My Summer Highlight (a writer’s conference)

I felt a hint of fall in the air this morning. School has started, and kids will report on what they did during their summer vacation. Time is different as we grow older. Summers are gone in a blip, and holiday decorations beg our attention in the stores. (I totally ignore them)

My summer highlight was attending the Port Townsend Writers Conference for a week in July.

​​​​When I made it to Fort Worden, the grounds where the conference was held, I took a stroll on the beach before checking in. The waves clapped onto the sand, applauding me for getting there after the long drive.

In line for dinner, a short, slight, spunky woman, whom I thought was around my age (66), and I laughed that the wind was messing with our short haircuts. “I wrote an essay about my hair,” she exclaimed, then shared the details and the revelation of learning to stand up for herself. Carla and I carried on, sharing our souls in no time.

After orientation, three writers read. I wasn’t familiar with them but now I want more of each of them. Alice Anderson, raised in Mississippi, read from her memoir, Some Bright Morning, I’ll Fly Away, Bryce Andrews, Montana author. I knew of him but hadn’t read him. Then Bryan Fry, editor of Blood Orange Review, born in Montana.

On the sidewalk that leads back to the dorms, the woman next to me said she might go to the beach before bed. I looked over at her, “Are you Toni Jensen?”
“Yes”
“I have been listening to your memoir on my drive, and so excited to be in your writing workshop all week. I am on Chapter 12, Chicken. Y’all are at the ice cream social at Clara Tyson’s (of Tyson Chicken). “She is something else,” said Toni.
Toni’s memoir, Carry, A Memoir of Survival on Stolen Land, is powerful, well-written, hard, and necessary.

In the shared restroom back at the dorm, a woman says hello with a Southern accent. She, too, is from Mississippi, the small town of Laurel. In the hallway, Carol joined our conversation. Carol is writing fiction only because she doesn’t have all the information she needs to write about her father, who was the last to be released from Manzanar, the site of one of ten American concentration camps, where more than 120,000 Japanese Americans were incarcerated during World War II. The three of us could have talked for hours, but it was late.

The interactions and connections made over the first four hours were a good omen for the week ahead.

Amy, one of the dozen students in Toni’s morning workshop, entered the room each morning with an enthusiastic “Good morning, everyone”. Toni created a space for us to share our writing, receive feedback while teaching the craft of writing. By the end of the week, we knew each other’s stories and wanted more. Amy organized a monthly Zoom for us to continue with writing feedback. Occasionally, Toni will join us. 

I could go on about the magical experiences from the week. What I will say is that folks who had been attending for years commented that this summer was one of the best. Hopefully, I’ll be able to attend next summer. Centrum, the organization that holds the conference and many other conferences for artists and musicians, is excellent. I recommend checking it out: Centrum: creativity in community.

Carla, the woman whom I had said was around my age, turns out she’s 83! She and I have exchanged a few emails since the conference. Our Zoom group has met once. In our group, a biologist who worked for the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service in 2003 for many years is writing a powerful memoir about the government’s denial of climate change for decades. I’m willing to bet she will be published, and it will be an enlightening book.

After the conference, I made my way to Eugene, OR, to visit friends and attend an annual weekend with the River Rompers. Each summer, a group of friends stay at a vacation rental on a river to swim, eat, and connect, holding the space for each other’s pain and joy. It’s always revitalizing. However, after a week in Eugene and just before our weekend away, I had a painful flare-up of diverticulitis and decided to come home early. I hated missing our treasured time, but it was the right choice. Rest and a liquid diet are the remedies.

I look forward to mornings that ask us to put on a sweater and watch the leaves change colors. It’s my favorite season. What’s yours?

Thanks for reading, Frances