So many books, so little time

By Julie

Take a look at the photo below. Looks like a nice group of women, friends gathered for dinner, maybe a ladies' night out, right?

Yes, it's all that, but more. This photo, my friends, represents a powerhouse, before your very eyes.

Last weekend, I met a group of women's fiction writers at a retreat near Mt. Hood, Oregon, organized by Kristina McMorris, who is a powerhouse in one woman alone. (This photo was taken Saturday evening by our gracious server at the Timberline Lodge, the eerily perfect location where The Shining's outdoor scenes were filmed. One of us--Sarah McCoy--was missing from the shot, unfortunately, due to an earlier departure than the rest!)

Mostly, we hung out--working some, writing some, hiking some, eating a LOT. But the best part of the weekend for me was the conversation. As a writer about to be published, it was educational and enlightening to spend three concentrated days with a group of women who have mostly already been down that road. And honestly, it was refreshing for the mystique to be slightly removed from this species as I realized how much we published and "pre-published" writers are still alike in our fears and insecurities, our dreams and goals.

It was also overwhelming. But not because of these women, who were gracious and friendly and down-to-earth and made me feel like one of them the minute we finally all convened in one place at Trader Joe's to purchase supplies before we went up the mountain. (Read: wine and chocolate.)

No, it wasn't them. It was when, at several points during the weekend, I turned to new friends and said, "Isn't it overwhelming sometimes to realize how many amazing novels are out there just waiting to be published and/or read?"

We all agreed that while the Internet is an amazing tool, has opened doors wide for writers to market their books and network with readers and other writers, it can also be a cause for panic in that moment when you begin to comprehend JUST HOW MANY novels are sent into the world each and every month, to find their way into the hands of the right readers, to swim or maybe to sink--oftentimes due not to the quality of their content, but to a little bit of luck or circumstances.

It wasn't the first time I've encountered this feeling. But it was only driven home as I sat and marveled at the sheer amount of talent in this small group of nine. This powerhouse of nine.

There was Kristina McMorris, the generous hostess who organized us and contributed more to this weekend than I'd ever be able to address in a simple blog post. Kris has already published one award-winning novel, Letters from Home (which Kim featured in an interview on www earlier this year), and she has a new one waiting in the wings, Bridge of Scarlet Leaves.

Erika Robuck's second novel Hemingway's Girl comes out in 2012, and she astounded us as she talked about the research that goes into her work. (Joan interviewed her here!).

The veteran author of the weekend, Marilyn Brant, will release her third novel, A Summer in Europe, in December, and it traveled home in my suitcase as an ARC I'm already enjoying, alongside a pair of "ugly socks." (She wanted to be sure we all had this one item critical for a writing retreat!) She pairs love stories with her love of travel and all things Jane Austen.

Therese Walsh and Jael McHenry share an amazing agent with me in Elisabeth Weed. Their debut novels, The Last Will of Moira Leahy and The Kitchen Daughter, both with elements of magical realism, were published to great anticipation in the last few years, and both are already hard at work on their next stories.

Sarah McCoy is a tiny girl with a huge heart, and she sent us all home with dried Hatch Chiles. She's already published The Time it Snowed in Puerto Rico, full of setting details from her own childhood, and her next novel, The Baker's Daughter, comes out soon and is already creating quite the buzz!

Then there was Margaret Dilloway. She might be Japanese American and nearly a decade younger, but I'm pretty sure we are twin daughters from another mother. From the moment we discovered we had the same camera as we hiked along a trail together, stopping every 30 seconds to capture another detail, until we had to say goodbye, I can't count how many times we smiled and shook our heads when one or the other of us revealed another personality quirk or life experience in common. I truly believe I'll waste away before I get to read her multicultural debut novel, How to Be An American Housewife, and close on its heels, The Care and Handling of Roses with Thorns, a family drama due out next spring.

And last, but not least, I met Sarah Callender, not yet published, but agented and revising. Down in my bones, I feel sure her fascinating story will be featured in Publisher's Marketplace sometime in the very near future. In the meantime, she entertains readers with her hilarious blog posts at Inside Out Underpants. She and Margaret and I bunked in the same condo and we're already scheming our next escape from real life.

If that much talent could be gathered in one spot, how much more must there be in the world? It makes me a little nervous for my fledgling novel, Calling Me Home. But not so nervous I'd trade the experiences I've had meeting and getting to know so many marvelously talented writers since I started this journey.

Check out some of these writers who might be new to you. I added a few to my own list this weekend! But how will I ever read all these books?! So many books, so little time ...

Critique is ...

By Julie


Critique is fun.

Critique is hard.

Critique is flattering.

Critique is confusing.

Critique can be helpful.

Critique can hack you off.

Critique is thought provoking.

Critique can mess up a good scene.

Critique can really improve your writing.

I could put a stamp on this and mail it in right there, but I won’t, because that would be cheating a little on my scheduled blog post. It should be clear from those sentences alone, though, that critique can be a mixed bag.

Used correctly, it can really improve your writing. Used incorrectly, or if you end up in the wrong critique group, it can really mess things up, too.

It is not easy to find a great critique group or partner. Several of the six of us searched for years for the right group before What Women Write was formed through a providential series of events. We don’t take each other for granted and often wonder at the serendipity of it all.

During our annual retreats, we spend time several evenings reading scenes aloud and offering each other critique. In the past, we’ve offered the same service to each other over lunch. Frequently, we exchange work for feedback via email. Any way we slice it, it has been a great way for the six of us to grow our writing skills by leaps and bounds.

Instead of telling you how to form a critique group or what makes one work, I decided to use this post to paint a word picture of how ours works. (Your ideal group will likely look very different.)

First and possibly most importantly, during our retreat critique sessions, we almost always laugh.

Last year, we got the giggles as we started out whispering the love scenes we’d labored over all year and spontaneously decided to read for critique. Our landlords were unexpectedly on the premises, and we had no idea how well they could hear us through the walls of their private suite – right next to the dining room where we met. We figured they’d think we were up to no good if they could. But I’m pretty sure the whispers escalated as the wine and chocolate flowed, and eventually, we no longer gave a hoot if they thought we were reading bodice rippers out loud to amuse ourselves.

This year, we laughed so hard we cried as Elizabeth read a scene she’d composed that day using real life experience, though she apparently changed it up a bit to make it unbelievably hilarious. I suppose if any one of us hears the word sugarbugs in the future, we’ll be snorting out loud once again.

But we also gripe at Elizabeth to “SLOW IT DOWN, WOMAN!” because she reads out loud faster than the Roadrunner finds new trouble.

We holler at Joan to “SPEAK UP!” because we’re dying for her to reveal the compelling new scenes she’s created in the faraway lands she’s always writing about, but she reads so softly we can’t hear her at times!

We are baffled by Susan’s flushed face and neck, because she is really quite a confident woman and her writing is downright breathtaking.

We sigh with envy over Pamela’s soothing voice that seems to float out effortlessly as she reads from the emotionally spot-on women’s fiction she’s writing.

We marvel at Kim’s detailed research and dedication to telling her great-grandfather’s story as true as she possibly can.

And my tongue stumbles ridiculously over words, and I gag when what seemed so lovely in my head sounds like drivel when I speak it. But in the next moment, I’m overcome with emotion when my fellow writers tell me they really think I have a good thing going and forbid me from quitting.

Most of all, we trust each other.

We trust each other to take the hard stuff – no sugarcoating allowed – and not throw temper tantrums when we don’t like it.

We trust each other to take the changes we suggest and weigh them carefully to determine whether it’s just one person’s opinion or a real problem in the writing.

We trust each other to believe our words of praise; sometimes they are hard won.

We trust each other not to withhold praise or be overcritical when we are just the slightest bit jealous because one of us received a request for a full manuscript or another has written a scene so mesmerizing it makes the rest of us want to stick forks in our heads and give up.

Ultimately, we trust the group to help us little by little and bit by bit hone the rough material we’ve produced into a thing of beauty.

I’m no expert on how to form or find the perfect critique group, but I can attest that when you do find it, it’s a treasure you guard carefully.

(This picture is totally posed. You should see where we had to put the camera.)

Long live the post-retreat high

by Pamela

I woke up this morning with the same revelation I had last night: I need to bottle this state-of-mind I'm in. It's pretty close to perfect.

It's the kind of feeling you get after spending time in the company of good friends--wonderful women who inspire, motivate and encourage you.

The six of us spent Friday through Monday at a retreat in East Texas in a town that started with Frank but the ending mattered little. We descended upon our location after a rocky start. Joan forgot her laptop (but fortunately remembered before we got out of Dallas). Then she realized she didn't have the power cord either (but not before Julie left home and could bring her an extra one). And then we stopped for fuel and got busy gabbing and didn't realize the gas nozzle was overflowing due to a non-functioning shut-off feature. (The attendants pushed the van out of a puddle of unleaded.) Then we waited a while in the gas station parking lot for Susan to meet us, until I finally mentioned that I wondered what was taking so long and then someone said we were meeting her at the restaurant. Of course the restaurant served us five lunches, only one of which passed as real food...mine ;)

BUT...all was fine once we arrived at the lake home we'd call our haven for the next three blissful, carefree, child-free days. We found plenty of niches to settle into for quiet writing times, and our view of the lake changed from peaceful to inspiring to spectacular depending on what time of day we stopped for a meditative moment. The television remained off, the food and camaraderie were never lacking.

We grazed through breakfasts and lunches but dinnertime fare was planned and partnered off. Friday night Joan and I prepared pumpkin-glazed salmon and grilled steaks with pasta and crusty bread. Julie and Susan served venison lasagna (Susan's husband prepared this in advance), salad and bread. And for our last night, Kim and Elizabeth made an Asian feast of potstickers, rice, grilled chicken followed by dark chocolate covered fortune cookies.

As we read our fortunes, we decided to put a literary twist on the silly tradition of adding "in bed" to the predictions and instead added: "in the publishing world." This is how it played out for each of us. (some opened two)

Elizabeth: A fond memory will soon lead to a renewed friendship in the publishing world.
Joan: You will make many changes before settling satisfactorily in the publishing world. / Your curiosity will lead you to great achievements in the publishing world.
Julie: Remember three months from this date; Good things are in store for you in the publishing world. / Your lucky number for the week is the number two in the publishing world.
Kim: You will will attend an unusual party and meet someone important in the publishing world.
Susan: Your charm has inspired a secret admirer in the publishing world. / You will be traveling to distant lands for business purposes in the publishing world.
Pamela: You will be showered with good luck before your next birthday in the publishing world.

Each evening, after spending most of the day sequestered in solitude, we'd clear away dinner dishes and then pull out our laptops to share our writings with each other. I told Joan as we readied for bed one night, "I'd love to read a passage I've written and have each of you close your eyes, breathe a satisfied, collective sigh and tell me how gifted I am." But that would prove less than helpful. What each of us offered was encouraging but real. We critiqued in a manner that exceeded just pointing out grammatical errors or POV issues. As writers and readers--most of us quite prolific and voracious--we were able to see beyond our friendships and suggest what will make our writings that much better.

Today, the view out my window might be a little different than the serene lake images I savored over the weekend, but the encouragement and motivation remains. And even though our next retreat might be 364 days away, I can still reach out for my friends and know they are with me every step of the way.


For more photos, be sure to check out What Women Write on Facebook.com.

Retreat!

By Susan

retreat: noun. Departure. A place one goes for peace. To pull back; go away.

and my favorite:

to treat again.

It's that time of year.

We at whatwomenwrite are planning our annual fall retreat for November, and like schoolgirls we are looking forward to it with gleeful anticipation. Three days at some secluded woodsy cabin. Three days without children and spouses pulling on our hems needing... well, needing everything. Three days, most importantly, to write.

Pamela got a lot of grief over wearing red.

Last year, on our inaugural retreat, we piled into cars and headed to Glen Rose, Texas. We brought books to swap, we put dibs on roommates, and we cooked. Some of us drank wine, some of us told stories. We spent one evening devoting ourselves to the photo op you see at the header of this blog page (which was way more complicated than it looks). We shared our lives, we shared our works-in-progress, and then, as quickly as we could come together, we split up to separate spaces on the porch and in the house to do what we went for: to write.

In the evenings, we came back together over food and low light to read to each other from our glowing screens. I wrote a scene about memory--and how we shape truth by creating our own pasts. Joan wrote about a road trip through New Mexico between a great-aunt and her niece, who bear the same name. Pamela wrote a painful scene about loss and uncertainty, and Elizabeth and Julie, both in the middle of NaNo-- National Novel Writing Month--won the prize for the most words in the weekend. Kim, even through suffering from incapacitating allergies to western cedar, wrote a great verbal fight scene between her protagonist and his naysayers.

Watch your toes. Cows crossing!

This year, we are planning for a western cedar-free location. Elizabeth found a place in Oklahoma ("Do you have western cedar there? Uh, Ok. Thank you, never mind.") Then perhaps a place in east Texas. I threw my own suggestion in, the Greek Isles and a full Mediterranean tour, and everyone shouted an enthusiastic "YES", yet somehow the full economic implications set in, leaving us despondent and not mentioning Greece again.

Julie hits the porch

The best thing about retreats, however, is not only the location, but the ability to change your setting to produce different results. The chance to pull back. To go away. A place to go for peace.
And of course, my favorite aspect of retreat: to treat again.
So here's to you, my girlfriends of whatwomenwrite--let's treat ourselves again! What about you? How do you retreat? Share with us!