Schedule for 2009
Winter Week on a Cold Beach
Winter 2009: Sunday, January 18-Saturday, January 24, 2009
Spring 2009: Writers' Retreat
Sunday, May 24 to Saturday, May 30.
Fall 2009: Writing Marathon
Sunday, September 13 to Saturday, September 19.
Prices (2009):
All workshops: $500
(Returnees: $450)
Includes: Workshops, Continental Breakfasts, Accommodations
 Top
of page
DIRECTIONS
· NYS Thruway South to Exit 14
·
· Take Garden State Pkwy South to …
· New Jersey Turnpike South to …
·
· Delaware Memorial Bridge to …
· Rte. 13 South to …
·
· Rte. 1 South to …
· Exit 97 in Dover, Del.
· Take Rte 10 to meet up again with Rte. 13 South
· through the DelMarVa Peninsula to …
·
· Chesapeake Bay Bridge-Tunnel ($12 Toll)
· Stay on Rte 13 until you reach Rte. 64 East
·
· From 64 East take Exit 291B (168 South)
· 168 South turns into 158 East which takes you across the
·
· Wright Memorial Bridge to the Outer Banks
·
· In Kitty Hawk follow Rte. 158 into a commercial beach area through
Kill Devil Hills and Nags Head to …
·
· Rte. 12 South, Cape Hatteras National Seashore.
· Go approx. 24 miles (crossing the bridge at Oregon Inlet) to the first
town, Rodanthe.
·
· Make a left at the sign to the Hatteras Island Fishing Pier (Atlantic
Drive).
· Go right at the stop sign.
· Go slowly to the 8th cottage on your right with two decks and signs
for Lewis and Duckdog.
·
· Lost? Call 252-987-2886/Cell: 914-475-1707
Top
of page
Hatteras Workshop Descriptions
Memoir Writing Workshops:
In these traditional "directed" workshops the typical day goes something
like this: after coffee/breakfast, everyone gets together in the living room
for the morning workshop, which consists of several short writing exercises
and a lot of talking about the elements of powerful prose. After lunch (together
or alone) and some writing walk and talk and swim, everyone seeks out their
writing nests--deck/beach/room--and proceeds to write for several hours on
a topic that has emerged from the morning meeting. In the later afternoon
we reconvene to share wine, cheese and thoughts of the writing day. Later
we eat dinner (grill in or go out) and move into the recitation/workshop
phase of the day where everyone reads a selection from that day's output.
It is always fun and always heartening.
Writing Marathons
Fall Marathon: 3000 Words a Day or Bust!
Marathons are less guided and more "pure writing" than the other workshops
I have offered over the years. The intention is to gather people who want
to work on specific projects of their own choosing and give them the
space/time/encouragement/community to write 3000 words a day. The work day
will be a little different than the memoir workshops as well. After
coffee/breakfast and a brief early morning meeting, everyone finds their
own creative spaces and proceeds to do as much unedited writing as possible.
Everyone writes straight through until mid afternoon (eating lunch whenever
hunger strikes) and then stops for R&R ... a swim, a walk on the beach,
a chance to lie in the hammock or take a "field trip" to the Lighthouse or
the Wright Museum or the Pea Island bird sanctuary. Around 6 PM we reconvene
to eat dinner (cook in/go out) and then move into the recitation/wine/workshop
phase of the evening where everyone reads a selection from that day's output.
At the end of the retreat everyone should have at least 10,000 good words
on paper--and be tired and inspired.
Winter Week on a Cold Deserted Beach
January 2006 will be the second time I'll offer a winter retreat. Two years
ago I was down on the island for a week in January desperately trying to
meet my deadline on the Anxious Groom book. I found the light on the beach
as transformative as it was inspiring---and my days down there turned out
to be as productive a creative period as I've ever experienced. Then this
year I brought a group of hearty X-writers down there to share the desolation-and
it was great success. That said, you should know that aside from cold and
windy walks on the beach and some of those late afternoon "field trips" to
local spots of interest, we'll be mostly cottage bound--and trying to heat
up the place with all the furious writing getting done. The schedule will
be pretty much the same as the Fall Marathon, but keep in mind that this
one is longer than the others--Sunday evening to Saturday morning. Please
know, too, that most restaurants on the island will be closed in January,
so most nights we'll take turns cooking for each other-which was actually
a wonderful part of the group experience this past January.
Top
of page
Memoir Workshop Schedule
Day 1
Arrive 6 PM
Preliminary Meeting 7:30-9:30
Day 2
Breakfast 8-9 AM
AM Workshop 9:30-11:30
Lunch 12-1
Writing Time 1-4
Wine/Cheese 4-5
Dinner (on your own)
Evening Meeting/Reading 7:30-9:30
Day 3
Breakfast 8-9 AM
AM Workshop 9:30-11:30
Lunch 12-1
Writing Time 1-4
Wine/Cheese 4-5
Dinner (on your own)
Evening Meeting/Reading 7:30-9:30
Day 4
Breakfast 8-9 AM
AM Workshop 9:30-11:30
Lunch 12-1
Writing Time 1-4
Wine/Cheese 4-5
Communal Dinner (on me)
Evening Meeting/Reading 7:30-9:30
Day 5
Breakfast 7-9 AM
Depart |
Top
of page
OPENING SCENES
Tires whirring over Oregon Inlet, I'll unsnap
the seatbelt, stretch my long bent arms,
reach down into a wrinkled brown bag
and bite hard into a ripe fig. Rte. 12
becomes a long curving
stem
held between thumb
and forefinger, miles
of sea oats and dunes,
greying cottages suddenly
rising up on pilings
in Rodanthe, watch laid face down
on a breezy window ledge, jangling keys
tossed in an empty drawer, shoes
dropped over the railing
into night. Monday
I awake
to the end of sleep.
Thirst of a dog.
Hunger of love. My
tongue
in the sweet meat
of a fig.
Early Tuesday I submit
to tides. Lay on my back,
spread my legs, salty water
lapping old wounds, lifting me off the earth.
Wednesday I toss
the baseball cap,
yank the t-shirt
over my head.
Suck a mushy fig,
spit the stem into
wind.
If it's Thursday Thursday I walk out
of flip flops, bared feet tanning
on shell and stone, burning sand.
Next daylight I refuse
underpants, slipping
into thin shorts,
beads
of sweat on browned
belly,
I nuzzle my mate, inhale
her scent, fingertips on fleshy hips.
Nights grow dark
as my howling tongue.
Mornings come without
word.
Days slither through her legs
like schools of iridescent shrimp.
I smear rancid figs
on my snout.
--SL
|
|
