Final Report

Thank you.

Yesterday I submitted the final report about my sabbatical to the the president of the college. Below is a brief summary of my conclusions.

I want to express my gratitude the Cape Cod Community College Board of Trustees, and to Dr. John Cox, president of Cape Cod Community College, for approving my request. I also want to thank Vice President Susan Miller, Deans Lore Loftfield DeBower and David Ziemba, Professor Sally Polito, and Administrative Assistant Cindy Pavlos for their extraordinary level of support, assistance, and friendship that made it all possible. I am deeply grateful.

LESSONS LEARNED:

Blogging opens the door to the first of three major lessons from the sabbatical:

·         The integrated digital media platform is the new marketplace of ideas.
This stands in stark contrast to the second major lesson I learned from the sabbatical:

·         Mindfulness of the present moment in a natural environment is essential.                           
Resolving this apparent contradiction is my third lesson:

·         A wise person keeps the natural and the digital worlds in balance.

WRITING ACCOMPLISHED:

·         I completed my 30,000-word spiritual memoir, I Just Want to Be Happy.

·         I wrote 25 chapters of a planned 31-chapter English Composition textbook, The Elements of English Composition..

·         I outlined and began outlining Mindfulness of the Mass Media, a future book project.

·         I wrote about half a dozen poems.

HIGHLIGHTS:

·         The joy I felt being named a writer in residence at the Wildacres Conference Center was only exceeded by the joy of writing in a remote cabin high on the Blue Ridge Mountains with all conveniences provided to me.

·         I had a wonderful “aha moment”at the Grub Street conference keynote address when rock star, poet and Kickstarter phenom Amanda Palmer told us to throw open our shutters, stick our heads out the windows and call out to the teeming marketplace below! This is not my father’s publishing industry.

·         I had another breakthrough, at Wildacres, when I got to know author Jana Bounds, who published her novel, Magenta Rain through Amazon Create Space. She described the process in a way that completed the picture I got from the Create Space executives at the Grub Street Conference. This is not my father’s “vanity press.”

WORKSHOPS AND RETREATS ATTENDED:

I attended two retreats and four writers’ conferences in seven months

·         Metta Meditation ten-day workshop Insight Meditation Society, Barre, Mass., February

·         AWP (Association of Writers and Writing Programs), four-day conference, Boston, March. (I represented CCCC at the Two-Year Caucus there.)

·         Grub Street The Muse and the Marketplace, three-day conference, Boston, May

·         We Can! Benefit one-day presentation with four successful writers, May

·         Wildacres Writers Retreat, seven days, Little Switzerland, N.C. July

·         Wildacres Writers Workshop, seven days, Little Switzerland, N.C. July

·         Wildacres Writer-In-Residency, seven days, Little Switzerland, N.C. July

·         Cape Cod Writers Conference, five days, Hyannis, Mass.. August

PUTTING STUDENTS FIRST:

·         I am coming back refreshed, renewed and rejuvenated. I have had time to write, and I have also had time to relax. I am looking forward to returning to the classroom with new enthusiasm.

·         I have deepened my understanding of grammar, composition, rhetoric, writing, editing, publishing and the mass media. This comes on top of my previous 30-year career as a professional writer and editor.

·         I have learned about the emerging new technologies and new media from people on the leading edge of these changes.

·         I have deepened my understanding of the benefits of mindfulness in education, so that I can apply the most useful aspects in all my classes.

Catching up

I have not bogged for about a week because I was attempting to attend the Cape Cod Writers Conference while moving from one apartment to another seven miles away. Somehow the stress got to me, and I contracted pneumonia, so I am resting and recovering.

I am also remembering with great gratitude the wonderful last six months.

Cape Cod Writers Conference Day 3

On Wednesday I learned a lot from two teachers: Fern Reiss and Hillary Rettig.
In the morning Fern Reiss talked about ISBNs's and cover design. She explained how one company--Bowker--controls all ISBN's in the U.S. She said it costs a few hundred dollars to purchase ten ISBN's from Bowker.

She also urged us to hire a professional book cover designer, rather than try to do it ourselves. She told a story about a rich executive who insisted on doing the cover his way, only to discover that the product code wouldn't scan correctly so that the books could not be sold in bookstores.

During the class, on of my classmate talked about working for a company that designed restraint devices used on terrorists. Another student found the subject so upsetting that she left the room. I said calmly that I, too, felt upset by the subject, but I am willing to talk about it. Later the first classmate left the class. I hope what I said did not contribute to that.

I had lunch with my good friend Ann, and we had a great talk about writing and Buddhism.

Hillary Rettig

In the afternoon Hillary Rettig began a three-day class about avoiding procrastination and becoming more productive. It was excellent. One idea she has is to write on a computer that is not connected to the Internet.


She also emphasized that feeling lazy is a symptom, not a cause. She said to get rid of all the "shoulds."

She mentioned an essay, "Still Writing" by Ann Tyler. I hope to find that.

"Use your time congruent with your values" says Hillary Rettig.

Cape Cod Writers Conference Day 2

The conference has been very good.

Monday afternoon I had an excellent one-hour session with agent April Eberhardt who gave me some excellent suggestions for my memoir. Basically, she gave me some old rules from my journalist days, like, "Start with your best stuff." I think I need to completely restructure my memoir.

In the late afternoon She gave a talk to about 30 of us and lamented the sorry state of publishing today. Even though she is an agent, she no longer advises writers to use the same old agent-editor-publisher route any more. Everything has changed, she says, and the other teacher I have been following, agrees.

Tuesday morning, Fern Reiss talked about the importance of a good 30- to 60-page marketing plan for your book, regardless of whether is it self-published or not.

An interesting tidbit: Lightning Source is owned by Ingram, the largest book wholesaler, and Create Space is owned by Amazon, the largest book retailer.

She said to consider Internet search keywords when choosing a title.

Cape Cod Writers Conference Day 1

Monday morning, Aug. 5, was the first day of a five-day course on self publishing taught by Fern Reiss. She was excellent, and she confirmed the same ideas I learned from previous conferences.

Fern Reiss

She said 10 years ago, finding an agent to gt you in the door of a major publisher was what it was all about.  today's publishing industry is radically different. the major players have merged, shrunk and downsized dramatically.

She said self-publishing gives the author control, but may mean the author has to shell out between $5,000 and $10,000 to finance the publication. On the other hand the per-book profit can be much higher in self-publishing.

She said we need to remember that the shelf-life of most bookstore books is three to four months.

She said we need to keep abreast of what is happening in the business, keep track of the competition, and remember the cover needs to work on a tiny image on a computer screen.

One interesting thing is she recommended printing a set of pre--publication galleys to send to the seven trade journals, hoping for a review. They wasn't to get those three to four months prior to publication. A good review there makes a big difference.

She also recommended getting full Library of Congress Catalog data with a CIP number, not just a PCIP number

My favorite line form the morning was:

"Benjamin Franklin was self-published."

Comedy from Asheville on NPR

This week's episode of "Wait, Wait, Don't tell Me" was recorded in Asheville, NC, and includes lots of Asheville jokes and references--even a shout-out to Malaprop's Bookstore!
http://www.npr.org/programs/wait-wait-dont-tell-me/

I've been home for a week, getting accustomed to the "real world."

This evening is the opening of the Cape Cod Writers Conference.

Home again

I am back home.
It is now Wednesday, July 31, and I am finding it very difficult to make the transition from being on retreat in a remote mountain cabin to being back at my regular world, nice as it is.

I know I need to find a balance between the interconnected online digital world and the peaceful and serene natural world. I need both in my life. When I left Plum Village last summer Brother Ky Lee gave me a cock on which he had painted the Chinese symbols for "Mountain" and "River." Mountains and rivers are both very important to me. So is being connected with my friends and family.

Yesterday, Tuesday, I simply tried to adjust to civilization. It included going to my office at the college and cleaning out my e-mail, which was overloaded. I also had to deal with the most pressing business obligations. There will be more of that today. On Monday I drive from Carlisle, Pa., to home. It was a long, hard drive. On Sunday, I drove from Wildacres to Carlisle, Pa. That was a long drive too.

And Saturday was my final day as Writer-in-residence, or cabin dweller, as I prefer. It was great. I had breakfast in the dining hall with staff. All three artists-in-residence had lunch together in the little Switzerland Café. And then Lona, the storyteller, brought over some frozen stuffed shells, which she heated up for our dinner. After dinner we saw a bear at my cabin door. That was definitely a highlight of the trip.

Wildacres Residency Day 5

Friday, July 26, I drove into town to do laundry and get an Internet connection. I have been focusing on my writing and reading lately.

Last night I finished Joe Haldeman's science fiction classic The Forever War. I am so glad I finally read it because I have known Joe and his wife Gay for many years, and they have stayed in my home. At last I know what all the fuss is about. It is, indeed, a wonderful book. It is an eloquent anti-war story by a decorated combat veteran, and it is also a sweet love story taking place in several different centuries.

I will take advantage of the Internet connection to upload three photos of my beloved Owl's Nest Cabin at Wildacres. I will miss it.

The Owl's Nest cabin at Wildacres.

I

The interior of the Owl's Nest at Wildacres

The writing desk in the Owl's Nest.

Wildacres residency Day 4

Thursday, July 25 was beautiful. We had warm sunny weather, but cool enough to remain pleasant. I didn't use my car at all; I walked up to the dining hall for lunch and dinner. In between I wrote. Some was my textbook, and some was my report to the College President about my sabbatical.

I am getting used to the solitude. In my cabin I am completely alone. It feels good.

In the evening a local family presented an informal concert of Appalachian roots music. It was delightful. I was struck by the lack of rhythm and prevalence of melody in the music of the mountains that came from Northern Europe. It was the mixture of this style with African rhythms that created rock 'n' roll.

Wildacres Residency Day 3

Wildacres residency Day 3

Wednesday, July 24, dawned cool and cloudy.  I awoke with a headache. I took two Tylenol with breakfast and began to feel better.
I worked from 8 to 10 finishing Chapter 18 and then moved on to Chapter 19. I finished Chapter 19 before lunch. Wahoo! On a roll!

And now I am back online again. The twin peaks of my sabbatical experience have been the power of mindfulness, peace and tranquility on one hand, and the power of an integrated digital media platform on the other hand. I love sitting in my isolated cabin in the woods, and I also love being a part of this new kind of conversation. Balance is the answer--balance.

More writing and reading Wednesday night and evening.

 

 

 

 

 

Wildacres Residency Day 2

Wildacres residency Day 2
I slept later than I expected on Tuesday, July 23. It was nearly 9 a.m. when I finally came to my senses and got up. Breakfast up at the lodge was at 8 a.m., so I was happy that I had bought Cheerios and soy milk last night.
As I ate breakfast, poetry came bursting out of me. I wrote a new poem called “Grandfathers,” and I rewrote “Voices of the Blue Ridge” yet again. I think I may have it this time.

Then, between 10 and 12, I worked on Chapter 18 of The Elements of Academic Writing, about parts of speech.

After lunch, we three artists-in-residence got together and made a Wal-Mart run. What with chatting and getting to know each other, most of the afternoon slipped away. Dinner at the dining hall was good as usual, and we had some more good conversations. Jan (the young artist) and I talked about the “story arc.” I mentioned that it was the main theme of the writers conference I attended here two weeks ago.

For a story to keep a reader’s interest, it must have characters we care about, a source of conflict or struggle, a dramatic climax in which the conflict is resolved, and a conclusion that leaves the reader feeling like change has occurred.

Perhaps I should look over each of the stories in my memoir and see if they each have that. Also, perhaps I should look at whether the whole book, taken as one piece, maintains that story arc.

Wildacres Residency Day 1

I arrived back at Wildacres in the early afternoon of Monday, July 22, 2013, and was greeted warmly by Dave and Sherry.

(The director, Mike, and his wife, Katherine, who I met during the writers retreat, are on vacation. I wonder where people who live at Wildacres go on vacation. Of course I am from Cape Cod, so people may ask that about me.)

The Owl’s Nest cabin is even more beautiful and comfortable that I had hoped. There is a king-sized bed, three easy chairs, a writing table, a full kitchen and bathroom. The main room is open to the peaked roof and is about 30 by 45 feet. It is a real log cabin with huge tree trunks forming the main beams. It seems to be the same style as the cabins built by the Civilian Conservation Corps in the 1930s. At the south end there is a modern kitchen and bathroom with a sleeping loft above. The cabin is located about a mile down the Wildacres Road from the main campus of the Wildacres Retreat.

The staff member who cleaned the cabin said a black bear has been sighted regularly around the cabins. This used to be the only residency cabin, but the Wildacres staff built two more this year.

I spent most of the afternoon reading journal entries left by previous artists and writers in residence. I feel like I have been initiated into a wonderful secret society. I love it. I am going to relax this evening and write a lot on Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, and Saturday. Perhaps Sunday too—we’ll see.

In the evening I drove the mile up the mountain to the main campus, where I had dinner at the staff table with Dave and Sherry and their children, plus two other artists in residence, Lona, a storyteller, and Jan, a visual artist. After dinner I went into Spruce pine for supplies—Cheerios, soy milk, and soda.

I fell asleep to the sound of rain on the metal roof. At one point in the night I awoke and found a large cricket in my bed. That inspired the following poem Tuesday morning:

Grandfathers

Last night, after trip to the bathroom,
I found a giant cricket in my bed.
It was the largest I had ever seen.
As a boy, I used to catch crickets in my bare hands,
but this one—Grandfather Cricket, I called him—was too large.
Does size in crickets come with age?
I found a two-cup Pyrex measuring cup in the kitchen.
The one-cup measure was not large enough.
A grabbed a phone book for our mountain hamlet.
It was the smallest I had ever seen.
I swiftly captured him between the book and cup.
He jumped and flailed inside his two-cup home
as I carried him to the door
and flung him out to sleep in the woods.
This morning I wonder if he—a grandfather like myself—
only wanted a soft, warm, dry place to rest his weary head.
 
James W. Kershner, July 2013, Owl’s Nest cabin, Wildacres

 

 

 

 

Mount Pisgah Day 8

Early Sunday morning I noticed a blinking green light on my cell phone, hanging in a mesh pocket next to my head. It was Brandon telling me the glow in the east was beautiful. I got up, added my jeans to the two pairs of sweatpants I was already wearing, and drove up the hill to the office, where Brandon was just ending his shift.

After watching the sunrise and eating breakfast in the dining room, we walked around the campground for a while, and then decided to join a worship service in the campground presented by Christian Ministries in the National Parks. There were three college-age leaders who welcomed us and sang, but the main speaker was a special guest named Dave, who has a motorcycle ministry. He tolk us how Jesus saved his loife and all the ways he has lived that over the last 30 years as a shepherd on a motorcycle. I am really glad Brandon and I went.

Mount Pisgah Day 7

There was yet more rain on Saturday, but it is not getting me down.

I am sharing my campsite with a friend, although I have not met my new friend. I set up my tent on the nice tent platform supplied by the National Park Service. It is four landscaping ties forming a raised square filled with blue stone and gravel. I didn't notice any animal holes in the area when I set up my tent, but afterwards, there was an obvious two-inch hole right in front of my tent. Later the hole disappeared, and then it appeared again.



Now you see it...

... now you don't.

I finally figured out that my neighbor was covering the entrance to his home by covering the hole with carefully placed stones. That was reassuring because I could not imaging a rattlesnake having the dexterity to close his door so carefully. It's hard to imaging a chipmunk doing that either, but that's who I imagine is doing all this midnight landscape engineering.

I've taken to speaking to him as I go in and out of my door, but I have not seen him yet. I have seen a few chipmunks around the campsite, so I figure he it must be one of those. I sure do admire his or her dexterity.

I managed to do another half-hour run between rainstorms this afternoon, and it felt wonderful, as usual.

Mount Pisgah Day 6

A statue of hogs and geese going to market in Pack Square.

Friday, July 19, found me heading back down to Asheville. It is such a friendly city. I needed to refill a prescription, and it all happened without any problem at all.

Then I had a veggie wrap at the Jackson Underground Café and now I am at Malarops enjoying free wi-fi and a great chai tea latte.



In the afternoon and evening, I styed at the campground. I took a walk around the campground and encountered a young woman struggling with a huge tent. I hoped to be a hero and show her how to do it, but I didn't have a clue either. Then the park ranger came by and tried too. He and I decided there must be pieces missing. Finally the girl's boyfriend arrived just before a torrential downpour. The boy and girl (about 20 I guess) took off.


My campsite at Mount Pisgah.

I checked back after the storm to see how they made out. There was no sign of the young couple, but a camper form a neighboring site figured it out and had their tent all set up.

Mount Pisgah Day 5

Thursday, July 18, 2013, dawned as a clear morning after a night of rain. It was raining so hard last night I decided to get dinner in the dining room. I had good chicken pot pie. I had done a load of laundry Wednesday evening, but some of the clothers--like jeans--were not dry. So I brought them up to the camp store this morning to give them an extra 15 minutes in the dryer.

A poem is taking shape, but I am not sure of it yet.

Then Brandon came to visit, and we spent the whole day together, just walking around the Mount Pisgah area. We also went down to Looking Glass Falls and on into Brevard for a dinner at a Waffle House--a real southern treat.

Mount Pisgah Day 4

View of Mount Pisgah from the picnic area.
 

Tuesday, July 16, was another beautiful day on Mount Pisgah. I relaxed around the campsite in the morning. Then I drove down to Candler and picked up Brandon to give him a ride to work, up at the lodge. Then I went for a run along the Blue Ridge Parkway. I looked off in the distance and saw ridge after ridge and daydreamed of running along the tops of the ridges. Then I looked down at my feet and realized I was, indeed, running along the top of one of those ridges. What a great feeling!

Brandon came down to my campsite during a break in his shift, and we sat around a campfire and talked. Later, I worked on a poem.

Mount Pisgah Day 3

This morning I woke up and was thrilled to find it not raining. I took a shower at the comfort station and had a Luna nutrition bar for breakfast. Then I headed for the Mazda dealer in Asheville. While they were looking at my car I had lunch with my son Brandon and his wife Poppy Kay. In the end, the mechanic said there was nothing wrong with my air conditioner after all. He said sometimes the condenser drain freezes if you run the a.c. for an unusual length of time (as I did on the trip through New York.) They had it for more than three hours, but didn't charge me anything. I was very grateful.

Now I am back at Malaprops Bookstore and Café. This afternoon I am going to meet up with a friend I met at the retreat who lives nearby.

Writing: I need to resume my writing. I think I should plow ahead with The Elements of Academic Writing,and let I Just Want to Be Happy rest for a while. I'll see what Glenda and the editor at the Cape Cod Writers Conference say before going back to that. I may have a poem emerging too. We'll see.

LATE ADDITION:
I forgot to mention earlier a wonderful experience. Tuesday evening at sunset, I was driving back up the mountain from Asheville and passed several cars pulled over on the side of the road to watch the beautiful sunset. As I passed one car, a young man gave me a little wave. So I waved back and drove on. But then I stopped and backed up. Something didn't look quite right. They weren't looking at the sunset. I asked if he was OK.
"Not really," he replied. "Can you help me push start me car?"
Rather than push it, I offered to jump-start his car with jumper cables. He liked that even better, I was happy to help, and the young man and his girlfriend were extremely grateful. I am so glad I backed up and asked.

Mount Pisgah Day 2

Rain, fog, mist, clouds... the pattern continued on Sunday, July 14. In the morning I awoke and stumbled out of the tent in a fog both literal and metaphorical. I met Brandon in the office, where he was ending his shift as night auditor. It is great to see him again. We had a nice breakfast in the inn's upscale dining room.

Then I headed down the mountain to Asheville to get dry and to get an internet connection to upload this blog. I headed straight for my favorite bookstore in the whole world (and--yes--I have been to Shakespeare and Co. on the West Bank in Paris).

Malaprops is a favorite among readers and writers. Many of the writers at the Wildacres Conference sang its praises. I am sitting here sipping a delicious soy chai latte, listening to good music, sitting at a special table with outlets so that I can plug and recharge my laptop and phone while I use Malaprop's free Internet WiFi.
Even...
Mapaprop's Web site <http://www.malaprops.com/>
...is interesting. I love this place.

And it is just steps away form a dozen other fascinating places in downtown Asheville.

* * *

In the afternoon and evening I hung around the campsite hoping the rain would end. I spent part of it just sitting in my car. The rain let up enough for me to cook and eat macaroni and cheese at the picnic table. I read a little and fell asleep listening to the rain and wind on my tent.

Wildacres Day 14 / Mount Pisgah Day 1

View from the Wildacres patio.

Saturday, July 13, 2013, is the day I said good-bye to my dear, dear friends at Wildacres.
I had been meditating every morning at 7 a.m. with Marci. This morning I overslept. I was sound asleep in my bed when I began to hear a voice downstairs calling my name.
"James, James? Is James here? Has anyone seen James?"

I stumbled out of my door, and there was Marci, who was very concerned that something had happened to me. Her concern touched me deeply. I got dressed and caught up with Marci at breakfast. We decided to go meditate together after breakfast. Then we hugged and cried. In less than two weeks, she and I had become close personal friends. It was beautiful.




Marsha, James, and Marci, after a Wildacres hike.

There were many tearful hugs this morning. The depth of connection we felt shocked me. I didn't make friends with all 90 writers on the mountain, but I certainly felt close to about half of them, and extraordinarily close to a few. I will always treasure my friendships with  Will, Victoria, Janna, Marci, Marsha, Linda, Carol, Eli,  Radha, Bridget, Fasil, Bo, and so many more.

It was damp, foggy and rainy as I left Wildacres and headed south on the Blue Ridge Parkway toward Mount Pisgah.

*  *  *

... Driving south on the Blue Ridge Parkway, I found the fog just got thicker and thicker as I approached Mount Mitchel.
And then--suddenly--a "ROAD CLOSED" sign in the middle of the Parkway. So I turned around, gave my Parkway map to some confused motorcyclists, and found my way down the mountain to Asheville.

I arrived at the Mount Pisgah campground around 3 p.m. I was able to select the same site where I camped last summer. It was upgraded and improved over the winter, so the new tent platform was high and dry, despite two weeks of wet weather. I walked around the campground and had a nice talk with the park ranger, who has a Mazda Miata even older than mine. We exchanged stories about the joy of driving a Miata in these mountains.

I left a note with the campsite number for my son Brandon, who was working the night shift at the Pisgan Inn. (In the morning, he told me he had found the site at 10 p.m., but he heard me snoring and decided not to wake me.)

Wildacres Day 13

Friday, July 12, 2013, the last day of the Wildacres Writers’ Workshop.

I began with meditation, as usual. After breakfast I saw Janna, who has a beautiful singing voice. I heard her sing and play the guitar on “In My Life,” which I love. I asked her if she knew ‘Shenandoah.” She said she had not played it in a long time, and suggested I ask Jack (who had played one of the Beatles last night. I found Jack on the porch of the dorm and asked him. He worked out the chords and started playing, but was unsure of the words. Then Janna came along and sang the song. Soon others gathered, and they all started singing some beautiful songs, mostly traditional tunes, like “Danny Boy.” It was a sweet few moments.

Then we had our last creative nonfiction class, and took a class picture.

After lunch a few people, including Victoria, had to leave early, so there were some heartfelt farewells. We have really bonded with our new friends.  In my continuing quest to dry out the soggy carpets in my car, I drove up to the Blue Ridge Parkway and found a scenic overlook I remember form previous trips: the Three Knobs Overlook. I sat and meditated with my eyes open, soaking up the spectaculat mountain views.

That evening was the Gong Show, an annual talent show they do on the closing night of the Wildacres Writers Conference. Almost everyone volunteered to be a part of it. I played a newbie at Wildacres—type casting! My big line was, “What the fuck?!?”  which I delivered when my workshop instructor shows up dressed as Curella deVil with a bullwhip. I got a good laugh, so I guess I delivered it well enough. But it was another newbie—Fasil—who stole the show. He is of Pakistani ancestry.  In one skit he played a Chicago gangster. His partner said, “I’m Methodist.” Fasil said, “I’m Muslim.” Together they said, “We’re the M&M Gang.” That got a laugh. In another skit, he played a judge in a tv cooking show. But yesterday was part of Ramadan, so Fasil had been fasting during daylight hours. The skit began after sunset, so he could eat again. Completely ad-lib, Fasil began eating everything in sight, including a dish with lots of whipped cream, He put his face right in the cream pie, looked up with whipped cream all over his beard, face, and glasses, and declared, “I am so fucking hungry!” We were all laughing so hard they could barely continue the skit.

What does this have to do with learning to write?

Everything.

We all completely opened up our hearts and let down out inhibitions, which is what you have to do when writing. I learned more about writing at this retreat and workshop than any I have attended before.

I learned I need to open up and bare my soul early in my book.

I learned that the fictional techniques I teach my students are important to my nonfiction books.

I learned that readers need to see a character, narrator or protagonist about whom they care deeply.

I learned that the things that connect us really are bigger than the things that divide us.

I learned that my prejudice against Southerners is—like any prejudice—based on fear and misunderstanding.

I learned that people who look different are mostly the same.

I learned that diversity comes in many forms. (Although there were no people with black skin at this retreat there was still a wide diversity in other ways.)

I learned that the little village of Little Switzerland is even more magical than I thought when I stopped here on a family vacation in 1958.

Except for the last item, these are things I already knew. Now I understand them at a deeper level.

 

 

 

Wildacres Day 12

Wildacres Day 12

Thursday, July 11, 2013, was yet another wonderful day. In the morning I had the workshop class with Jessica Handler, and we reviewed two more pieces. The conversation was frank, open and extremely productive. Again, I learned the importance of the balance between scenes where there is action and narration. There also needs to be a balance between the personal and the general.

After lunch I went into town to get an internet signal at the Little Switzerland café and upload the last few blog posts. When I returned, I took a nice hike with Victoria, a writer from the hills of North Georgia who now lives in Atlanta. Although very different in almost every apparent way, we discovered many things in common.

After dinner, there was a wild theme party. People were encouraged to wear costumes, although most of us newbies had nothing. I wore my cowboy hat and a red rubber nose. Several of the regulars put on a show that was amazingly good. Janna did a parody of Tammy Wynette singing, “Stand By Your Man(uscript)” that was hilarious. Melissa, who is in my workshop class and is obviously pregnant, dressed up as Snow White. She entered carrying a sign that read “The dwarves have some explaining to do” with an arrow pointing to her baby bump. That brought down the house. Four men who are all excellent singers wore 1960’s style black suits and white shirts and did a medley of Beatles songs, beginning—appropriately enough—with “Rain.” They also did “Paperback Writer” and “A Hard Day’s Night.” They inserted lines to refer to Wildacres, and they sang very well. One of the guys did a Paul McCartney imitation, and when he shook is mop-top wig, all the girls screamed. It was hilarious. The party went on until after midnight.

The magic of Wildacres is that all the writers are given opportunities to express their creativity in new and different ways, including skits, songs, jokes and dancing—as well as writing, which everyone here takes very seriously.

Will and I spent some time sitting on the porch and watching the clouds over the mountains. It was beautiful.

Wildacres Day 11

Wednesday, July 10, 2013, I awoke feeling wonderful. Although I have been enjoying Wildacres so far, the positive reaction to my poem Tuesday night made me feel like an accepted member of the group, rather than a “newbie.”

 Marci, Carol and I met to meditate at 7 a.m. again.

At breakfast I got more compliments on my poem, including some very specific and sincere words of praise from Ron Rash, probably the most famous and successful author here, who has published books of short stories, a novel, and a book of poetry.  

Our nonfiction class met at 9:30, and we critiques two other student pieces, and I learned a lot form the comments, as usual. I could see one of the pieces needed “more scene and less narrative,” which also applies to my book.

During class, Jessica passed around a wonderful-looking book by Linda Barry titled What It Is. It appears to be a collection of collages and words presented as art. I would love to spend some time with it. She also spoke of a book about writing by Brenda Miller and Suzanne Paola titled Tell it Slant.

After lunch I had another talk with my new friend Victoria. We are an unlikely pair: She is a 40-year-old conservative Christian from Alabama, and I am a 64-year-old liberal Buddhist from Massachusetts. We get along great. We went to the library and had a long talk about our childhoods (both with deeply troubled mothers), and about the Bible. It was very interesting.

At 4 p.m. (as I write this), Will, Claude and I are all sitting in the living room writing. Will and I had been on the porch until a strong rainstorm swept in form the west and inundated us.

After dinner, there was another evening of student readings, and again, they were wonderful.  I worked on critiques of two of my classmates’ pieces. I also worked on our writing prompt, which was to write a biography of a place. I ended up making a word picture—that is, a picture made up of words. I tried to make them look like the Potomac River, and I included words, names, and places related to the Potomac River. It is strange, but I like it.

 

 

 

Wildacres Day 10

Wildacres Day10

Tuesday, July 9, 2013, was another beautiful, sunny day at Wildacres.  Marci, Carol and I met to meditate at 7 a.m. again. At breakfast I suggested to Marsha that we go for a run. She said she and Marci were planning an afternoon hike instead, so I said that would be great.

Then I returned to my room, worked on my blog, and wrote the poem, “Mountain High,”  which appears at the end of yesterday’s entry. Then I wrote the abededarial form poem that appears at the end of today’s entry. I felt good writing two poems in one day. This place is very inspiring. All the other writers are also saying they are amazed at how productive they are here.

After lunch, Marci, Marsha, and I hiked the Loop Trail, which was a beautiful hike part-way down the western slope of the mountain on which Wildacres is built. All three of us had a terrific time. It was a tough two-hour hike over rugged mountain terrain, so all of us got an intense workout.

After dinner, there were student readings in the auditorium. I had signed up to read, and I was very nervous. I decided to read my San Francisco poem because I think of it as a “crowd pleaser,” but I was not sure what this mostly Southern crowd would think of it. I was 12^th to read. All the previous students were excellent. I was expecting there to be a “clunker” in the group, but it all sounded good to me. Some read prose, and some read poetry.

I got very nervous. When it was my turn, my heart was pounding in my chest. I read it quickly, as usual. The four-minute time-limit bell went off just before the end. I read the last four lines and bowed. The reaction was gratifying. It sounded like thunderous applause to me. As I walked back to me seat, people gave me compliments. The people sitting near my patted my shoulders and said it was great. The next student reader said, “How do I follow that?” After the readings, I was flooded with compliments. People actually crowded around me to tell me how much they loved my poem. The instructor of my class, Jessica Handler, said she loved it too.

When I got back to the Guest House, my buddy Will said, “I wanted to jump up and yell, “That’s my roomie!”

Will and I sat on the porch again and watched the thunderstorm roll through the valley below us. After we both went to bed, the thunderstorm rolled across Wildacres.

Somehow I managed to re-read and critique two of my classmate’s pieces for the next day’s class.

At the end of Monday’s class, Jessica suggested we each try writing an “abecedarian,” in which the first line of every poem begins with a different letter of the alphabet, in alphabetical order. Here is my attempt:

Appalachian Abecedarian

Appalachian mountain ridges

Beckon to me to find myself.
Deer and bear welcome me
Every time I
Follow my heart into the Blue Ridge.
God is all around me and in me
High in the mountains.
I know this is my true home.
Just watching a mountain sunset
Keeps me peaceful and calm.

Love of the
Mountains fills me with joy.
Natural surroundings,
Open spaces,
Picturesque vistas,
Quaint mountain hamlets,
Rustic homesteads
Sustain and nurture me.

Tired from a day of hiking, I

Unroll my sleeping bag and
Venture into my tent as
Wistful evening birdsong sounds like a
Xylophone in the distance, and then I
Yawn, stretch, and close the
Zipper on my tent.

 

--James W. Kershner, July 2013, Wildacres

 

Wildacres Day 9

Wildacres Day 9

Monday, July 8, 2013, was the first Sunny day at Wildacres. It seemed like everyone’s spirits lifted as the sky cleared. I even put the top down in my car and continued to let the sun dry the wet carpets in the car.

In the morning I wrote out a critique of the other student being evaluated today, Eli. As I told her in person later, I thought the quality of her writing was head-and-shoulders above the rest of the class, including myself. She is an excellent writer.

After lunch, I went for a run–my first run of this trip. The gravel road from Wildacres up to the Blue Ridge Parkway was very steep, and I had to stop and walk at the steepest parts. Although it was only a mile, it was a very hard mile. Once I got to the Parkway I ran along it until I reached the Wildacres Tunnel.  Then I returned for a total of about three miles.

In class in the afternoon, Jessica said, “Good nonfiction writing imposes order on a jumbled world.” She also said that metaphor is the connective tissue to holds stories together.

In the student critiques, I could tell my nine classmates agreed that Eli’s piece was wonderful.

When it came time for them to critique my samples, they were very helpful. I gave them the preface and two chapters of I Just Want to Be Happy.

Jessica—the teacher—set the tone by referring to other “quest narratives,” such as The Wizard of Oz. Interesting.

In one chapter I say I “watched in horror” as the World Trade Center fell. They suggested I describe exactly what I felt and saw at the moment. They also suggested a better balance between scene and setting. I now know I need to—as I tell my students—“show, don’t tell.” My book is too discursive; the strongest parts are actual scenes and dialog.

Several also suggested they wanted to know more about the suffering the narrator endured as a child of alcoholic parents. They all wanted to know more about the narrator—more of me! They also suggested more tension would help.

So perhaps I am not done. I now think I may need to do some more revision.

After dinner and more faculty readings, Will and I sat on the porch of the Guest House and watched a distant lightning storm. Clouds rolled in and enveloped us, and then they drifted away again, restoring our view of the mountains. We talked some and sat in silence for a while. We saw a few lights down in the valley below; we saw the lights of lightning bugs in the forest around us, and we saw the bright stars overhead. The stars are so much clearer in the mountains.

Our lazy conversation lasted until midnight. It was a beautiful evening.

 

 Mountain High

High in the mountains
the clouds part
revealing the infinite blackness
of the night sky
pierced by bright points
of white stars
planets
galaxies

Down in the valley
the fog lifts
revealing villages
in the valley
punctuated by lights
house lights
headlights
street lights

Nearby in the trees
the mist clears
revealing fireflies
blinking their signals
like semaphores
metaphors
stars.

Wildacres Day 8

Sunday, July 7, 2013, got off to a great start. I set my alarm for 6:30, got up quietly and walked up to the canteen, where Marci, Carol, and I meditated for 10 minutes. Marci left to go shower, and Carol and I walked around the retreat center for a while until breakfast at 8. The morning meditation just seems to make the whole day go better. I have been meditating on my own almost every day, but it felt very good to sit with a group. My home Sangha will be meeting back on Cape Cod today, and I send them good wishes through that mysterious network of meditation and mindfulness.

After breakfast I did laundry. I feel guilty that most of the folks here would have to go to a Laundromat in Spruce Pine, but the five of us in the guesthouse have our own washer and dryer.

While the laundry was drying I went to the lobby where I got an Internet signal to post this. I also re-read Jessica Handler's guidelines for the critique sessions. I didn't realize I was supposed to write a note to each participant. I'll do that between now (10 a.m.) and the class (2:30 p.m.)

Sunday afternoon was our first workshop class with our teacher, Jessica Handler, who is a successful author. I like her a lot. We talked about the nature of nonfiction. Jessica mentioned the phrase, “true stories well told,” which I like a lot. We discussed the nature of authorial integrity—do you trust the author? Do you trust the narrator’s voice? Other questions to ask are: “Is the setting clear?” and, “What’s at stake?”

We critiques two students’ work, and I volunteered to be one of the students to be critiques on Monday.

After dinner there were readings from four faculty members, and they were very good. I noticed that many of them made reference to Southern culture, reminding me that I am in the South. There was a party in the evening, but I went to bed early.

 

Wildacres Day 7

Wildacres Day 7

Saturday, July 6, 2013, was the end of the writers’ retreat at Wildacres, and the beginning of the writers’ workshop.

 

At 5:30 there was a “mixer” on the patio outside the canteen, although we all had to move inside when it began to rain again. It was an opportunity to meet the new writers who arrived that day. Last week there were about 50 writers and 50 others who were attending workshops for potters and storytellers. On Saturday the potters and storytellers left the mountain and 50 more writers arrived. I am glad I was here for both weeks. I had the first week to get comfortable with 50 other writers, and now more people have arrived.

 

After dinner, we had an orientation. Besides the rules and regulations (don’t hike alone, don’t pester the instructors, no smoking), the workshop director, Judi Hill, told a lot of jokes. There are little green dots on the nametags of some of the attendees, including mine. We were told the green dots identified first-time participants, but Judi said it identified people with STD’s. That got a good laugh.

Then we had a little while to gather in our workshop classes. I have signed up for a creative nonfiction workshop with a teacher names Jessica Handler. So in the evening Jessica and 10 students all met in the canteen and got organized. We have all submitted 10-page samples. And we all have copies of them, in a packet that is 100-pages long. Two students volunteered to be the subjects of our first critique session, Sunday. Then we will go over two samples each session.

 

There was also a late-night party at 10 p.m., but I went to bed early because another student, Marci, from Boone, N.C., suggested meditating in the canteen at 7 a.m. I also re-read the samples we will be discussing in the first workshop.