Interpretive Writing Intensive
Workshops, Ideas, & News for Interpreters Who Write

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Behind the Scenes, part 5
Anza Borrego Writing Workshop

There is no agony like having an untold story inside you. 


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Creating Stories that Make a Difference:

Advice & Guidance for Interpretive Writing and Writers

for the

Anza Borrego Foundation
Nature Writing Workshop
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Behind the Scenes, part 5:
Creating a Writing Workshop


We're into the home stretch on this multi-part series about creating writing workshops and what happens in a good one. Thanks for sticking with me--I know it's a lot of email in a short period of time, and I truly appreciate your enthusiasm.

Just another one, maybe two installments in the series before I'll shift gears for final preparation for the
Click this lovely button (it's the Anza Borrego Foundation logo) for workshop details. And remember: registration closes Friday, January 17, at midnight--so take the time now to register. Then come back here for part 5: The gift of time. Thanks!


If you've just joined us (or want to re-read the earlier parts), here's where you can find them:

part 1

part 2

part 3

part 3.5

part 4

Part 5: The gift of time

The plan was to write part 5 yesterday, but time got away from me. I'm sure I frittered some of it away--it's almost impossible not to--but that should have been counterbalanced by an early morning meeting that got cancelled, opening up an unexpected hour. Then, instead of filling those 60 minutes with a fresh rough draft, I poured in the overflow from an editing job I hadn't quite finished the day before. "It'll only take a moment," I remember thinking--and 90 minutes later, I emailed the file to the client and checked the item off my to-do list.

By that time, of course, bunches of emails had landed in my inbox, some urgent, some merely distracting, and then another meeting and errands and--

As a small business owner, I generally ignore the "5:00, go home" routine. When the sands empty from today's hourglass, I turn the glass over and work into the evening, catching up in the after-supper quiet.

But not yesterday. Yesterday, I had tickets to the Chick Corea and Bela Fleck concert at Fort Collins' Lincoln Center Performance Hall. I enjoy all kinds of music, but Ohhh, momma! I love jazz and bluegrass and banjo, and there's nobody on the planet who does it better than these guys.

There's a part of my brain (closely related, I suspect, to the evil inner editor who sometimes gets in the way of my writing) that tells me I can't quit until all my work is done, kind of like not being allowed to eat dessert until you've eaten all your lima beans, or not being allowed outside to play until your homework's done. It tells me I should "behave myself"--which always translates to sitting still and grinding through some task.

Sometimes that inner killjoy is right, but not tonight. Tonight, some deeper place in my brain knows I need to take this time for music. I need time to replenish and rejuvenate my own creative energy--and the time I spend doing so is every bit as valuable (perhaps even more valuable) as the time I spend "producing" things, whether it's finished editing work for a client or the next newsletter article.

We're in the fourth row of the mezzanine, and I am in the sweet spot, exactly centered. Bela and Chick stroll onto the stage, and half the audience is already on its feet, applauding and whistling. Bela and Chick grin at us and at each other, settle into their places, and begin.

Their economy of motion is astonishing. My husband says Chick is the "anti- Rachmaninoff"-- Rachmaninoff  attacked the keyboard in a fury of athletic pounding. Chick barely moves, and his shoulders never hunch up. If not for fingers moving so fast they're a blur, I'd claim Bela is in a deep meditative state. Perhaps he is; I know sometimes when I'm writing, I am somewhere so submersed in the writing that it is the same as meditation.

Music flows from the stage. Chick and Bela are experts unafraid to experiment, unafraid to risk something new in front of this sold-out house. They make it look so easy, but I know they've spent literally hundreds (probably thousands) of hours practicing, on their own and together.

Piano and banjo blend and balance far better than a lot of people expect. There's harmony beyond harmony, multilayered, multifaceted, like the best writing, the best stories. I strain to identify which riff is banjo, which is piano. Who leads? Who follows? It's impossible to tell; just when I think I've got it figured out, it changes, music from one winding and unwinding, chasing and being chased by the other, a seamless back and forth. My mind, ever on writing, says, "like the best writer-editor pairings."

There's humor, too, both between the two musicians and in the music they're creating. They fool around, yes, for the fun of it, but with purpose, for a reason, too. Sometimes the fun stuff gets ridiculous and silly; just as often, it emerges as something profound or startling or wondrous.

I remember a workshop attendee once admonished me for a writing exercise I'd assigned. If my boss knew I would be spending my time writing an "elder letter," she would never let me come; she'd say it was a waste of time, she complained. But I knew that taking the time to fool around with this exercise would open up surprising creative breakthroughs, as well as teach her about point of view in an unusual--and wonderfully effective--way. The exercise wasn't a waste of anything. It was a kind of improv, a literary jam session; scary, surprising every time, new every time.

I listen with my whole body. I write with my whole body, too. How could I not? Bela and Chick capture entire universes in half a heartbeat of sound; should I spend my time striving for anything less?

Back in high school and for a while in college, I was a pretty decent violinist, but I haven't played for years. No time to practice, other things always more important, or at least more urgent. I spend a lot of time writing (practicing) and thinking about writing (which is another kind of practicing). I'm a lot better writer today than I am a violinist.

If you'd known me when I was in high school, you might have thought I was equally talented in music and language, fiddle and story-making, and maybe I was. But the one I excel in is the one I spend time practicing. During intermission, the woman seated next to me comments on how much time Chick and Bela must spend practicing. I agree and find myself wondering if anyone ever says to them, "You can practice anytime--you should do everything else now, instead; you can always practice later."

Because that's something writers hear a lot, and we buy into that belief. In our busy lives, "later" is never "now." And if "later" never becomes "now," we will never write. Our stories will collect dust like my old violin in its cracked plastic case. On the rare days when we dare to open the case, our pen scrapes the page in unpracticed caterwauling that no amount of rewriting and editing will remedy.

Find the time. Invent it, steal it, put it in your pocket to take out at lunchtime. Come to the nature writing workshop (make the time to come), go to a different workshop, gather a group to protect and defend the borders of your sacred writing time.

And write.

Key takeways I build into my workshop
  • Writing requires practice.
  • Practice requires time.
  • Time requires both the willingess to commit and a safe space where time for writing is expected and highly valued.
Next: part 6: Diving in.

Give yourself time to write at the Anza Borrego Foundation Nature Writing Workshop
--but don't time-out!
Registration closes at midnight Friday, January 17, 2014.
Click the ABF logo below for workshop details and to register.



'Til next time--
Judy

Comments? Questions?
970/416-6353
email Judy

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 NATURE WRITING WORKSHOP
sponsored by the
Anza Borrego Foundation 

Sunday, Jan. 26, 2014 (afternoon)
through
Thursday night, Jan. 30, 2014
(with optional group gathering Friday morning,
Jan. 31, before check-out)

Palm Canyon Resort
Borrego Springs, CA
 (about 2 hours east of San Diego)

Give your writing a boost in 2014!

Join the Anza Borrego Foundation (ABF) and Palm Canyon Resort for a 4-1/2 day writing workshop led by Judy Fort Brenneman. Over the course of the workshop, you'll go on 2 field trips, have daily workshop sessions with different topics of focus, an optional one-on-one session with Judy, and time to write, reflect, and explore.

Unlike conferences where you only talk about writing, at the ABF nature writing workshop,
you'll write.
  • Whether you write poetry or prose, nonfiction or fiction--
  • Whether you're sure you're a "nature writer" or not sure what "nature writing" really is--
  • Whether you're a beginner or a long-time story-maker--
You'll venture deeper into your writing, making more progress than you thought possible in such a short time.

WORKSHOP & LODGING DETAILS HERE.

REGISTER HERE

STILL HAVE QUESTIONS?

Email Judy or call 970/416-6353.



Palm Canyon Resort Hotel
Palm Canyon Resort, Borrego Springs, CA

About the Instructor: Judy Fort Brenneman is an award-winning author, essayist, and playwright as well as a popular writing workshop leader and writing coach. Through her company, Greenfire Creative, LLC, she helps people, agencies, and organizations tell their stories. To learn more, visit our website or contact Judy
by email:  judyb@greenfire-creative.com
or by phone: 970/416-6353



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Palm Canyon Resort hotel photograph courtesy Palm Canyon Resort. All other content and photographs copyright © Judy Fort Brenneman. Request reprint permission through Greenfire Creative, LLC.