My assignment at 7 p.m. last night was to sleep for a few hours then awake and post here.
It’s 4:30 a.m.
Ahem.…that’s a little later than planned. Yet, the last 9.5 hours marked my best sleep of the past two weeks. And I’m still groggy. As in my body’s not done with its 40 winks tonight/this morning.
There’s a message here: my body needs a major rest. Two stimulating weeks involving a 1300-mile road trip and an hyper-invigorating writing retreat will cry out for good sleep at some point. That point came last night.
But…it’s my turn to post on RoadBroads. I promised Ellen.
I arise out of commitment, devotion, and frustration. Continued sleep will elude until the third necessary is answered.
Thus, dear reader, I offer preliminary pictures from yesterday’s Denver excursion. They provide partial explanation for the good-tired.
Tattered Cover in Denver: more stacks than any reader can count.Take a guess: how many new books are stuffed in this one sack?Done lingering, aunt and niece head to the ice cream stand, walking toward Denver’s handsome skyline.Olinger mortuary become Linger restaurant when new owners blacked out the “O.”
Linger Restaurant was a must-stop for a pair of ladies with a Memphis funeral business in the family heritage. We refilled our water from brown bottles once used for organ storage and ordered drinks from an old metal patient chart. Toe tags used to mark the drinks but they were gone yesterday. Too macabre a memory for some? I missed that part of the adventure.
It’s back to bed I go, the call of duty answered, potential guilt assuaged.
The CPAP lets a snore machine sleep well.
Tomorrow — oops, make that today’s — post will focus on my learnings from a writing retreat. First is how to manage this ongoing body-mind hum.
There is nothing like the weather and scenery of Boulder to provide inspiring places for meeting and getting inspired about writing. I have already written about the Boulder Bookstore.
Now I have had a meeting with my writing coach on the patio of the Dushanbe Teahouse sipping fresh brewed teas while surrounded by beautiful roses.
What isn’t inspirational in that kind of a setting? Of course it helps that I finally have a solid story outline, I know where the story begins, where it ends, and what has to happen in between. Now all l have to do is start filling in all of the spaces and ideas I have outlined. It is very energizing to get to this point. Before this, my story was just this amorphous blob of an idea that sat in my mind without a good form. On with the first draft!
After my meeting at the Teahouse, I could not help but walk along the park and soak in the beautiful Boulder surroundings.
I keep taking pictures of the Flatirons as if I am afraid that they will disappear before I have admired them enough. It also helps that once I leave the park I know I am welcomed in Boulder because they have special crossing signs just for people like me. The good news is not everyone in Boulder is 20-something and climbing mountains every day. Some of us just want to go for a walk in the park and cross the street safely.
Tonight I did get my chance at reading at the salon. I picked out a selection that I wrote several years ago. I dusted it off, re-wrote, and edited several spots. The good news is that when I look at pieces I wrote several years ago, I can see that I have in fact grown as a writer. I have had a wonderful teacher in Max Regan and a wonderful writing support group in Houston. I felt good about my reading tonight and I received some very good feedback from the other attendees. It all inspires me to keep moving forward with my creative work.
But first, I need another good night of sleep and I have been sleeping really great in all of this clean mountain air!
Late yesterday, I learned an essay I wrote is a finalist in a national Creative NonFiction Essay contest. From more than 200 submissions, 37 entries were chosen finalists. Oh yeah, friend, it’s major buzz time.
Finalist notification letter about Boulder-based essay
It gets better. Call it the woo-woo factor.
The essay in question involves an incident that occurred in Boulder, at a Max Regan writing retreat, seven years ago this week.
Add that I learned the news while in Boulder, at a Max Regan writing retreat, only one day after visiting the location where the essay unfolded. I shiver.
Imagine a traumatized golden retriever in this picture.
Do you remember the blog mention two days ago of my search at the Trident Cafe? My search centered around an abused dog, an old lady, and a coward.
Seven years ago, cobalt blue draped everything in an eerie blanket of communal color: bands, straps, leashes, and booties engulfing Dylan the golden retriever.
Only two days ago did I notice the cobalt blue of the awning, the Trident logo, and, in a softer blue — always, the sky.
Besides weird timing, I’ve relearned several other things about the writing life in the past 24 hours.
One is, foremost, persistence.
I’ve worked on this essay for seven long years. It’s been through more drafts and readings than I will admit publicly. It’s been rejected by magazines (both on- and off-line) multiple times.
But I kept polishing this essay because it felt important, universal. Such bigness demands a big audience, I believed. What writers’ essays demand, I learned, is persistent effort. And patience.
Secondly, I’ve learned that what I experienced in my broadcast news days also applies to the writing life. You’ve got to start small, gain your chops, and work your way up the publishing ladder. That’s rarely the truth any writer — young, old, or in-between — wants to hear, especially in our get-it-now-or-get-lost culture. Slow down, writers, and learn your craft. And, always — be easy on yourself. Max preaches the same. Now, I’m listening. In a new way.
If nothing more develops of this particular essay — as in I end up #37 on the finalist list for this contest — I carry away the call for continued persistence and slow-small-steady progress. The simplicity of the message is sweet. And easy to pursue.
I celebrated today’s news with a dear friend, a tasty lunch, and a shopping trip to the Tennyson neighborhood of Denver. For the first time, RoadBroad’s chauffeur became a passenger — nice!
Today became mix-it-up day. We had no retreat classes, by design. Why not try a different city, different restaurants, different bookstores — an altogether different approach? BookBar whispered, thanks to a writer friend’s recommendation. Its theme says buy a book, drink a vino.
I did neither. Instead I bought a clever set of writer notecards plus a pair of map earrings. Do you hear the RoadBroads clapping? After my purchase, I turned around and left. Leaving the writer notecards on the counter.
BookBar bookstore: for books and wine, in that order (for some of us).Little maps of tiny towns cover quirky earrings. Perfect for a RoadBroad!
Oh, no! Guess who now must return to the BookBar? Who knows what else she can buy? Books maybe?
Of course, she’ll be wearing her new pair of RoadBroads earrings.
Today was about the dogs. They showed up twice in 20 minutes.
The first dog sighting came in a quick stop on a goat hunt. Ellen swears Diana and I resemble bouncing mountain goats. Have you seen them? They’re the Internet-famous baby goats hopping around an Alpian farm. When I heard of Boulder’s Laughing Goats cafe, I had to find out if I fit in. Plus get a picture of the goats for Ellen. Maybe I could hop and laugh?
Dogs like goats? Or is it only a water thing?
Instead, I found this.
The dog bowl would seem a disappointment. Instead, I saw a thread.
Writers are, among other things, seamstresses. We search for threads with which to sew a story. Sometimes those threads come from multiple places.
After the Laughing Goat, I had one more thread to find.
I walked to the Trident Cafe in search of a real-life dog.
In 2011, I witnessed the heroic Dylan. That’s what I dubbed the golden retriever mix who stumbled down the sidewalk then stopped in front of the Trident Cafe. Make that “was stopped at the cafe.” Dylan was draped in a complicated contraption of leashes, harnesses, collars, and dog boots–all colored a cruel cobalt blue. I watched for several painful minutes as his master tugged, dragged, and yanked her dog down the sidewalk before shoving him against the Trident’s outside wall. Dylan laid against the brick building and baked in the sun as his owner went inside the cafe. I watched, horrified. Then walked away. Seven years later, the images — and my choice — haunt.
In planning this writing retreat, I had an odd mission to look for Dylan. Call it one of those things. This time, I’d do the right thing.
The Trident today held no Dylan, of course. Waiting instead was cobalt blue:
Cobalt blue haunts Trident Cafe dog.
Logo. Awning. Sky.
I am glad Dylan was gone. I pray he’s out of pain, no longer defined by cobalt blue.
The Dylan story and all this rambling about dogs and goats in a writer’s life must strike you as weird. If so, I am glad. Because that’s the job of a writer. To make others uncomfortable. Stories do that as we novelists and essayists and others of the writing life gather threads to create stories that impact your life somehow.
Interesting that this shirt chose me this morning. Upon awakening, I lacked full understanding of the importance surrounding today’s mission. The t‑shirt’s words best explain this seamstress metaphor.
Weird People. Writers. Artists. Dreamers. Outsiders. Pretty Special People. Can I say that?
I only sought a goat and a dog, never knowing I’d end up with two dogs and a blog post. And a really strange tale about the writing life.
Sherlock would be delighted my dedicated efforts at observation.
A pocket watch, a turtle, and an elephant walk into a bar.…..wait, that’s not right.
What do a pocket watch, a turtle, and an elephant have in common? I have no idea…yet…but I am using them as writing prompts.
So goes the beginning of our writing retreat which meets in the wonderful Boulder Bookstore.
After our first meeting on Saturday, I spend Sunday morning at the townhouse getting inspired by my three prompts. Finally, the words begin to flow and I am ready for class this afternoon. I also work on story outlines and plot points. I am ready to head out to class.
My roommates already left for their class. Everyone at the retreat is divided into three groups. Melanie and Diana are in the same group (maybe I am a little jealous not to be with them?). Oh well, we will be in some of the same writing groups when we return to Houston.
I enjoyed the few hours I have by myself at the townhouse. I am finally beginning to adjust to both the Boulder altitude and sharing house with two roommates. All three of us have been friends for a while now but have never roomed together before. Three strong, independent, assertive women. We all know what we want and how we want the universe to revolve. It is inspiring to see us adjust to each other. We are dedicated to our writing and to supporting other women writers. The room may be too cold for one or too hot for the other, but we don’t lose focus on why we are here. RoadBroads Unite!
I Uber to the bookstore. Now I’ve Ubered twice in two days. That makes me a pro. I even tipped Howard, the driver.
I walk along the Pearl Street Mall enjoying the shops and all the people. Each block seems to have its own street performer. Guitar players, drum players, even one guy standing on top of a ladder while juggling. The day felt festive.
I stop at one of the many coffee shops to get coffee and water to take with me to class. Then I enter the bookstore, walk up the stairs to the second floor and make my way back to our meeting spot in the middle of the religious/spiritual book section.
Max Regan lectures on different aspects of writing. Several of us read our writing assignments and get good solid feedback. The two hours fly by quickly and class is over.
It is now time to head out for dinner and our first salon. I walk the four blocks to the location of the salon to find a wonderful spread of salad, breads, cheeses, sliced veggies and more. There was fruit for dessert which included some of the best fresh mango I have had in a long time.
We will have several of these salon meetings during the retreat so that every writer shares some of their work with the entire group. Melanie read tonight and did a masterful job. I take a turn at reading next Thursday. I hope I can be as good as Melanie. She has set the bar very high.
Now back at the townhouse, the day is over. I am exhausted but pleased with that I have accomplished today.
Start a blog for the road trip part of your Colorado writing retreat. Then use your earned knowledge and skills for the later novel road trip.
After a lifetime as a hired writer for others’ words, I’m shoulder-deep in my first novel. It’s a classic journey story about a woman who hits the road to reconnect with old college friends. She finds them — and, of course, herself — along the way.
I’ve been working on this novel for nearly 11 years now. Here’s a sampling of what’s accumulated:
Two of five piles: more eek! Eek! Here’s h‑a-l‑f the jump drives that contain my WIP.
And that’s only part of it. Real Life got in the way. During one five-year period, my extended family experienced a hospitalization or a funeral, on average, every three months. Non-stop. Did I mention that 14 of those hospitalizations involved me and my brain?
Writing fell victim to healing. Despite the lengthy interruption and massive accumulation, I return to writing with a goal of novel completion this year. The plan includes this blog in that strategy.
Learn how to blog on a road trip. Make this fun. Keep it relaxed, and easy. As relaxed and easy as WordPress can be.
Write like a fiend. Remember, everything on the road is a potential blog post, be it words, photos, or video.
Report like a wise version of the reporter you used to be. Seek the unique in whatever form it manifests.
Observe, observe, observe.
Demonstrate what a founding member of the RoadBroads does. Prove it can be done.
