CHEERS!

Crystal vision lollygags over past failures.
Happiness demands focus on future promise.
Effervesce. Your bubbles pop in lives around you.
Expect happiness.
Rejoice in small things.
Savor friends.
!

To all the writers whose works and friendship have enriched my life, shored up my sagging spirits, allowed their effervescence to bubble over me, I wish a new year full of vision, creativity, joy and good health. Happy New Year!

Perky

St. George Island in My Rear View Mirror

The last time I posted here, I wrote of my excitement about the upcoming St. George Island Writers' Retreat. Now here we are, two weeks since the retreat ended, and I'm so focused on the memory that I'm having a hard time moving forward again.

The writers--nine attended--were smart, creative, kind, funny, talented (picture me shaking my head in awe, here)--and some revealed their talents as fabulous cooks, preparing meals to live on in memory.

Adrian Fogelin fed our writers' souls with workshops and exercises that stretched our minds the way her evening floor routine stretched cramped muscles. We listened, we bent our brains in new ways, and then we wrote. After we'd written, we marveled at what came from our minds after their contents had been manipulated and moved around. And we delighted in what different directions each woman around the table had taken each exercise. The heady sense of freedom generated by being able to set our own courses seemed to ignite little embers of worry in many of us, causing us to question the tack we had taken. Many announced to the group before reading their new work aloud, "Well, this isn't any good, but...." Exercising freedom is scary.

But it was good. Even the work that needed editing and rewriting was good. Everything we did led us forward to a greater understanding of what works and what needs to be improved. That's progress.

Over our time together at the beautiful beach view retreat site of Abbeyfeale, friendships were created or reinforced, group jokes were hatched and a support network was formed. As always, I was sad when the retreat came to an end (but could I have lasted another day with five hours of sleep?), but full of happy memories, new skills and inspiration. Some photos have been posted on our Fiction Among Friends Facebook page, and I'll be updating my web pages soon with pictures, feedback and recipes.

I know I can't forever stare into the rear view mirror or I'll stray off course, but a glance now and then reminds me of a wonderful retreat that I'll savor and draw on repeatedly. Thanks, all.

Countdown for St. George Island Writers' Retreat

Next Wednesday I'll be jaunting up to the Florida Panhandle, about three and a half hours away, and as I drive north, then west, I'll feel the daily humdrum slough away. One by one I'll tick off the towns along the route; Fanning Springs, Old Town, Cross City....Steinhatchee...Perry......don't forget to veer west there onto 98....enough wilderness and coastline to charm and pull me onward. The highway hugs the coast around Carrabelle; getting close; then it's Eastpoint, and time to turn off the main drag and head out to the Island. After the initial flurry of unloading the car and unpacking totes and coolers of groceries and other supplies for the retreat, I'll be eager for the arrival of our mentor Adrian Fogelin (see thumbnail photo at left) and all the writers who've signed up for this year's adventure.

Ten of us will settle in for four days of workshops and writing. Most of us have a work in progress, so between the workshops we'll hole up to see if we can forge ahead with our projects, or perhaps double back and fix a trouble spot--often after consulting with Adrian.

Our group is diverse, having walked various paths in life -- journalism, small business, homemaking, teaching and other professional careers. The writing we do ranges from general fiction to history to mystery to memoir. Some are struggling to find a beginning to a work, while others are plowing on to end a work or polish a finished draft. Some unabashedly say they are coming hoping to learn how to cultivate self-discipline in their writing. Diversity aside, there is a unity of purpose that unites us. We all want to learn, and we want that shared sense of purpose the retreat promises. Together we'll commiserate over plot snarls and roadblocks, and rejoice over each victory, each landmark passed.

I've been revising the first three chapters of my very rough first attempt at a mystery, trying to whip them into good enough shape to serve as a foundation for the work I want to do next week. I've introduced the characters and am fine-tuning details of the setting. I have a pretty good hunch about what the crime will be and "whodunit".

Will I get it all down on paper? Can I make all of the threads twist into a believable, engaging plot? I'll have to answer that next week, after the retreat. That is, unless you are planning to attend, in which case I'll tell you there. Oh -- you haven't signed up? Get in touch. There's room for one more.

You know you're getting old when...

Yes, I know. This could be the longest blog post in history. Could be, but won't be, because I'll need my nap pretty soon.

Seriously, I looked at yesterday's mail and was assaulted by an envelope. There, on the top of the wad of stuff that passes for correspondence, perched a letter from The Scooter Store. The Scooter Store! I couldn't believe it. Did they think I was old or something?

I assessed the situation. Well, sure, I had spent part of the previous evening with the latest issue of AARP on my lap, reading an article in which Kristen Bell, Jamie Lee Curtis and Betty White shared advice about aging. I identified best with Betty White's remarks. Hmmm. Betty White.... And when did AARP, replace my Grisham novels, anyhow?

What else was in the mail? Oh, perfect--two pitches to change my health insurance plans. Change them? Not likely! I still bear scars from having to wade through all that paperwork when I approached my 65th birthday -- not that all the "wading" did a lot of good. In the end, desperate to make a decision--ANY decision--I played what I call Medicare-meeney-miney-moe, arbitrarily picking a plan and tossing around big words like "deductible" and "co-pay" to justify my decision. It had all the science of throwing a dart at at target and being satisfied if it landed somewhere on the wall. Why can't health insurance selection for seniors be easy? We old folks confuse easily, you know.

And don't even think of getting me started talking about long term care insurance (yup, did that, too) or the dreaded "doughnut hole" in prescription coverage. Being a senior citizen is not for sissies, indeed.

And how about that term "senior citizen"? Remember when being a "senior" was something to anticipate with pleasure, the year you'd attend your senior prom and later parade across the auditorium stage wearing a robe and mortarboard, diploma clutched in hand? Anticipate being a senior citizen? Not so much.

You know you're getting old when you can get fired up talking about health insurance before most people half your age have had their first cup of coffee. Me, I'd had three before I even penned the first line of this post.

You know you are getting old when a New York Times article by Sandra Day O'Connor and others, called "The Age of Alzheimer's", reminds you that you now are in the age bracket of those whose chance of developing Alzheimer's doubles every five years. The article, concise and powerful, clearly describes what the US must do to prevent the dire future these numbers portend. I encourage you to look it up. It's not pleasant reading, but remember, we aren't sissies.

Much of the remainder of my day will be spent writing and preparing for an upcoming writers' retreat. But, before I do anything else, I'm going to snatch up that letter from The Scooter Store, toss it into the recycle bin and then plot a few other acts of senior disobedience.

St. George Island Writers' Retreat 2010

NOVEMBER 10 - 14, 2010
I can't wait--white sand sparkling, sunlight dancing on surf, shrimp boats plying through gentle waves...the perfect backdrop for four days of glorious writing, of putting all other distractions on hold. I am SO ready for the retreat to begin.

We have a super group this year. As always, Adrian Fogelin, award-winning author of over seven young adult works, will be our author in residence. She will lead workshops and feedback sessions, offer private consultations, advice and encouragement. We'll have large blocks of writing time, too, so plan on making significant advances with your personal work-in-progress. The experience is magical.

Six of us who have attended one or more times in the past (this is our fifth year at St. George Island) will be there, laptops and dog-eared novel or memoir drafts in tow, and three new writers are on board, too--a great mix of interests and experience. We can fit in two more writers, but after that I have to close registrations and will be able to place interested writers on a waiting list only.

We check in at beautiful Abbeyfeale (a spacious private home overlooking the Gulf of Mexico) the afternoon of November 10 and stay through Sunday the 14th. If you are on the fence about signing up, do visit my website to look over the information and photos, and email or phone with questions or concerns. Hope to see you at the retreat.

You know you've been too busy when...

The summer of 2010 saw the arrival of three trains weekly at Thurman Station, and, as president of the Thurman Station Association, I was involved in helping to create and publicize special activities in Thurman to attract and entertain rail passengers. Added to my other regular activities, it made for one crazy summer, with way too much stuffed into my volunteer schedule. Not only did I not blog, I let myriad other things slip between the cracks of my life, as well. I've finally found a few minutes to reflect on that crazy busy-ness, and the impact it had on me:

You know you've been too busy when your "short" hair cut is curling down around your collar and you realize it has been three months since you felt you could afford twenty minutes to sit down and have it cut.

You know you've been too busy when the pile of documents to be dealt with on your desk teeters above the screen of your open laptop and threaten to topple down onto it.

You know when you listen intently to a story your spouse is telling and realize moments later that not one word pierced your brain --- which was focused on that teetering pile.

You know when you forget to eat, to sleep, to go to the bathroom.

When you forget what file you were just about to open, whose number you were about to dial, what face belongs to the name on the page in front of you.

I knew best yesterday, when I sat down to work and suddenly was flooded with the awareness there was nothing -- NOTHING -- that I needed to do right away for any of those volunteer projects. It took a few minutes to fully realize that I had time to.....to what? I'd almost forgotten the alternatives.

I had time (not unlimited, but time, nonetheless) to phone a friend. Time to listen to some music and plug a few pieces into a jigsaw puzzle on the coffee table. Time to pull up a piece of fiction I wanted to noodle around with before my next writers' retreat.

Time to share a few thoughts with you in this long-neglected blog.

I've missed that.

Till soon,
Perky

Fiction Among Friends ~ A busy summer

Whoever coined that expression "lazy, hazy days of summer" didn't live in a small Adirondack town. As those of you who check in on this blog from time to time have noticed, it has been months since I've jotted a line here.

Chalk it up to Thurman and the myriad activities bubbling away here. I haven't stopped running since we returned home in April. Thurman Townwide Sale, Thurman Station Farmers' Market and Thurman Station Association's new projects (I'll blog more about those soon) have swallowed half of my waking hours. The work has been challenging, interesting and rewarding, so who can complain?

I have, however, enjoyed spending time organizing events for Fiction Among Friends, the "business" name under which I play with planning events for writers. The first was a writing workshop at Thurman Town Hall on June 19th. A good group of writers turned out, and we spent an enjoyable day working together on fleshing out characters and learning about publishing options--and all that goes with publication of a work.

The Second Thursday Readings at Willows Bistro, 3749 Main Street, Warrensburg, NY, have really taken off. Now in our second year, thanks to the hospitality of proprietor Debbie Swan, the list of so-called "Bistro Readers" boasts over forty members, most of whom have read for our group one or more times. The next session will be July 8th, when we welcome writer/poet Pedro Ponce from Canton, NY, where he teaches writing at St. Lawrence University, and Charles Watts of Lake Placid, a former TV scriptwriter now writing short fiction. If you are in the Warrensburg area July 8, stop in for the program at 7. The public is welcome at no charge. Desserts and beverages will be available.

On Thursday, July 29th Willows Bistro and Fiction Among Friends will host writer/poet/teacher Irene Sherlock's 5 p.m. memoir-based workshop to be followed about 6:30 by a delicious Willows Bistro dinner. The cost of this offering is $20 (including the dinner!), but you must preregister for the workshop and pre-order the dinner, both through me--no later than July 22, please. Irene is an amazing teacher. Visit my website for details and to read comments from former students and workshop attendees. Email me from the site to sign up, and mail your check to 11 Clarence Russell Road, Warrensburg, NY 12885. I'll email to ask your choice of entrees. After dinner Irene will present a reading, followed by readings by RayLene Corgiat and Gail Huntley. It will be a fine evening.

More is on tap for Fiction Among Friends, but I'll save that for my next post (soon, I promise), along with some exciting news.

Till then, all my best,
Perky