Spark Writing Retreat

This weekend, my friend and I went down to Ojai for the Spark Women's Writing Retreat hosted by Kelle Hampton, Claire Bidwell Smith, and Annie Flavin.  I chose to go for two main reasons:   One, I knew I had some writing about Tessa's birth and death that I needed to get out, but I don't ever devote time to it.  Two, I wanted to start writing more in order to remember more.  I always get teased for my terrible memory, but it's true . . . I can't remember really important things in my life, not just from my childhood, but from today.  I suppose I should get this checked out by my doctor, but for now, I am going to try to write more so I don't lose out on some incredible memories.

The retreat was incredible.  I walked into the house extremely nervous, but I could quickly tell that everyone who attended had something in common . . . we were all there to share and to write.  The women I met this weekend are remarkable.  There were lots of amazing stories — big stories and little stories, sad stories and happy stories, stories of fear and hope.  So many incredible stories.

Claire, Kelle, and Annie led us in some writing exercises during our workshop time.  This time was so valuable to me, as I'm not an experienced writer.  I was actually shocked at some of the writing that flowed from my pen onto the pages in my notebook:

• A present tense account of Tessa's birth, before I knew anything bad was coming, that made the experience so much more joyful than writing it in the past tense, which is all I had done before.  I forced myself to go back to the moments leading up to her birth and write as I remember things happening, the moments of sheer joy, anticipation, and nerves.   It's a HAPPY story in the present tense.

• A letter to Ambulance Driver and Ambulance Driver's Partner, who drove me from one hospital to the other when Tessa was transferred to the NICU.  I've thought of them often because I simply remember laughing my guts out in the back of that ambulance.  Laughter did not come back into my life for many weeks, maybe even months, but those two showed me a good time during my darkest days.  I intend to track them down and deliver my written thanks. 

• Writing about the ordinary . . . this is for my memory and this is what I hope to do more often.  I wrote a simple account about giving Elise a bath these days.  She does some pretty hilarious things in the bath that I want to remember in the future.  

• Writing short!  This is Annie Flavin's area of expertise and I found her workshops to be so very helpful.  The truth is, I really don't have a ton of time to write, but what I learned is that I don't have to write much.  Even one short paragraph or poem every so often is enough.  I wish I had time to write more, and I know there are things I spend time on that I could give up, but the reminder that writing doesn't have to be long was a good one!  (The only reason I have time to write this LONG post is because I'm home sick.)

Here's one of the short pieces of writing I did this weekend . . .

In the quiet of the evening
before your sister falls into a deep slumber,
we sit in the rocking chair and look up
at your brave, angelic face
and we say your name.
You watch over us.
To show you our love,
we sing to you . . .
silly songs, lullabies to wish you a good night.
May our voices, our smiles, our warm snuggles
our eskimo kisses, our love
reach across the dark, starry night
to connect with you.
Good night.