On List-Making, Butt-wiping, and Other Daily Accomplishments

I was going to sit down and start writing right away today, but instead I started shopping online for a new shower curtain. Similarly, ever since I’ve returned home five days ago from my week-long writing retreat, I’ve only managed to scrawl one harried journal entry (truly, just a glorified to-do list), and to read two short essays from a book.

Harried is the word that best describes the mental state I have returned to, or rather, the usual state that I dwell in. I’m not necessarily stressed out or anxious or worried. But definitely I’m in that constant go-go-go mode, monkey mind jumping from one task to another.

Let’s talk first about email. I barely checked it at all the week I was gone. And you know what? I hardly needed to, because I wasn’t sending stuff out. Although I’d created a ‘vacation responder email’ just in case I missed a query from a potential student or agent, I didn’t receive one technically important email that I would’ve felt bad not responding to right away. I’d pretty much taken care of any pressing worldly business before I left, so I could sink fully into my week alone with no outlying concerns. I know most people who work day jobs outside the home wouldn’t be able to do this. I guess I’m lucky in that way.

But does that mean that my life at home with my child is slow and carefree? No, because I’m trying to squeeze in so much into the few hours I have each week to take care of stuff. And because in the eight or so hours I might have to work each week, I’m trying to prioritize between planning and advertise for an upcoming workshop; editing and querying agents for a manuscript; and also actually writing a few things for this blog and submitting my work to journals again. And that’s just the ‘writerly’ stuff. Let’s not get started on family-related tasks and chores.

Anyway, I’m boring myself already with this litany of “how busy I am,” but I suppose I’m just recovering from a bit of reverse culture shock after coming home from my retreat, thrown back into my normal life, most of which is driven by my own desire and need to plan, to feel productive, and to “make the most of my time.” What this means is: contemplative acts like journaling for journaling’s sake, reading, or going on walks immediately fall by the wayside. (Facebook surfing has also, thankfully, taken a less important seat, which is usually the case after I take a hiatus, but I’m quite certain I’ll gradually warm up to it again in the coming weeks.)

I accomplished a lot during the week I was away. As much as I gave myself permission to just be, open and receptive, to sink back into a contemplative and aware space, I also could not (and did not want to) turn off the part of me that is a tad obsessive about making lists of things to do, and, in turn, keeping tabs on my accomplishments. Because, you see, I need to pat myself on the back regularly, take stock of how much I actually do each day, even if to many it may look like I do nothing but cater to my kid and a few loads of laundry. Or especially if. Yes, making lists is my way of feeling better about myself during weeks where I am not able to accomplish a fraction of the lofty writing goals I set on Monday, because I know this lack of accomplishment isn’t due to laziness. It’s just… the way it is for now. And each approaching year brings the promise of a bit more time and space to do these other jobs, namely writing and teaching, that I have missed and craved and gradually started to inhabit more and more over these last four.

So, in the spirit of my obsessive list-making mind and my present-day reality of too-little time to write beautifully edited essays, I will conclude this post with a few lists.

Things I Accomplished During My Week at Hypatia-in-the-Woods:

1. Organized files on my computer.
2. Edited an old flash nonfiction piece.
3. Journaled every day, a lot.
4. Wrote a blog post (to be posted when I returned home).
5. Wrote and edited a full-blown new essay called, Open Receptivity: On Becoming a Mother-Writer.
6. Read through my old manuscript-in-progress, Artifacts of Longing, written pre-motherhood and abandoned since giving birth. You can get a glimpse of the original seed for the project here.
7. Made a new outline for said manuscript and for the chapters and sections I’m newly inspired to write. Later in the week, edited that outline, which now includes lots of highlighter and excited scribbles.
8. Read seven books (!) and several poems to boot.
9. Made a new collage from National Geographic images. Actually glued it down this time.
10. Took a short daily walk through the mossy woods.
11. Wrote a letter to Cedar in his long-abandoned baby book.
12. Read and transcribed a few letters between Els and Frank for the manuscript.
13. Wrote a short piece about Cedar skyping with his great-grandmother.
14. Talked for an hour on the phone to an old friend.
15. Re-read or skimmed most of my blog posts on motherhood from the last few years, and free-wrote a response. (Also, noted which were my favorites so I could make a ‘favorite posts’ page when I returned to Seattle.)
16. Slept in every day.
17. Read late every night.
18. Listened to lots of old nostalgic music.
19. Wasn’t drawn to drinking most nights, except my last night whereupon I overdid it and stayed up late dancing to me and Matthew’s old dance party mix that we made for our wedding. (It’s like five hours long. And very good.)
20. Met some wonderful people from the board who graciously welcomed me into their home, and fed me pizza and sushi.
21. Cried and gave thanks to the universe for my good fortune, and for the way life has circled around again to give me this opportunity to sink back into my old identity as a writer. And just to be: a woman, writing, alone.

Things I’ve Done Since I’ve Returned:

1. Sent something like 40 emails.
2. Planned two, maybe three, summer vacations.
3. Organized a rotating schedule of summer play dates (after realizing we couldn’t afford camps).
4. Budgeted money; made various unscientific calculations.
5. Bought birthday jammies for Cedar, initiated his first week of not wearing diapers at night!
6. Spent some good quality time with Cedar, including taking him to a rock and gem show, going to preschool together, hanging out with my sister and niece, going to Dick’s, going to Heaven Sent (fried chicken; it was on my bucket list; needed to see if it was going to be as good as my memory of Ezells; it wasn’t); watching three movies (Dumbo, which has an incredibly psychedelic sequence of dancing/mutating pigs, no doubt what the creators were taking there!; Blue Jasmine (in which Cate Blanchett was really good); and Adore (for those of you who might enjoy a young man/older woman fetish, which I swear I don’t!). Note: the latter two movies were note viewed with Cedar).
7. Posted my blog post on Day Two at Hypatia, in which I also spread the word about their residency openings.
8. Made that new “Favorite Posts and Writing” page on my blog.
9. Shared a few calls for submissions on my Heart Radical Facebook page.
10. Scheduled various other things: dentist appointment, date night, birthday plans, etc.
11. Started organizing photos to make photo book for preschool.
12. Decorated a poster of photos with Cedar for his upcoming “special week” at school.
13. Marveled at how much things had bloomed in one week: the hyacinths, forsythia, quince next door, Indian plum, a couple more daffodils, all opened up while I was away.
14. Cooked, cleaned, laundry, dishes, staring at piles of unfinished projects and other dirty or misplaced things. Bought cat food and groceries and tampons. And stamps. (File under: chores).
15. Took a rejection from a coveted literary agent in stride; mostly (sniff).
16. Submitted an old piece for publication.
17. Made multiple new to-do lists for the weeks ahead.
18. Scheduled more childcare to preserve sanity.
19. Posted this. (Or I plan to anyway, before dashing off to get Cedar soon.)

That’s pretty much it. I’ll spare you the real nitty-gritty, like wiping butts or combing my cat for fleas. No other grand notes to end on. Just my desire to keep writing, in whatever way I can. To actually find (make) the time to keep generating new stuff in the midst of parenting, and all my other teaching and publishing goals. To keep taking things, one day, one list, and one thing crossed off at a time.

A Week Alone to Write

I just returned home on Saturday from an amazing week spent alone in the 'Holly House' at Hypatia-in-the-Woods in Shelton, WA. They actually have some openings right NOW (now - April 5 and April 13- June 1), for women residents in the arts, as well as women in academia and entrepreneurship to stay for a week or more. Please contact director@hypatiainthewoods.org if you are interested in learning more details, for they are no longer the same as what is detailed on the website.

Here is what I wrote on my second day alone, as I started soaking in this gift. I plan to post another post soon, wherein I'll reflect on what I actually accomplished, and my re-entry into my "other life" as a mom and wife at home.

 Day Two at Hypatia

It’s 3:30 on Monday and I am still in my bathrobe. I woke at my usual 6:30, but luxuriously went back to sleep until 9:15. I rose, made coffee, then sat at the table to write, the space all around: silent. Returning to this lost morning ritual of mine felt strange in a way; these days I’m so used to drinking my coffee in the Lazyboy, slowly waking up while checking Facebook on  my i-phone, while Cedar watches cartoons and eats his peanut butter and jelly toast across from me on the couch. Could I really sit down right away and begin writing? And whatever will I work on?

I arrived at the Holly House yesterday shortly after noon. After putting my food in the fridge, my suitcase in the loft, my toiletries in the bathroom, and my writing supplies on the dining room table, I wondered, what should I do? I’m so used to living in the time-space now where one should not ‘waste’ a single precious moment of solitary, potentially writing time. And yet, I knew better than to think I could just start writing right away. I needed to give myself time to settle in. To rearrange the furniture so that the comfortable chair faced out near the window, to make room for my books on the table nearby, and to sit, journal, and read while staring out at the trees.

After an hour or so, I deigned to get out the big folder of writing I brought-- a manuscript, put on hold for the last four years, that I’ve come here to work on. I needed to flip through it, familiarize myself with it again, remember how far into the story I’d once gotten, where I’d left off, what I’d once outlined, and to see if or how any of this still resonated in me. I gave it a quick glance, despaired for a moment at how bad some of the writing was, and wondered if I’d have to start the whole thing over again from scratch. But I knew better than to go down that route of worry or serious inquiry yet. I still needed to just remember how to slow down, how to be quiet, how to be patient, how let my body and heart inhabit this place.

So I decided to start reading one of the 15 (yes) books I brought for my week’s stay, and later to go for a walk around the lovely 12 acres or so of mossy woods that surrounds this cabin, to walk a labyrinth someone built in an orchard, and to familiarize myself with the surroundings. Then, after a bit more sifting through old work and a welcoming dinner with three members of Hypatia’s board (pizza in a couple’s home), I returned home. Yes, home. I fully intend to make myself at home in this cabin and to soak in every moment that I am here.

That brings me to now, to day two. This morning, I was still experiencing a bit of that unsettled feeling: what am I called to work on? How will I utilize my time here? The project that I proposed working on in my application is the one that details the story of my inheritance from my old neighbor: about eight years ago, I inherited a cabin in Seattle, along with the artifacts, slides, journals, and hundreds of letters between the couple, Els and Frank, who lived there for forty-some years. During my pregnancy, I’d read all of the letters, no small feat. Then, two months before giving birth, I spent three amazing weeks at Hedgebrook, working and being fed and nurtured in a community of women writers on Whidbey Island. During those two weeks, I not only re-read and archived many of the letters, but I also completed a first draft of maybe half of the manuscript. I left with the solid form of a real book on my hands, and a clear outline for what remained to be written.

Yet I knew that a baby was soon coming. And although I would write a few essays related to this project in the next few years to come, I mostly just blogged motherhood and worked to finish my first manuscript (SEARCHING FOR THE HEART RADICAL), but otherwise accepted that I would need to put this second book (working title: ARTIFACTS OF LONGING) on hold.

Now, I finally have some breathing space. Enter: this week-long retreat. Hypatia-in-the-woods. I packed my computer, printer, books, both manuscripts, and some collage supplies (for evening art-making, if so inspired), and drove two hours south to Shelton, a town outside of Olympia, my old college stomping grounds and Matthew’s hometown. It felt a homecoming of sorts. Back to the last place I lived before I was married or with a child. Back to a familiar, yet also distant and foreign, immersion in solitude and nature. Back to a span of days before me where my sole goal is to sit at a desk and write. What a luxury! It feels like a circle completing itself from the last time I worked on this project, in a cabin at Hedgebrook, while pregnant. Yet now, as a mom, I understand this luxury in a whole new context. And not just to write for seven whole days, but also to read and make art at night to my heart’s content! It is hard to describe how happy and grateful I am to be here.

Yesterday, it was all I could do but sit in a chair, read, and scribble a few lines of this gratitude. But today, I am warming up to a more productive, humming mode of creativity. I’ve given the old manuscript a thorough reading. I’ve made notes about what pieces (or whole sections) might still be missing or how others might be rearranged. I’ve poured over a few multiple drafts of the same chapter, in order to figure out which to throw out or keep or integrate together. In short, I’m already feeling reinvested in this work. True, it also feels very daunting right now to think about re-immersing myself in a new book when I don’t even have an agent, much less a book deal for the first one. But, that’s precisely what this week is for. To get over the daunting-ness. I knew that it would be hard to make that transition in my normal day-to-day where I’m still lucky to squeeze out a few hours of writing time most weeks, and that the ideal way to “re-enter” would be to spend a few concentrated days with the material, and to give myself the gift of this in between breath, this interlude, this transition.

So now it’s 4:00. The day feels long and spacious, especially without T.V., Internet, or even cell reception. I’ve been listening for hours to an old, mellow world music mix on my I-pod player. The sky is blue. The forest beckons. I’m ready to get dressed, go out, and then come home to my cabin again and eat, read, and sink into the evening hours. Tomorrow, I think I’ll be ready to dive into new writing. And to practice staying open and receptive to the moment and how it calls me to follow one subject or another, and one form or another-- be it list-making, free-writing, editing, or poetry. Yes, poetry! After my walk yesterday I found myself spontaneously writing in verse. This hasn’t happened in a VERY long time, and I’ve always hesitated to call anything I write poetry. That tells me something about the ripe potency of this week to come.

Writing and Publishing Flash Nonfiction:  A Four-Week Intensive

Saturdays; April 19 - May 10, 2014; 
10 a.m. -1 p.m.

Where: Good Shepherd Center in Wallingford
Cost: $160 if you register by 2/28/14; after that:
$180 by check or $185 by Paypal (complete registration details below)

Flash nonfiction is a popular short form that is dense with lyricism and meaning. In this four-week intensive, we will dive into writing and revising our own flash nonfiction, aiming to push our own boundaries of voice and experimentation. 

Together we will:

• Generate plenty of new writing from prompts;
• Read and discuss diverse examples of flash nonfiction;
• Share from our writing (on a voluntary basis) in a supportive space;
• Learn how to respectfully give feedback to our peers;
• Discover online literary journals that publish flash (like brevity.com);
• And learn about submitting work for publication.

  
Registration Details:

Please first email me (Anne) at alkellor@gmail.com to confirm space in the workshop. Please note that I cannot hold your spot until payment is received.  

You may pay either pay by check sent to my secure mailbox, or by Paypal below:

Flash Nonfiction

Early Bird (by 2/28) $160.00 USD    After 2/28 $185.00 USD

Refund Information for all workshops:

1) If the workshop does not fill to the minimum (4 students), I will notify you in advance and issue a refund to your credit card or by personal check. 
2) Full refunds may be obtained if I receive written notice at least 2 weeks prior to the first day of the workshop. 
3) Full tuition minus a $20 cancellation fee can be refunded if written notice is given at least 3 days prior to the first day of the workshop. If you need to cancel later than this, due to my own commitments (i.e. space rental) I unfortunately can not offer a monetary refund unless I am able to fill your spot, although I can offer credit toward editing and mentoring services, or future classes. Please let me know if you have any questions and thanks for your understanding.  

Please don't hesitate to email me at alkellor@gmail.com if you have any questions about any of my workshops!

Warm wishes, 

Anne

Finding the Heart of Your Birth Story

Spaces are still available in next Saturday's Writing Your Birth Story Workshop!

 

Saturday, February 22, 2014 from 10-3 (with one-hour lunch break)

Where: The Good Shepherd Center in Wallingford (4649 Sunnyside Ave N, Seattle, WA 98103)

Cost: $65; with additional writing and feedback options available (see below).

Enrollment limited to 10.
One "pay-what-you-can' spot available; please inquire for details.

Most often, we think of a birth story as starting somewhere around your first contractions and ending with your child’s first breaths. But a birth story can also include aspects of your pregnancy, your efforts to conceive, or your relationships with others who were involved with the process. A birth story can examine your hopes, fears, expectations, elation and sorrow. A birth story might also stretch to reflect upon your first weeks or months of motherhood, and where the birth of your child has taken you both internally and externally. Whether you had a relatively peaceful birthing experience or an experience that was traumatic, giving birth is a profound experience that can be empowering to process and record.

In this one-day* workshop, we will explore our birth experiences through a series of free-writing exercises. Participants will also be encouraged (but not required) to share from their writing, in a safe and non-judgmental space. 

*After the in-person workshop, you may sign up for the option to submit a rough draft of your birth story to Anne at a later date for extensive feedback (see details below).

Whether you hope to share your story with others, to write it for your child, or simply to write it for yourself, this workshop can help you unearth deeper insight into the heart of your birthing experience and to articulate your story in a new and healing way.  

“What I loved most about this course was the chance to write what I needed to write. I assumed that I would write about labor but once in the class I wanted to write about so, so much more. It was also so motivating to hear everyone else's stories. Plus the fact that it was a class made me commit to sitting down and making my writing happen. Anne is a wonderful, kind, insightful instructor.”- Kristin AnthonyMalone 

(Please note: Although writing about your birth experience is often therapeutic, this is a writing workshop, and not intended as therapy. Many women whom have experienced traumatic births find it essential to seek support from groups and/or professionals to address the real and important issues and emotions arising from difficult birth experiences.) 

 

 Registration Details:

1. Please first email me (Anne) at alkellor@gmail.com to confirm space in the workshop. Please note that I cannot hold your spot until payment is received.  
2. You may pay either pay by check sent to my secure mailbox, or by Paypal:
   
   
   
   
   
   
   

*Additional Birth Story Feedback Option:

1. After the workshop, if you decide you would like to continue to develop your free-writing into a more substantial draft, whether for your own personal satisfaction or for publication purposes, you may sign up to send a rough draft of your birth story to me with one of the following due date options: March 3, March 17, or March 24.
2. My feedback will consist of: a lengthy letter addressing your birth story, including: what themes I feel lie at the heart of the story; what questions I have for you; where you could potentially cut back or expand; how to improve the structure or flow of your piece; and other smaller editing or resource suggestions. All feedback will be given in a thorough, respectful manner, and will seek to challenge you to make your draft the very best it can be.
3. I typically spend about 3 hours making extensive comments on a draft (that is about 10-20 pages double-spaced), as well as writing a lengthy summary letter. My editing/mentoring rate is $35-$50 an hour (sliding scale), with some considerations made for those in need.
4. I am also more than happy to work with you on a future revision of your draft.
   For more information or questions, please feel free to email me (alkellor@gmail.com), or to visit the 'testimonials', 'more about me', or 'mentoring' pages on my blog. Thanks so much, Anne

Writing Compassion: Half-day Workshop on 2/15

Friends, I’m excited to announce the first of several upcoming workshops in 2014!

Compassion: to be with, feel with, suffer with

“Without compassion, we will never know anyone or anything, not even our own story. Too much judgment, too many ideas and attitudes will stand in the way of the fundamental principle that we are similar to, connected with, and part of everything else.” - Deena Metzger, from Writing for Your Life

When: Saturday, February 15^th, 10 a.m. - 2 p.m.

(with 30-45 min. lunch break)

Where: George: Center for Community; 2212 NE 125th Street; Seattle, WA 98125

Cost: $50-$60 (sliding scale); one “pay-what-you-can” scholarship available.

Complete registration details below.

If you seek to create more space in your life for contemplation, or if you have a desire to write, come join us for an inspiring day of inner exploration. In this workshop, we will explore the role of compassion in our lives through a series of free-writing exercises. As we practice writing and listening from a safe place of non-judgment and openness, we will delve into the intimate terrain of our hearts, including: the many ways in which we love and suffer, the people we care for, and the people we struggle to forgive. Participants will be encouraged (but no one is required) to share from their writing, and no prior writing experience is necessary. Brief meditations and resources for furthering your compassionate writing practice will be provided. All are welcome.

To register:  

Please first email Anne to confirm there is space (enrollment is limited to 15).Then you can either pay by check  made payable to St. Andrews and mailed to: 111 80th Ave NE Seattle, WA 98115; Attn. Bookkeeper.  
Please include a note that says payment is for Anne Liu Kellor’s workshop on 2/15 at George Center for Community.

Or pay by Paypal below.

Sliding Scale Options

Regular Rate $60.00 USD    Reduced Rate $50.00 USD

 

Questions? For more information, please contact me at alkellor@gmail.com

“The truth is that we are all wounded. The only question is whether we use our wounds to hurt others or whether we use them to become healers.” - Dr. Cornel West

Reading 1/9 and An Overdue Update

Dear Neglected Blog,

I'm sorry I have not written for you in so long. I have been busy working on my book this year, and sadly that means that any personal/working time I have must go to that. I've never been good at short, perky blog posts either, so the longer I wait before updating you, the more of a "serious" task it seems to become. I wish this wasn't the case. I do, in fact, enjoy many aspects of social media (Facebook! 'Find me on Facebook', where I also have goals of updating my Heart Radical page much more often than I do, but where I can more reliably be found popping up regularly via my personal page). Alas, the whole motherhood/SAHM/writing/lack-of-time conundrum still plagues me (see any number of old posts from the last three years that I'm too lazy to hyperlink here).

Anyway, I did want to tell you that I am taking part in the It's About Time Writer's Reading Series at the Ballard Library next Thursday. The reading will go from 6:00 to 7:45. The first twenty minutes will be a "writer's craft" talk. It's free. I would love to see you there, and if you are there and I haven't met you personally, I would love to meet you! (You can go to the link to learn about the series, but the 2014 calendar is not up yet. You can find them on Facebook to see who else will be reading that night.)

I will confess, I still don't know what I am going to read at said reading, but I always love the way a reading makes me go back into my old work, start reading it aloud, refining it, thinking about how to condense a 20 page piece into 7, or otherwise hearing my words again for the first time as I imagine how they will sound to others. I am rusty. I need to practice. I learned this during my time as a Jack Straw writer: the importance of practice. So this reading will be good for me. I will probably read something that I've never published or read aloud before to an audience, since that would describe the bulk of my work. It will be from my forthcoming book. I am now searching for an agent again, finally. An update on this process should also be forthcoming here. Not to mention a New Year's deep reflections (or glorified to-do list) type post. But it ain't gonna happen. Not today, and maybe not for several weeks as I continue to attend to the most immediate tasks before me: planning for spring workshops (stay tuned!), the editing and querying, and, of course, as always, the never-ending domestic multi-tasking of motherhood.

Deep sigh. It's been a kind of funky day. But I wasn't going to go off on a tangent here. This was just going to be a short perky post to tell you about the reading next week! Not an online journal entry, because OF COURSE my blog posts are NEVER like that.

Anyway. Where was I? Blog, I miss you. I want to update you. Make you fancy and new and appealing.

Also, did I mention I AM OPEN TO WORK WITH A COUPLE MORE PEOPLE ONE-ON-ONE? Especially during these next few months. All kinds of options regarding what that could look like/feel like are available. More on that soon here, too (to entice you), but for now, I will simply put it out there to the blogosphere universe, and hope that if someone's meant to hear it, they will. 

So... stay tuned for updates. I'm still trying to confirm venues for workshops, but I'm looking to do a one-day "Writing Compassion" workshop in February, AND a six-week "flash nonfiction" workshop starting in April. 

Sending love,

Anne

 

Writing Transformation: 

A Creative Nonfiction Workshop

When: Saturdays, 10 a.m. - 12 p.m.; 
September 28 - November 23, 2013
(Please note: we will skip Oct. 19, for a total of 8 sessions)
Where: Good Shepherd Center;  
4649 Sunnyside Ave N  Seattle, WA 98103
Cost: $247 by check; $252 by Paypal; receive $20 off your tuition if you register by August 26th.

Everything is changing; every moment we are being changed. In this workshop, we will explore the continual flux of our minds, hearts, and lives, while generating many pages of new writing. Each session, we will free-write together from prompts and be given the opportunity to share our words in a supportive, non-judgmental space. As we listen to others and ourselves, we will seek to recognize where the energy lies in our writing, identify what stories we most need to write about, and dare to be surprised by what we find.
           
Each week, we will also read essays and memoirs from authors such as Brenda Miller, Terry Tempest Williams, Maxine Hong Kingston, and David Shields. As we discuss their work, we will look closely at the craft of writing, paying attention in particular to the creative possibilities of structure and point of view (e.g. lyric forms such as collage or braided essays, flash nonfiction, etc.), as well as the power of details and language. Participants may also opt to submit a rough draft of a piece to the instructor during week 6 for extensive, constructive feedback, however this is not a workshop/critique-based class.
           
Ultimately, we will seek to locate the heart of our stories and to identify their major metaphors or themes. We will ask ourselves: Beneath the obvious storyline, what are we really writing about here, and how is our inner landscape being changed?  


Minimum # of students: 5; maximum: 9.

Recommended prior reading: Natalie Goldberg’s Old Friend from Far Away: The Practice of Writing Memoir, Wild Mind; OR Writing Down the Bones.

Former Writing Transformation participants speak:

 

This workshop truly was inspirational, transformational, safe. Surpassed my expectations by developing my reader ear-- loved that! One thing I learned is that when I take risks in writing, and share that writing with an appreciative group of other writing risk takers, I discover more of myself -- and I trust I can grow from that discovery. Anne is skilled at group process and created a safe passage for all of us to write and share our writing.   -- Pennie O’Grady

Taking this class was the first step into the birth of a totally new perspective, of which I’m feeling the birthing pains acutely. The encouragement via practice and more practice-- so helpful. I was surprised at how much energy and momentum the workshop gave my writing. Suddenly I found it was all I was talking about, reading about, and wanting to do. I also really love the conversation and relationships formed when working in close proximity to other writers. Additionally, you managed to expand my horizons into modern authors and provide relevant and personal suggestions for reading. Lots of new energy into an angsty place. -- Candace Morris

Thanks for creating such a safe, nonjudgmental space for me to share my writing and for answering my questions with thoughtful, knowledgeable advice. I feel very motivated to continue writing! -- Renee

To read more testimonials or to learn more about my mentoring philosophy, please visit the other pages on my blog.
 
To Register or for Questions, please email me at: alkellor@gmail.com  and I will fill you in on details.  Please note: Your tuition is required to hold your spot in the workshop. Paying in installments (half now; half on first day may be possible).

Thank you! 

Anne

Refund Information

1) If the workshop does not fill to the minimum (5 students), I will notify you in advance and issue a refund to your credit card or by personal check.
2) Full refunds may be obtained if I receive written notice at least 2 weeks prior to the first day of the workshop. 
3) Full tuition minus a $20 cancellation fee can be refunded if written notice is given at least 3 days prior to the first day of the workshop. If you need to cancel later than this, I unfortunately can not offer monetary refunds, although I can offer credit towards editing/mentoring services, or future classes. Please let me know if you have any questions and thanks for your understanding.