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.
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