Writing retreats – Betsy Devany

The Writing Barn’s Magic

Posted on March 1, 2013 by Betsy

SONY DSC More months than I would have hoped for have passed since my last blog post. It’s not as if I haven’t been writing. I have. For hours on end. At this time in my life, the work I do on my novels bears more importance because ultimately, I want to leave something behind on this earth. Something beautiful. Whether it be through published works, photographs, or by inspiring the children I encounter on a daily basis, this is where my main focus remains. Still, I enjoy blogging, so I am jumping back in with hopes that I can resume a more regular routine. Thank you for bearing with me.

I recently returned from a three-day stay at The Writing Barn in Austin, Texas. This inspiring place of sanctity is run by author Bethany Hegedus, who couldn’t be more kind, welcoming, or talented. The Writing Barn is just as welcoming with its endless shelves of books, calming figurines, and the artwork of E. B. Lewis, all of which greets you when you walk through the front door. Before you even unpack your bags, you know you won’t want to leave. You want to breathe everything in, read the array of fabulous novels, books on writing, all there for visitors to enjoy. You want to sit outside and watch hawks soar above the grounds, traipse past cactus plants in search of a bunny you spot on the drive in. And the baby deer romping through the thicket, you want to enjoy their presence.

You unpack your bag and get to work, because that is why you are here. To learn. To grow. To absorb the energy that exists in this beautiful place. To look deep into your current WIP and be truthful about what needs to change. Because in order to grow, one must change, even in the way we approach our writing.

I was fortunate to have a dear writer friend with me. Both Nanci Turner Steveson and I had important revisions to tackle. We read each other’s manuscripts ahead of time. We took vows to be honest, painfully honest about what didn’t work, while emphasizing the positive qualities. I struggle with preferring to know where I’ve fallen short in my writing, probably because I thrive on revision. It makes me feel alive and brings out the best in me. I ask my wonderful agent to hold nothing back in terms of questions or asking me to delve deeper. The more intense a revision, the more I grow as both a person and a writer.

My stay at The Writing Barn did wonders for my soul. It could have been the colorful lanterns that swing in the trees, the sound of Nanci tapping on her laptop with her headphones on, or the moments of clarity that would happen after taking a photography break outside. There is a sense of peace here, and the best writing juju. While not quite tangible, you feel the wisdom left behind by previous writers, many of them published authors. In the porch beyond the kitchen, the wooden beams hold the signatures of published illustrators/writers. Every now and then I’d look above me, knowing that I, too, would sign a beam one day.

We have to believe in our writing, even when we close ourselves around our work, protecting it. Do not be afraid to do this. Think of your work as precious, like a baby fawn not ready to be on its own. For the most part, all else is beyond your control. The only thing that matters is that you do the work. Day in and day out, to the best of my ability. My father always told me to protect the energy surrounding a story, to keep it safe, until it was strong enough to send out into the world.

So that’s what I’ve been doing since I returned from The Writing Barn. Revising, revising, revising. Writing, writing, writing. Aside from that, I am living life, always thankful for the people I hold closest to my heart, thankful for the wonderful books I read each night before falling asleep, and thankful that places like The Writing Barn exist.

My deepest gratitude to Bethany Hegedus, who believed in creating this barn of wonder and inspiration and much beauty. Thank you for sharing your joy of writing with others.

For more on information on booking an individual writing retreat or attending one of their classes, go to: http://www.thewritingbarn.com.

Whispering Pines Writing Retreat 2012

Posted on April 13, 2012 by Betsy

This year, the method for choosing Whispering Pines attendees came down to the luck of the draw: a lottery. As long as you met the deadline, you had a chance at having your name pulled from the hat. But within a few weeks, I received a sympathetic e-mail from the lovely Mary Pierce. While I felt a sense of loss, I quickly moved on. I spent more hours writing each day, finished another novel, and wrote two new picture books. Writing fills my soul, but I kept flipping to the month of March on the calendar, yearning for the pines that whisper in the early morning, for my friends, and for the opportunities to improve my craft.

Why is the Whispering Pines Writer’s Retreat so special? In an intimate setting, it is one of a kind. Yes, the food is fabulous, the setting breathtaking, but in truth it comes down to the mentors. Because of Lynda Mullaly Hunt’s efforts, attendees spend the weekend with welcoming, generous, and astute editors, agents, writers, and illustrators. So when Lynda announced a few openings (provided you wrote picture books), I received a “Yes, you’re in!” e-mail. And on Friday, March 23, I bid my family farewell and headed to West Greenwich, Rhode Island.

As soon as you turn down the road leading to the retreat center, your body relaxes. You open your car window to suck in the fresh air. The pine trees pull you further along, welcoming you. Come, they whisper. You are a writer. Come be with your kind.

This year, our fabulous mentors included Michelle Poploff, Vice President, Executive Editor at Delacorte Press; Yolanda Scott, editorial director at Charlesbridge; Andrea Carcardi, Agent at Transatlantic Literary Agency; Suzanne Bloom, Author/Illustrator; Alexis O’Neill, Marketing/School Visits Expert/Author; and Jo Knowles, YA Novelist. When not critiquing individuals, they were available to attendees, always offering encouragement. Their first pages panel offered honest opinions, and ultimately a mini-class on how to craft a first page and grab the reader’s attention from the get go. . Even though my work was not included, I learned so much. I always do.

Attendees indulged in the finest of foods, had one-on-one critiques, blocks of individual writing time, and critique group sessions. Our annual basket raffle turned into a successful silent auction. Our mentors gave hour-long presentations on both Saturday and Sunday, while the weekend ended with another lively game of Jeopardy.

Alexis O’Neill shared her tips for giving school presentations, and always, you knew the feelings of kids were foremost in her mind. I highly recommend you visit and study Alexis’ website: www.schoolvisitsexpert.com. As she told us, “My assembly is always about the kids. What can I do for them?” I could not have asked for a better mentor that weekend. Alexis critiqued one of my picture book manuscripts and helped guide me in the right direction. (We both realized during my session that our names were familiar. Alexis was a judge for the 2011 Barbara Karlin Grant. My picture book manuscript, Norman and Rose, won the runner-up grant. A small world, indeed.)

Andrea Cascardi also spoke to my heart. With 20 years of editorial experience, she is a hands-on agent, offering an editorial eye. She told us to trust our gut, and listening to her, I felt as if I had found my way home. Andrea discussed the importance of moving the human heart and offering hope. One must dig deep, but also know when to take a step back. Thank you, Andrea! I am digging deeper because of you.

Yolanda Scott discussed picture books, an absolute love of mine. She shared Charlesbridge’s unique qualities, and then discussed the vital elements of picture books: character, plot, and voice. Whenever an editor gushes over their love of picture books, I am spellbound. Thank you, Yolanda! Your words drive my current revisions, keeping me focused on the importance of structure, and picking the stronger emotional path.

Michelle Poploff addressed setting, how it has a life of its own. Details are what bring a book to life, as long as it is all for the good of the story. What struck me the most about Michelle is how she champions her authors. An enthusiastic editor is a dream editor. I also loved being introduced to novels she has worked on. Some I was not familiar with, though that will change. Books have been ordered. Thank you, Michelle!

I have met Jo Knowles before, having attended her workshop at an Encore Presentation though New England SCBWI. Jo has a way of making you less afraid to reach deep inside, knowing it will stir emotions and memories. She addressed the importance of first pages, citing a number of examples. Jo reminded us that our job is to compel the reader early on, so to keep them reading. As a volunteer, I won an arc of See You at Harry’s. This is a beautiful story, and one that obviously came from deep within Jo’s gracious spirit. Thank you, Jo! www.joknowles.com

I think about Suzanne Bloom, how she shared some of her artwork from childhood, and I smile. Watching her draw was magical. Listening to her read A Splendid Friend, Indeed was sheer delight. Suzanne talked about making choices, her love of peeling back. “It is all about what is going to work out there,” she said. And Suzanne is right. For picture books, children need fun words, juiciness, flow, and rhythm. Like Alexis, she stressed how she is all about the children, telling us to fall in love with our characters. And in the end, she reminded us how lucky we are. We are doing our art. I am grateful for this gift. Suzanne’s words stuck with me as I drove away from the retreat. They still stick with me now while I write and revise: “You do it for the children.” Thank you, Suzanne! www.suzannebloom.com

This weekend would not happen without the dedication and hard work of a number of volunteers, but mostly two people: Lynda Mullaly Hunt and Mary Pierce. Mary took on more responsibilities this year to help Lynda, whose first novel, One for the Murphys, comes out in May. www.lyndamullayhunt.com I cannot wait for my copy to arrive, for if it reflects even a small amount of Lynda’s essence, the book will be a gift to the world of children’s literature. When I think of Lynda, a single image comes to mine, one that has beckoned to me in previous years, but more so this time: the rock in the lake. In the way that Lynda supports us, humors and cares for us, she is a rock. She is our rock, and the Whispering Pines Retreat reflects who she is as a human being. Thank you, Mary! Thank you, Lynda!

As I drove away from the weekend, leaving my friends, feeling a bit sad, I realized this year’s message: It is all about the children. What can we give them? How can we shape the future through our stories? How can we offer hope? Laughter? Encouragement? How can our characters, who breathe life onto our pages, be examples of strength through their own struggles? How can we introduce more heroes to this world?

You must take a vow to give your very best. Make writing your profession, even if you work elsewhere. Carve time in your day to write. Carve time in your busy schedule to attend writing workshops or retreats. Seek out mentors. Become a mentor. Children deserve our best.

Yes, writing can be lonely. It takes conviction and courage to spend hours in solitude. Yet it is a gift. As Suzanne Bloom says, we are doing our art. So open your heart, dig deep into that place of aching, and let the thought of giving something back to the children of this world lead and inspire you to revise, and revise, and revise, until you reach a level of excellence. But do not stop there. Continue to learn and grow as a writer for the rest of your life.

It has taken me several weeks to blog about Whispering Pines 2012, and then I realized why. I have a tradition of calling my father after every conference or retreat. He would relish in my words, wanting to know what I’d learned. Always pushing me to dig deeper. Since he passed in September, this is the first Whispering Pines Retreat I could not share with him.

So before I finalize this post, I sit on my porch, admiring the clouds. Visualizing my father’s spirit, somewhere in the blue sky. Surrounding me. Watching over me. Encouraging me.

I tell him what I learned at Whispering Pines.

I promise to never give up.

I remind him that whether he is on this earth or not, he will always be my rock. And I am grateful.

How I Found the Wizard (Chautauqua: Day Three)

Posted on August 6, 2011 by Betsy

Though I am eager to start my third day in Chautauqua, I wonder how Monday can match Sunday’s experience. Not only is Send in the Clowns stuck in my head (and I can’t stop singing the song), for last night’s supper, we were treated to the best barbecued chicken I have ever eaten. And then, there were those chocolate frosted brownies next to an invisible sign with my name on it that said, “These special writer’s brownies are meant to be eaten in multiple portions. Do not eat just one!” I think everyone had an invisible sign with his or her name, because I was not the only one going for seconds—and thirds, and then, halfway to the bus, I turned around, yelling to Nanci. “I can’t help it. Save me a seat. Do you want another brownie?”

Prior to being served dinner, we were encouraged to walk the lovely grounds at Westfield and to pick our own blueberries to eat—one of my favorite fruits. I was so smitten with photographing the blueberries that I realized–too late–that I had nothing to collect the blueberries in. I did the next best thing: I ate one after another, until a gentleman offered me his full cup of blueberries. (I savored them for days.) Thank you, kind sir!

My belly full of blueberries, I listened to the birds sing, studied insects on leaves, and then discovered The Land of Dinosaurs Versus Trucks, which is where I was when the call of “Chicken being served,” resounded through the fields.

After everyone had eaten, we settled in our seats, where we quickly fell under Joy Cowley’s spell. If I had attended the Highlights Foundation Writers Workshop in 2010, I would have missed Joy. And I can’t imagine missing the opportunity to connect with her. Joy returned this year after a three-year absence, and she is an absolute joy!

: Joy Cowley

Joy speaks from the heart and from years of experience, and with such love for others, you feel as if you are a child, alone in a room with her, listening to stories. I would have sat there all night if I could. She stressed that we must awaken our senses, connect with our inner child, and that we need to write our stories. This is essential as breathing. To write for children is a spiritual experience.

Joy’s speech lingers in my mind as I walk to the Hall of Christ for Monday’s first general session. On the way, I notice an animal’s tail switching from beneath a plant. I stop and bend down at the curb to look closer. A cat hides in the garden of her home. I say “Good Morning” to the owner and ask her permission to take a picture. “Please do, she loves to pose.” As I reach out and call the cat over to me, the owner tells me her name. This is a wonderful way to start a new day: meeting a cat named Alice.

I remain in Alice’s presence a little too long (Nanci secretly snaps a photo of the two of us), and then I have to run up the hill and find the red brick road (yellow in my mind) that will lead me to the Sanctuary. I arrive five minutes early, in time to grab a cup of coffee and a cold bottle of water. The day is about to get even better: the one and only Peter P. Jacobi is the morning speaker.

Three years ago, I attended a SCBWI conference in Austin, Texas, which is where I first heard Mr. Jacobi speak. He has a presence that commands your attention with brilliance, humor, and an utter devotion to the craft of writing. His voice is rich with musicality and he ends many sentences in an upward swing, as if singing to you. I grab a front-row seat and prepare to go to a place of inspiration, unique to Peter P. Jacobi. Very quickly, he confirms the feeling I had when I first arrived here, that like Dorothy, I escaped the tornado and landed in the Land of Oz. His speech revolves around The Wizard of Oz. Pieces I had not yet understood begin to fit together on the third day of my journey at Chautauqua. Not only am I like Dorothy, but I need to be the scarecrow, the lion, and the tin man. My journey this week will be to find the way back home, to develop the courage to finish writing the story that aches in my belly, to expand the knowledge in my brain by taking numerous writing workshops, and to open my heart as wide as it can stretch, so that the words flow free upon the page. As Mr. Jacobi ends his speech, I smile, knowing I have finally met my wizard.

Because my first manuscript critique is tomorrow, my free time is spent walking the streets, smelling the flowers, checking on the purple martin babies, absorbing the beauty of Chautauqua, and thus following the strict advice given to me by Clay Winters on my first night here. Over dinner, Clay said, “I do not want to see you bent over your laptop or notes, sitting alone on the grass, working on your manuscript. Nor do I want to hear that you are locked in your room alone, revising and revising. That is not why you are here. Do not make this mistake, as others have. Soak in Chautauqua. Talk with other writers and mentors. Talk about writing. Talk about anything but writing. Take pictures. Sit by the lake. Listen to the birds. Unless you are given a short assignment from your mentor, don’t revise at all. Soak in the joy of this special place.”

Thank you, Clay, for those words of wisdom. Thank you!

My afternoon workshops include Writing Dialogue with Mitali Perkins, 200 Words or Less with Joy Cowley, and Characterization with Helen Hemphill. I learn something new in each session to apply to my writing.

As a group, we spend the evening having dinner at the Golf Club across the street, and afterwards listen to Mitali Perkins. Mitali is as lovely as can be, thoughtful, funny, and very inspiring. Add her to your list of Writers Whose Speeches You Must Hear.

After dinner, I walk the streets of Chautauqua with Joy, alone. We discuss our love of pigeons and children and writing. After we say good night, I head for my hotel, and along the way, I think about the young adult novel I am writing. Tackling this particular story will take great courage and an abundance of heart; a thinking brain, but not one that is judgmental. Lastly, I need to allow my spirit to dream, while I search for the rainbow. Only then will I find my way home.

The task ahead is as large as a dragon. One you can’t see, but only feel the enormity of its presence. “The dragon of Chautauqua,” as Kim Griswell says.

I am willing to be brave.

I am not afraid to fail.

I am ready to take on the dragon.

Always Stop to Hear an Angel Sing (Chautauqua: Day Two)

Posted on July 26, 2011 by Betsy

On Sunday morning after breakfast, Nanci and I walk two blocks from the Athenaeum Hotel to Art in the Park: a craft show in Miller Park overlooking Chautauqua Lake. Because the show does not open for another two hours, artists are still arranging their goods on tables. There is pottery of all kinds. Ceramic tiles. Hand knitted mittens. Photographic images of the beauty of Chautauqua stretched across canvas. One-of-a-kind knitted handbags. Wands made from pastel curling ribbons with matching tiaras and skirts: attire for the youngest of princesses.

I remember those days: driving long hours to reach Richmond, Virginia; loading a dolly with twenty-five bins; setting up my 10 x 20 foot booth. The hours are long. The work is hard and at times, lonely. Except for the people and the children I encountered, I do not miss the craft shows. But I am thankful, for it led me to my true path: writing for children.

While Nanci admires the handmade mittens recycled from sweaters, I check on the purple martins. The babies that live in house # 4 are braver today. Not one, but two babies expose their full heads. They peer up at the morning sky, their yellow beaks open in anticipation–hungry and helpless. I . . . am in love.

Nanci texts me that she has happily purchased a few gifts and is ready to explore the center of Chautauqua. Up the hill and over the red wooden bridge, we head for the town green. First on our list is the bookstore, then the library, and after that, any small shops that entice us to enter through their doors.

We not reach the library. Or the bookstore. Or any quaint shops, wherever they might be. We get as far as the amphitheatre—a very short, uphill walk from the red wooden bridge. Dozens and dozens of choir members warm up their voices. People swarm through the gates, accepting programs. Others park their bicycles, baby strollers, walkers, and electric wheelchairs. Seats fill. Dogs lay on the concrete next to their owners. Big dogs. Small dogs. Old dogs. Young dogs. One sits between the legs of an elderly man, seated on his scooter. Whispers among the crowd create a buzz like happy bees.

Attending the non-denominational morning service is not on our agenda, but the voices and the whispers and energy beckon. An unseen force pulls us, like the ocean’s current, and we find ourselves in the midst of a crowd, being handed a program, after which, we find a place to sit. “Let’s stay, just for a few minutes,” Nanci and I say, simultaneously.

The few minutes turn into an hour and a half. We are meant to be here, for the music, the inspiration, the enlightenment, and for me, the opportunity to open my mouth and sing with joy. Something I have not done for decades when I, myself, once sang in a church choir, where on occasion, I was a soloist.

The organist, Jared Jacobsen, places his fingers on the keys, his feet on the pedals, and the amphitheatre comes alive. There are no hymnals, no sheet music to read. All I have are words printed in the program. But I remember. My heart remembers, and the words are enough. I sing and sing and sing, as if I may not live through the night.

I have learned an important lesson on my second day at Chautauqua: be joyous. Live each moment as if it were your last. And if ever some unseen force pulls you in an unfamiliar direction, don’t stop to question why. Don’t fight the ocean’s current. Let the momentum sweep you up. Follow. Follow. Allow yourself to let go. Be brave.

We, like our characters, do not always know our needs. Listen to your inner voice. Trust your gut. If you do not, you might miss (as I might have missed that morning) the sound of an angel singing. Paul Robert’s voice is pure and rich, heartfelt and vulnerable.

At the very back of what appears to be at least one hundred choir members, a man in a blue robe clutches the bars of his walker; he pulls himself up, and then begins to sing Mr. Roberts delivers Send in the Clowns like someone being led to a guillotine, allowed to share his gift of a voice one last time.

Now, sitting on my porch, in the early hour of the morning, I hear that baritone voice. The longing in the words of Send in the Clowns intermingle with the songs of the Carolina wren family that lives on our property. A hummingbird flies over my head. A chipmunk peers between the white railings on our porch. Yes, I see you. I smile. I smile because my yard overflows with joyous creatures: finches, cardinals, hummingbirds, dragonflies, bees, moths, insects . . .

Thank you, Mr. Roberts–for opening your heart, for allowing me a glimpse of your soul, and for handing me the crystal ball. Like Dorothy, I stare at the images that whirl past me in the glass, clouded by tiny flakes of snow. I am scared of what lies ahead in my week at Chautauqua, but I understand what I need to do: be brave like the purple martin babies. I will blink my eyes at the sun and open my wings to the light. Inch by inch, I will step further away from the safety of my home to laugh. To love. To share stories. To make new friends. To learn how to improve my writing. To become a little frog, allowing my mentor to turn up the heat in the pot where she puts me to boil. I will allow unforeseen forces to lead me where I need to go.

And I will stop–whatever I am doing–to listen to an angel sing.

Be joyous.

Be a clown.

Falling Leaves Retreat 2010

Posted on November 19, 2010 by Betsy

Every November the New York chapter of SCBWI offers a weekend writing workshop: Falling Leaves. Last year the group concentrated on picture books, and this year, middle-grade and young adult novels were the focus.

This past weekend, I had the pleasure of attending, and arrived one day early to work on a novel revision. After getting lost in Lake George (a booming summer town which seemed to be in hibernation mode), I found one store with its lights on. A woman welcomed me inside and took pity on me, printing out directions to where I needed to go. After four hours in the car, there was another twenty-five mile drive up a winding road in the dark. The woman warned me to drive carefully; watch for sudden turns and drivers traveling in the opposite direction.

The two-lane road twisted and turned, and after forty minutes, I wondered if I had missed my street. It was pitch black. I was starving. And then, I saw a small sign to my right for Silver Bay.

At the end of this road stood a majestic white building with a wraparound porch lined with rockers. Mine was the only car. Once I discovered an open door, I entered what looked like a living room with a stone fireplace. Few lights were on, and besides the clunk, clunk of my clogs across the wooden floor, the only other sound was a grandfather clock, chiming.

“Hello? Anyone here?” I said, wondering if I had been transported into The Shining, where Jack Nicholson might jump out at me from around the corner. “Hello?”

After a minute, a woman appeared holding a flashlight instead of a hatchet. Clearly, my imagination was working over-time.

The image of The Shining aside, I woke up the next morning and discovered I had indeed been transported to a different place. Not the Overlook Hotel, but a magical place. A world filled with serenity and inspiration, best captured by the photographs I took on my many walks.

While the setting alone was worth the trip; the retreat, organized by Nancy Castaldo, made the weekend unforgettable. The thirty-five writers in attendance were treated to the company of five editors: Kendra Levin, editor at Viking Children’s Books; Julie Tibbott, Senior Editor, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt Children’s Book Group; Noa Wheeler, editor at Henry Holt Books; Wendy Loggia, Executive Editor at Delacorte Press; and Mary Kate Castellani, associate editor at Walker Books. These five women were accessible to us throughout. Charming and reachable, funny and honest, they all gave unique, inspiring presentations.

Noa talked about beginnings. Using examples from published works, she identified how to grab our readers on page one. The Wizard of Oz as an example, Kendra addressed characters and how motivation drives story. She led us through exercises to help us learn more about our characters. (I must say that this was my favorite part of the weekend. Through Kendra’s exercise, I discovered the truth behind what gets in the way of one of my protagonists.)

Julie Tibbott had all of us sweating for the week prior to the conference. We were instructed to bring a one-page synopsis. 250 words. Some writers had rewritten their synopsis over fifty times. Others painstakingly edited their synopsis until the length was not 251 or 249 words, but exactly 250. Working on this assignment was the topic of conversation throughout the weekend. Synopses are not easy. They can be more painful than writing the novel itself. And if you can’t succinctly describe your story in 250 words, than you may need to rethink the plot. Or other aspects of the work. Julie worked long after her presentation to help each of us. I will always have the image of Julie, head bent over at a table, reading and writing notes, while the rest of us toasted marshmallows at the bonfire.

Mary Kate Castellani also gave an invaluable presentation, discussing how she presents a project to acquisitions. ‘Handle’ is now a part of our vocabulary. We learned the importance of being aware of the market, and that knowing our selling points is a plus. It is essential that you stay current with today’s market, and to be aware of which novels might be similar to yours.

The weekend ended with Wendy Loggia’s presentation on revising step-by-step, where we had the opportunity to hear a selection of her editorial letters, which can range from one to eight pages in length. The editor/author relationship is the heart of the publishing business. Appreciate your editors, who are the true champions of your work, once you receive a contract.

In addition to the editor presentations, each writer had a thirty minute one-on-one with an editor. On Saturday morning, we broke off into groups of seven for peer critiques. These sessions were highly praised by all.

The food was exemplary, the setting breathtaking, and the company of other writers–all of us different–was inspiring to say the least.

Thank you, Nancy and your loyal assistants, the editors who gave so much to us, and my writing peers who opened their hearts and let me in.

I wanted to share some of the beauty of this location, which caught me off guard. I attended Falling Leaves Retreat with one hope: to learn something new. To find a nugget. One nugget I could use to improve my writing. And with this retreat, I experienced so much more, simply because I had no expectations, except to be diligent about my own writing. Being surprised and swept off your rocking chair is much sweeter.

For what drew me in at this beautiful location, in addition to the writing, here are a few of my photos. I hope you enjoy!