And so this week’s moment of happiness despite the news.
Today is the start of the AllWriters’ Annual Retreat. AllWriters’ Workplace & Workshop LLC is my business, an international creative writing studio that offers online and on-site courses and workshops in all genres and abilities of creative writing, as well as coaching and editing services. AllWriters’ will be 20 years old in January. I was told, when I approached a bank almost 20 years ago to start the studio, that I had no business being in business. I left that bank, started the studio anyway without any kind of loan whatsoever, and 20 years later, here it is.
Bam.
And this will be the 19th Annual Retreat. It is my favorite weekend of the year, even though I am basically on stage from Thursday night to Sunday afternoon. It’s. So. Much. Fun.
For every year of AllWriters’, Michael stood behind me. For every retreat, he was there. He ran through all the background stuff, keeping the fridge stocked, the kitchen loaded, the food ready, snacks on the workshop table. In our first years of the retreat, we provided three meals a day, and Michael cooked them all.
This year will be the first year that I have the retreat without Michael.
And while I lecture, hold one-on-one consultations, lead workshops, and do after-hours things, like play Cards Against Humanity, enjoy a shot or two of Fireball, and talk until I’m hoarse, I will be deep in grief.
But at the same time, at the thought of getting all the writers today under one roof, and spending a four-day weekend with them, encouraging them, teaching them, and doing everything I can to make sure that they know they can do what they set out to do, I am giddy with anticipation.
If Michael was here, he would be giddy with me.
This afternoon, while talking with a coaching client who is attending the retreat for the first time, he asked me how I can read all the manuscripts at all different levels of ability, and in all genres. How, he wondered, do I read the genres that I would not typically read out of my own choice.
“I couldn’t do that,” he said.
I can.
When I look back over what will soon be 29 years of teaching, 20 of them running my own studio, I don’t see the genres. I see the faces. And it’s those faces that keep me reading and reading and reading…and teaching. My students’ goals become mine. Though I have my own for myself too.
I respect and honor words. I respect and honor writing and writers, no matter what they write, no matter where they are in their careers. And I just love what I do.
Michael was originally my student. We only knew each other through a writers’ chatroom online. He was trying to cross over from writing radio drama into short stories. And he asked me to read his first short story.
I did. And by the time we were finished going back and forth with drafts, the story was sold to the Strand magazine. He was published alongside Ray Bradbury.
That’s what a writer can do. And that’s what a good teacher can do, when a teacher truly loves what she does.
But Michael, you know, he just happened to be a student who I ended up marrying. And staying married to for what will be 25 years in October.
It’s what I do, both writing and teaching, that is getting me through this dark time now. I feel the deepest grief over the loss of Michael. And I feel the greatest joy when I am with my students and clients.
This weekend, while I will be looking over my shoulder constantly, wondering where Michael is and why he’s not here to help me, I will also be steeped in what I consider my purpose and path and just…I’ll use the word again, because there isn’t any other. Joy.
My Moment right now is anticipation. But my full Moment is going to start at 7:00 tonight, when my students, writers from 8 different states, will be sitting in front of me in all their glory. And it will end, except for the warm memories which I will bask in for weeks, at 2:00 Sunday when I see them walk out to return to their lives.
I am so very lucky.
And yes, that helps. Despite. Anyway.
