TWO NEW RESIDENTIAL RETREATS OPEN:
NEW JERSEY, USA,
AND ENGLAND
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We are proud to announce the
opening of a year-round residential retreat in beautiful Cape May, New Jersey,
and delighted to welcome Dana Walrath, on-site mentor.
Situated
on the quiet fringe of the country’s oldest beach town, the Writers’
Retreat at Cape May offers sanctuary to
writers and artists seeking serenity and renewal. Cape May is located at
the southernmost tip of New
Jersey. The lovingly maintained and fully
equipped two-bedroom cottage is just a few minutes by foot or by bicycle to
a gorgeous beach that arcs inland and westward to the Cape
May lighthouse.
On-site mentor, Dana
Walrath, holds a BA in fine arts from Barnard
College, a PhD in anthropology
from the University of Pennsylvania, and an MFA in creative writing from
Vermont College. She is the author of a
best-selling introductory anthropology textbook, has recently finished a
novel, and an illustrated memoir. She has exhibited works of art in Vermont, New York,
and Los Angeles.
She currently mentors creative writing students at Vermont College.
For more information,
please contact Dana Walrath via e-mail at dana.walrath@uvm.edu or The Writers’ Retreat at Cape May, New Jersey.
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We are proud to announce the
opening of a first residential
retreat in Byworth, West Sussex,
England, and delighted to welcome Daniela Manutius-Forster, on-site mentor.
The
Writers’ Retreat in Byworth, West Sussex, England,
gives you an opportunity to live and write in a wonderful spacious house,
dating back to 1470 in the countryside of West Sussex.
Residents will enjoy the spacious rooms and privacy and nearly one acre of secluded
gardens and a small pond near the top of the garden.
On-site mentor Daniela Manutius-Forster holds a
BA in fine arts from Southwestern University in Georgetown,
Texas, a master's degree in Film Studies
from Columbia University,
New York, and years of
experience as creative coach and motivational speaker. Daniela is currently
working on a novel, and she is in the last stages of her illustrated memoir.
She has exhibited works of art in Germany and America, is Ambassador of
Mariposa's Visionary Club, and currently mentors young writing students and
writers that are stuck, blocked, feeling lost in their process. She will
welcome you at her retreat starting in April 2011.
For more information, please contact Daniela
Manutius-Forster
via e-mail at daniela.manutius.forster@gmail.com or The Writers’ Retreat in Sussex, England.
MY
COURAGEOUS AUTHOR
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By Denise DiPietro
I am an editor.
My husband, a writer.
Numerous times during our life
together, I would hear him say, “Sleeping with your editor is not always a
good idea.” Then he would turn and smile at me.
We had a wonderful life
together—thirty years this month—until last January when tragedy struck. My
husband was diagnosed with a malignant brain tumor. He fought a courageous
fight for eleven months, and on November 17, 2010, he passed away having
fulfilled his dream. Exactly one month from his passing, his action-packed
thriller, Greed, A Love Story, by
Douglas Beach, debuted.
I am proud to announce that
Doug’s novel has already won two iUniverse publisher awards: an Editor’s
Choice Award and the prestigious Rising Star designation. These awards were
based on the excellent quality of the writing, his worthy credentials, the
topic and timeliness of the book, noteworthy marketing and sales potential,
and our sincere commitment to its success.
If we meet our goal of 500 book
sales, commissioned sales reps will march into national retail, wholesale,
and independent brick-and-mortar stores to assure placement on the shelves,
and the book will be accessible to traditional publishers.
Our marketing plan is aggressive
and clever. Along with Internet cafes, on-line bookstores, customer
reviews, and literary links, we have secured vendor permits to sell the
novel on the beaches in and around Zihuatanejo,
Mexico, our
home. Our pup Luz will wear a handmade book bag with pockets containing
Doug’s novel. One side flap reads, “Barking Up the Write Tree,” the other
side, “The perfect Beach read.” Two book
presentations at predominant, local restaurants are scheduled; a review in
the local magazine, Another Day in
Paradise, and the novel will be
available at various social gatherings and events in Zihuatanejo.
Our shameless plug: should you,
dear subscribers, have friends, writers, readers, co-workers, and fellow
colleagues who take pleasure in reading an adventure story with a sense of
western flair, dry humor, an honest romance, and finally, redemption, Greed, A Love Story is to be shared.
Please pass along this newsletter.
Dreams are to be realized, and
I wish to make my husband’s dream come true by hitting our magic sales number
of 500.
So maybe sleeping with your
editor is not such a bad idea after all.
Copies of Greed,
A Love Story are available at:
Amazon.com
iUniverse.com
BarnesandNoble.com
Borders.com
Doug’s blog site: http://doug-zihuatanejobayfishing.blogspot.com
Denise DiPietro can be reached at icopyeditu@yahoo.com
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YOUR
WRITING CAN FLOW: Four Easy Steps
to Getting Unstuck
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By Cindy Barrilleaux
Being stuck as a writer feels horrible. Ideas and
words stop flowing and dread replaces enthusiasm. Usually, these periods
are short-lived and not a cause for concern. But when writing feels like
slamming your head against a brick wall, you have a writing block. Rather
than forcing your way through the process or give up on writing, try the
technique below. It works.
If you want to write, you should be free to pour your thoughts onto the page. Being
stuck blocks that freedom. Having worked with writers for more than
twenty-five years, I have developed this brief, four-step exercise to get
unstuck and release writing blocks. This exercise has consistently freed
writers from the grip of a block
Step One:
Find the Source of the Block
We all have an inner critic that sounds like our
own voice in our head muttering harsh, critical things about us. The inner
critic’s messages about your writing, such as “Just give it up,” can block
your natural, creative expression and make writing painful or impossible.
Once you know the source of the block—the inner
critic—you are no longer helpless. So the first step is recognizing the
source of the block.
Step Two: Notice the Language of the Critic
You may not notice the critic’s attacks until you
simply can’t write. So next, you need to sharpen your awareness of the
critic at work. This step, developed from a technique suggested by writing
teacher Heather Sellers, works wonders.
For a week, each time you write, record on a
separate page the critical thoughts you hear in your mind. Interrupt
yourself each time you hear
criticism. For instance, your critic may say:
Somebody else has written this and better.
Who do you think you are trying to write a book?
You don’t have what it takes to be a writer.
At the rate you’re writing, you’ll never finish.
It doesn’t matter what you hear, write it down.
Yes, it’s a nuisance to stop each time, but it’s effective. Soon, the
critical voice will soften and become less insistent. More important, you
now are ready to take the next two steps.
Step Three: Get to Know Your Inner Critic
It’s easy to dislike someone you don’t know. Yet,
as you get to know them, compassion and friendliness arise. The same is
true with your inner critic. This step will transform your relationship
with your inner critic. You’ll need paper, pen, and uninterrupted time.
Sit quietly with your eyes shut. Think of the most
painful messages the inner critic has you with. Now, have an inner conversation with your
critic and write down the questions and answers. (This may sound hokey, but
trust me it works.)
Ask questions that shed light on the inner
critic’s purpose and expectations, such as:
What is your purpose in my life?
What are you afraid of about my writing?
Why are you angry when I write?
How can I help you feel calm while I write?
Many people I have worked with ask their inner
critic, “How old are you?” And many find that the inner critic is quite
young. That can be helpful in developing the relationship.
Have an attitude of curiosity and make sure you
actually listen for the response
rather than guess what it is. If the critic voices a fear, respond
compassionately. You may need to reassure your critic that what you write
in your first, second, or even third drafts won’t be seen by anyone except perhaps a writing
coach you trust. With that reassurance, the critic often relaxes.
Step Four: Become Allies with the Inner Critic
This final step can change your writing life
forever. Take a few minutes for another brief conversation with the inner
critic. Assure your critic that you need its critical capacities during the
final stages of your writing. Ask your critic if it is willing to reserve
its criticism until that stage of the work. (It’s important that you see
the real value of this. Faking this just doesn’t work.) Then listen to and
record the critic’s response.
You’ll be surprised by how readily your inner
critic responds to your need for a new kind of help. You’ll feel the
internal pressure and anxiety dissolve.
Follow these steps and you will feel a new confidence in your
writing. And when you hear critical messages again, revisit the steps and
renew the alliance. Your creativity will soar in the peace and quiet of
your new writing life.
Cindy Barrilleaux has coached and edited nonfiction writers
around the world for more than twenty-five years. Besides her work with
individuals, she leads writing groups by phone, teaches teleseminars on
writing and getting published, and conducts weekend writing retreats in New Mexico. For more
information and to learn about her Introductory Special Offer, visit her
website at www.WriteYourBest.com or
e-mail Cindy at Cindy@writeyourbest.com
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WHAT DOES IT
TAKE TO WRITE THAT BOOK?
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By Charlyne Meinhard
If you travel in the National Speakers Association
(NSA) circles for any length of time, you’ll have the opportunity to meet,
hear, and read words from incredible people who are keenly aware that they
have a unique message to share. Not just aware, these folks are committed
to learning how best to share that message. The first way they share is
through speaking, and speaking feels right … freeing … exhilarating.
Sometimes, the person has survived a traumatic
experience and having made it to the other side, realizes that others can
benefit from her story. Sometime, the person finds himself in a bizarre or
outrageous situation, and the shear impossibility of it all propels him to
tell others about it. Sometimes, the person’s wisdom has developed over
years of experience and all of a sudden, she realizes that she has an
expertise that others need. And sometimes, the person has struggled for a
lifetime through difficult circumstances and reaches a point where he
realizes, “I’m okay. Even though it’s been hard, I can do this.” However
they got there, all have discovered a message and wisdom that they feel
compelled to share with others—first through speaking to groups and often
through writing articles or authoring that book about their message.
But how
to get the message, the mission, the passion out of one’s head and onto the
page? For most of us, even the most passionate of us, writing is not easy.
Dan
Poynter, author, speaker, and writing coach, has a saying that got me
started: “I don’t want you to die without having written that book that is
burning inside of you!” Sam Horn, America’s intrigue expert, says
we should “create one-of-a-kind ideas and approaches that help us break out
versus blend in.” And Mark LeBlanc, 2007 National President of NSA and
author of Growing Your Business,
asks his clients, “Can you write for twenty minutes a day?”
Yes, I had that book burning
inside me. And yes, I had experience that I wanted to use to break out
versus blend in. For me, however, having a time of incubating—a focused
time away, a time to think and organize my thoughts—was necessary before I
could spend any time writing daily in the right direction. I needed the
space, physically and mentally, for the book to incubate before it became a
reality. That is why I developed the Lake House Writers’ Retreat: to
fulfill every need I experienced, and had to develop for myself, when I was
working intensely on writing that book.
A wonderful recent guest at the
Lake House Writers’ Retreat described her “incubation” process this way:
“What I found was that it took
me awhile to simply unwind and relax before I could start the creative
thought and writing process. It was strange at first living with so much
peace and quiet. But to have such a view of tranquility helped to still my
soul much quicker. With a big slice of the Master’s creation viewed from
every window, it would be hard not to be inspired to connect with the
creator in oneself! … It was so obvious the loving care and thoughtfulness
you took with every room of the Lake House Retreat in making it feel like a
home away from home!
The amenities you provided were most thoughtful and
kind to a writer’s soul! The personal greeting you wrote for me gave me the
warm feeling that I belonged there; the various spaces and rooms for
different sittings, collaborative meetings, quiet thinking, and a variety of
workspace needs.
The pen theme throughout the place was unifying and
fun! It gave such a sense of place and history, even stimulating my
curiosity juices (that I’m sure helped my writing also)! Seeing a few books
that my fellow NSA speaker friends had written did indeed spur me on to
complete my own project! And I’m just finishing the e-book project I needed
to complete by tomorrow, which may never have happened if it were not for
your generosity.” — Lois Gallo
I’m so glad that other speakers
and writers are now able to use the Lake House Writers’ Retreat as the
perfect incubator for their creativity and their writing. In many ways, I
feel like a co-creator by providing this little piece of heaven on earth
for them to use.
Call Charlyne Meinhard at 804-382-5054 about The Lake House Writers’ Retreat, Hartfield, Virginia or send
an e-mail to Charlyne@NextLevelForYou.com
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DROPPING YOUR
PANTS: : The Naked Truth about Memoir Writing
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By Mary Ann Henry
For writers, fear is as familiar as our own
breath—we’re afraid we won’t be published because we’re not good enough,
and we’re afraid if we do get published, we may reveal too much about
ourselves. For many, fear is as much a part of the writer’s life as stale
coffee and cheap wine. The brutally honest Edna St. Vincent Millay said
that a person who publishes a book willfully appears in public with his
pants down. But, take the writer who publishes a memoir and multiply that
vulnerability tenfold.
Memoir writers like me know what real fear is
because we can’t hide behind fictional characters. For us, fear is the wolf
at the door with an engraved invitation, the fire into which we’ve willingly
leapt, the nightmare for which we’ve written the script.
I know these things because I am one of the
self-cursed who has written a memoir before I’m too old to care what others
think. It takes great courage to face myself on the pages for each re-write,
never mind sending out a query letter. And what about those who might not
be thrilled to find themselves stars of a chapter or two? Sure, I could fall back on a pen name. I
could also get out there and take it on the chin. It’s the memoirist’s dilemma.
On my first draft, I was shot down for not
revealing enough of the down and dirty. “You’re pulling your punches!” a
famous writer told me. This from a woman who has such a big fan base that
they meet annually in various cities around the country. I asked her if she
would reveal to the world the very details that she was encouraging me to
spill. She answered honestly, “I don’t think so.” Then again, she’s not
writing a memoir. But, that’s the rub. Those of us crazy enough to do so
must be willing to go past our fears. For us, there’s no hiding behind
so-called fictional characters and plot lines. We have to throw ourselves,
pant-less, to the masses.
At my writer’s retreat in Folly Beach, South Carolina,
I work with writers of all genres. Yesterday, a writer who is close to
finishing her memoir, called to tell me that her dying sister wants to read
it. “Let her,” I encouraged. “Or, why not read it to her?” There was a
strained silence on the phone and then the sound of sobs. “I once read a
chapter to my mother,” she said. “And she was so critical that I couldn’t
write for an entire year.” Ah, right.
In my latest draft, I tried to let go completely
by pretending that no one but I will ever read it. So, I stripped naked and
did the wild dance of truth. I have to admit that it was fun and freeing,
but when I think about publishing, my familiar enemy—fear—crept back.
Once,
I stood on a rocky coast in New England
looking out to sea with my two friends Alan and Peggi. We had just returned
from a week-long adventure on an Irish tall ship and were toasting our
return. As a low-flying plane came roaring above us, without a word, Peggi
and I both put our drinks down, leaned over, and as they say, shot the
moon. Alan, standing in the middle and thankfully too much the gentleman to
look, threw his head back and roared with laughter. I had never done such a
thing before, and I don’t know where it came from. But I’m trying to summon
that bravado as I face sending the book out. There will come a moment when
I’ll try to think of my reading public as that low-flying plane. I just
hope I have the courage to drop ’em.
Mary Ann Henry can be reached by e-mail at lowcountrywritersretreat@comcast.net or by telephone at 843
437-1934. Visit her website at The Writers’ Retreat in Folly Beach, South Carolina
for more information.
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MY CARIBBEAN SALON
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By Alexandra Edwards
Ever since I read a deliciously evocative article
in British Vogue magazine about
writer Zadie Smith’s month-long sojourn at a writing salon in a Tuscan
farmhouse, I had dreamed about turning our seventeenth century family home
in the hills of the North Coast of Jamaica, into a writing retreat. Seduced
by descriptions of long lazy days in the sun imbibing inspiration along
with Pinot Grigio—long, lingering alfresco
dinners of farm fresh Italian food enlivened by intellectual literary
discussions—I was hooked. Why not recreate this Jamaican-style with me
as the host. For generations, the big old house had been a mecca for all
sorts of people, and it positively thrives when it is full of people.
By good fortune, my daughter attended a small,
private high school in Northern California
with writer Joyce Maynard’s two talented and artistic sons. After meeting
Joyce at a party, I brought up the idea of a writers’ retreat in Jamaica.
To my delight, she jumped at the suggestion and a few months later, we were
flying together from San Francisco to Montego Bay. After the drive along the curving
shoreline of the island from the airport, we turned inland and eventually
rattled across the cattle grid through Bromley’s stone pillar gates and
pulled up in front of the house. Joyce unfolded her lanky legs from the
back of the car, kicked off her shoes, twirled around to look at
everything, and turned to me. “Oh, Alex. This is magnificent,” she
exclaimed with a broad smile.
Joyce’s retreat was a huge success and in between
cooking and planning excursions, I sat in on her workshop marveling at the
careful attention she gave each writer in the group. Hard to believe this
all took place six years ago. Along with my marvelous team at Bromley, I
have hosted many retreats—painting, writing, yoga—and I continue to dream
up new recipes and find new beaches to explore. New York Times bestselling author, Jacqueline Sheehan, has
hosted retreats at Bromley with fellow writer Celia Jeffries. Jacqueline
said the most wonderful thing after one of her visits, likening the house
to “the chambers of the heart.” The beauty of Bromley is not only in its
lush, tropical surroundings and in its mountain views, but also apparently
in its welcoming soul.
My husband Johnathan relishes his role as “butler
and chauffeur” driving us all to a secluded private cove in his four-wheel
drive. He appears in the evening to pour delicious rum cocktails or talks
about some of the rich history of the house and his forbears, including his
grandmother who was introduced to Walt Whitman and Rabindranath Tagore
under this very roof. Gathering for dinner in the formal dining room by
candlelight after a long and fulfilling day and listening to the happy
chatter of our guests, I think that
yes, quite possibly, I have realized my dream.
Alexandra Edwards can be
reached by e-mail at alexandra.sale@gmail.com. Visit
her website at The Writers’ Retreat in Walkerswood, Jamaïca
for more information.
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A HARVEST OF
THOUGHT
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By Julia Shipley
In our excruciatingly beautiful one hundred
frost-free days here in Northern Vermont,
my poems and essays wither from neglect as the urgency of other tasks takes
precedence: build fence, weed potatoes, mow hay. But in these assured one
hundred days of pure winter, snow choking an old watering can, and the
raspberry canes denuded of leaf and fruit, now the poem fattens, now the
essay thickens.
But, how does a long detained writer return to her
work? How do her poems and prose pieces germinate and develop? What
practices nourish the work?
Two American nature writers I revere, Mary Oliver
and Henry David Thoreau, both use a notebook as a way to sow the seeds of
poems and prose pieces when the growing season is over and the world is
dark and cold. Oliver uses a small, pocket-size notebook, which she carries
with her on her daily rambles through the woods and fields of Cape Cod. Thoreau kept a pocket-size diary, which he
carried with him on his forays into the wintery world, but upon returning
home, he used something grander, a menu-size ledger, for entering his
discursive remarks.
In The
Poet’s Notebook: Excerpts from the Notebooks of 26 American Poets,
edited by Kuusisto, Tall, and Weiss, we get a glimpse of Oliver’s mind
gleaning keen ideas, poetic lines, potent observations of the natural
world—the raw material of poems, and then scattering these seeds throughout
her pocket notebook. It is filled with items like:
Do you
ever think the wren dreams of a better house?
*
When one
of the main characters of one’s life die, is there any replacement?
Or, is
there anything but replacement?
*
When you
first saw her—beauty, the dream—the human vortex of your life—or him—did
you stop, and stand in the crisp air, breathing like a tree? Did you change
your life?
*
I took
the fox bones back into the dunes and buried them …
*
M.
arranging the curtains in the next room. “Hello there, darling moon,” I
hear her say.
“I do not use the pages front to back,” Oliver
says in her introductory remarks from The
Poet’s Notebook, “but randomly, in a disorderly way.” Though she
describes her process of “broadcasting” the seeds of future poems, she’ll
admit that not all of these germinate and blossom into poems. “By no means
do I write poems in these notebooks. And yet over the years, the notebooks
have been laced with phrases that eventually appear in the poems. So, they
are the pages upon which I begin.”
Whereas Oliver seems to beach comb her daily
experience in the world and capture little fragments of it in her notes,
Henry David Thoreau, who wandered around the rivers, woods, fields, and
towns of Maine, New Hampshire, and most famously, Concord, Massachusetts,
in the 1800s, would often bring back actual specimens of plants, as well as
inspiration for poetry and prose.
H. G. O. Blake edited an edition of Thoreau’s
journal entries ranging from December through February during the
years1837–1860 and published a book aptly titled, Winter: From the Journal of Henry Thoreau.
In page after page, each entry begins with a date,
and then continues with meteorological observations (Jan 22, 1857: I asked Minott about the cold Friday. He said,
“It was plaguey cold. It stung like a wasp.” He remembers seeing them toss up water in the shoemaker’s shop,
usually a very warm place, and when it struck the floor it was frozen and
scattered like so many shot …); philosophical aphorisms (January 23, 1858: It is in vain to write
of the seasons unless you have the seasons in you.); and naturalist
musings (Jan 30, 1859: How peculiar
is the hooting of an owl; not shrill and sharp like the scream of a hawk,
but full, round, and sonorous…).
Both Thoreau and Oliver use their notebooks as a
place to exercise their senses, to engage in the world around them; they
show us how full of substance, variety, and inspiration, the seemingly
empty and white/gray world of winter. And they remind us that all it takes
is a notebook, a pen, and the impetus to get out and wander around for a
while, to cultivate a new garden of creative writing.
Perhaps Thoreau sums up the whole endeavor of
farming the fields of the imagination when he writes on January, 30 1854: “While the milkmen in the outskirts are
milking so many scores of cows before sunrise these winter mornings, it is
our task to milk the winter itself...Because the fruits of the earth are
already ripe we are not to suppose there is no fruit left to ripen …Then is
the great harvest of the year, the harvest of thought.”
To reach Julia Shipley send
an e-mail to vermontwritersretreat@gmail.com or visit her website at The Writer’s Retreat in Craftsbury, Vermont.
THE MAGIC OF
SAN MIGUEL: OR WRITING ABOUT “PLACE"
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By Lynne Anderson, PhD
It was a dangerous thing to do. My husband and I
spent the holidays in San Miguel de Allende, a history soaked, colonial
town four hours by bus from Mexico
City. As we settled into Casa Amistad, the
bougainvillea-draped home my sister and her husband built for their
retirement, our travel fatigue evaporated instantly.
Nestled into the Mexican neighborhood of Colonia
San Rafael, our daily lives became an extraordinary blend of bilingual,
bicultural experiences. For ten days, we walked everywhere—down
cobblestone streets, through open-air markets, across plazas, into
courtyards, and up onto rooftops. For ten days, we were captivated by the
rich and vibrant colors of street musicians, balloon vendors, embroidered
textiles, exotic flowers, and the sun-drenched walls of unusual hues. We
enjoyed the richness of a culture in the throes of really celebrating the
birth of Jesus with elaborate crèches in every home and elegantly attired
replicas of the baby Jesus to fill them. Everything was a feast for the
eyes and ears, not to mention the palette. Whether it was breakfast at Buenas
Dias, margaritas at La Cucaracha, dinner at Mama Mias, or simply tacos on
the street, we ate well, very well.
To say there is something magical about San
Miguel is to repeat a phrase heard often, especially from a large
contingent of American retirees opting to live out their lives in sunny
comfort and social activism. Many originally came to study or visit, then
fell under the city’s spell and returned. We learned that cultural
blending is not a new phenomenon for San Miguel. As early as the
seventeenth century, the city was a melting pot attracting Spanish born peninsulares, Mexican-born creoles, and various castas of mixed racial heritage.
By the eighteenth century, the area had grown rich catering to the needs
of nearby silver mines with wealthy merchants and artisans, huge
haciendas, and a reputation for fine woven textiles, especially the
quintessential Mexican serape. Unfortunately, the city’s wealth, like
that of the rest of the country, was founded on inequality and imperial
exploitation. Inspired by the political vision of local hero, Ignacio
Allende, San Miguel was the first city to be liberated from Spanish rule,
giving birth to Mexico’s
War of Independence in 1810. In recognition, the town voted to change its
name from San Miguel el Grande to San Miguel de Allende. And in 2008, the
city was named a UNESCO World Heritage site both for its role in the War
of Independence and its well-preserved colonial architecture.
The influx of Americans to San Miguel; however,
had less to do with history and more to do with the vision of one
man—Sterling Dickenson. He arrived in San Miguel in 1937 at a time when
the town had clearly seen better days. But his artistic side saw
potential, and in short order, he co-founded an art institute, launching sixty
years of industrious marketing that drew thousands of post WWII veterans
to San Miguel in pursuit of education and cross-cultural experience.1
The city was transformed into an international literary and artistic
mecca, and for decades provided inspiration to dozens of authors and
artists, both well known and obscure.
Today, the literary community of San Miguel is
alive and well, due to the vision and organizing energies of another
American transplant—Susan Page. Author of six books, including The Shortest Distance Between You and
a Published Book, Susan moved to San Miguel seven years ago.
Astonished that the city had no venue for authors to share their work,
she decided to create one. Now known as the Literary Sala, monthly
readings by local and visiting authors host large audiences and are
scheduled months in advance. In 2005, Susan launched the San Miguel International Writers’
Conference with keynote speakers such as Tom
Robbins (2008), Barbara Kingsolver (2010), and on February 18–20, 2011,
Sandra Cisneros, author of Caramelo
and The House on Mango Street.
In addition to keynote events, there are writing workshops, a Pleasures
of Reading series, and a welcoming Mexican Fiesta that Kingsolver
extolled as “one of the ten best parties in my life!”
In short, San Miguel is both enticing and
seductive. And we want you to experience the magic yourself. Writers who
stay at least two weeks at Panther Orchard Writers’
Retreat in 2011 will receive one free week at Casa
Amistad in beautiful San Miguel.
For details, contact Lynne
Anderson, owner of Panther Orchard
Retreat in Hopkinton,
Rhode Island, at lynneandrs@gmail.com.
______________
1 For more information read Jonathan
Kandell’s, Under
the Spell of San Miguel de Allende, Smithsonian Magazine, December 2010.
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