Once more to the Adirondacks

Summer 2024

Dear friends,

Two weeks ago, I boarded a plane (and then a very sassy rental car named Gretta Loretta) to the Adirondack Mountains for the

St. Basil Writers' Workshop

retreat. This was my second time at the Workshop retreat. Three years ago, I attended as a student, and this year, I returned as Operations Director. 

There’s an old magic in the Adirondacks, the kind you can almost see in the early morning mist on the Hudson; the kind you can almost hear when it rains inside trees; the kind that sends a tingle of joy up your spine when your Apple map says “no service.”

An old barn on the property

Of course, the people gathered here are every bit as magical as the mountains themselves. Despite being on the administrative outskirts of the group, I felt keenly that these people are my people. There’s nothing like rekindling an old love for Keats and losing bets about Byron; sharing conversations about the role of writing in grieving; and laughing around a bonfire under the stars about the complete absence of extrovert writers.

What makes St. Basil’s unique is not just the stellar instructors —

Nicholas Kotar

,

Paul Kingsnorth

,

Nicole M. Roccas

,

Jonathan Pageau

, Samira Kawash, and

Katherine Bolger Hyde

— (though they’re worth the price of admission alone); it is not just the lack of professional jealousy so common among writers; it is the camaraderie born of delighting in the work everyone is doing and in the Spirit that animates that work. 

The heart of this program is one of generosity, and I for one returned to my own Rocky Mountains greatly refreshed (despite an ER visit due to an anaphylactic reaction to “Killer Dave’s” bread!). No amount of discipline or creative play, both of which are indispensable day-to-day, can take the place of that kind of creative camaraderie.

(The above is a cute notophthalmus viridescens [aka eastern newt].)

From the Writing Desk

About a month ago, I had a major epiphany, both about how to give my novel more heart and about how to trigger my own creativity. (For anyone who’s curious, that epiphany has to do with drafting external GMC charts for EVERY character for EVERY scene, plus leaning into the dissonance between dialogue and emotions, plus dancing… yes, it’s a lot.) 

With that in mind, I am rewriting this novel one more time, and oh my goodness, does it feel different! What struck me as artificial or stiff in earlier drafts is now flowing, and there’s more tension between characters, and I’m falling in love with them all over again. 

(Here let me thank my incredible beta readers who endured some truly mediocre early drafts and provided invaluable feedback. I can’t wait for you to read my novel again and see how far it’s come!)

I’m about half way through the final draft. The one stumbling block has been the opening chapter. No matter how many times I rewrote it, I couldn’t get it right. Then, after the St. Basil Writers’ Workshop, the solution dropped into my lap!

Want to read it? I’d love to hear your thoughts!

On the Nightstand

(A.K.A. what I’m reading)

Aside from revisiting some of my favorite Keats and Shakespeare poems (see below), I actually haven’t been reading much lately (be appalled with me!). But between ramping up the writing for myself and sundry contracts, I’m prioritizing free time to remember I have a body as well as a brain. For now, that means weightlifting and training for a 5k. Baby steps, but it sure feels good to be sure-footed after breaking my foot three times last year. 

Shakespeare’s Sonnet 73

Shakespeare’s Sonnet 60

Keats’ “To Autumn”

What I love about these poems is their unabashed sincerity and the total lack of self-conscious irony that permeates so much of modern art. As my friend

Andrew Steuer

said, “The only word I can think of to describe it is courageous.” That’s exactly right. These poems are saturated in a courageous attitude toward basic human struggles and virtues–we could use a lot more of that these days. 

Carving

I’m finishing an icon I’m very excited about! I’ll share a picture soon. For now, all I can say is it’s based on an 11th-century mosaic combined with some geographically-rooted landmarks appropriate to the commission.

In lieu of an image of my work, let me recommend that you explore the work of an artist whose attention to spiritual subtlety I greatly admire:

Ewan Craig

. It turns out Ewan recently completed a residency at a program I’ve had my eye on: The Chichester Workshop! Enjoy exploring his website and Substack.