bedlam. I was watching a nine-year-old girl for a friend and the younger children were running around our feet, screaming in glee and showing off. To top it off I was late starting dinner and forgot I was having dinner guests until they arrived at the door. Somehow I had also asked my teenager to make dinner rolls. Of course, they weren't ready in time and the kitchen sink was piled high with all the dishes she had used for her small little salty mounds of what tasted like hardened playdough. My older sons and my husband were loudly debating the option of writing in Kermit the Frog on their ballots rather than vote for McCain who looks like the GOP candidate with our guests and I was running around frantically, trying to get edible food on the table. It was bedlam.

By the time the guests left and dinner was cleared I noticed my thirteen year old son who had been working on his math homework the entire time slumped over face down in his open book. I sat next to him, looked at the broken pencil and bent dinner fork, and guessed it wasn't going well. "Can I help you?" I offered.

"No! This is so stupid; it is impossible. It won't do what I want it to. I hate it!"

"Well, buddy," I tried to soften his frustration, "maybe if you look at it a different way..."

"There is no other way!" He smashed his face two or three times back into the page, returning to his lifeless stance.

I lifted the book and saw percentages. I explained that the key to percentages is that "of" means its the denominator but he wouldn't believe me. So I went back over his work, most of it incorrect and showed him how to do it. After the third correct answer in the back of the book, he began to see hope that it might work out. He did a problem and got it right and then grabbed the pencil and I became to him. Less than ten minutes later he closed the book with satisfaction, finished with his impossible task and ran upstairs to catch the last of American Idol before family prayer.

What surprised me as I watched him go was how similar his experience had been to my own just the day before. I was working on a chapter about "small sins." I had a scripture I wanted to weave into a C. S. Lewis quote that totally correlated to the topic but everytime I tried to segue it together, it was AWFUL. I couldn't make it work; it just wouldn't twist and squeeze into compliance. The entire day I only produced four pages of ragged, nasty copy and when my husband got home, I felt like I was an idiot to think I could even attempt such a massive project with my addled brain.

My patient husband pulled me away from the computer and we talked about it. My problem was the same as my son's, I wasn't willing to let go of my false idea so I could let a better one enter. Greg made some other suggestions and we talked about themes of the book and the big picture and a whole new and better connection came to mind that lead to the introduction of three more quotes and life was fabulous and you couldn't tear me away from flopping out the ten fabulous pages I produced today.

Now as I look back on it, I wonder how many times I wasn't willing to let go of what I had to take in something better. How many times have I felt too busy to attend a meeting or said no to a friend who had invited me to lunch or didn't ever make a phone call I thought about but let life get in the way? I remember after I lost my baby and my father passed away just four days later I sort of shut down. One day a woman my husband worked with came over to take me to dinner. I told her I didn't want to go out but she would not let me politely say no. When we got in the car, I began by talking about my loss but she wouldn't let me. She said that it would be there when we got back but for an hour I was going to go on vacation from all that pain and have fun, and I did. When I got back, it was amazing because suddenly I wasn't still marinated in it. I realized I could be free of some of the extreme emotion that was drowning me. I hadn't realized I had that ability but once I did, it was easier.

Part of being a writer is seeing connections others don't see. They say there are no new plots, only new perspectives on the old ones. But if we don't let go every once in a while and open our minds and hearts, we can spend our whole lives trapped in the same old, same old.

Thank goodness for mothers that can do math, husbands who can put up with their crazy wives and close friends who pull us out of our comfort zones against our wills.