Phillip, a California Native, is a published writer-photographer. He lives in Morro Bay and is often seen hanging ten at "A' Beach. Friends say he plays a mean
Blues guitar.
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Treat Or a Retreat
by Phillip Cole
I've been a member of the Cambria Writers' Workshop (CWW) less than a year. Imagine how I felt to be included in their writers' retreat at Asilomar up the road in Pacific Grove. A lucky guy.
CWW has been a venue for writers to work on their craft for over twenty-five years. Christopher Moore and Catherine Ryan Hyde created best-selling novels in their midst. Their current roster has twenty-something published writers with more on their way.
Asilomar is a woodsy, pine studded, deer, bird, and squirrel laden sprawl of acreage. No phones. No TV. No internet. Rustic with an ocean view and a whole lot of quiet. A perfect place to concentrate on craft.
CWW took over a lodge, with more than twenty conferees spanning all genres: novelists, historians, poets, short story writers, travel journalists, and everything else slipping through the cracks. Some have been writing for more than half-century; others, not so long – both published and hopefuls.
I expected a writers' retreat to be a little stuffy. You know, a bunch of middle-aged folks chewing on gerunds. Not so. Our first night, during the orientation, wine flowed, literally, as zucchini strips sloshed through creamy dressing. Chairs were dragged into two circles. The men grouped together as the women took over the other side of the room. Yes, reminiscent of high school.
The men talked cars while the women seemed more cerebral and writerly. Their conversations included movies and unruly facial hair, expanding to the philosophical, "Why can't men put the lid back down?" That brought the men into the discussion and someone pointed out that the women were lucky to have had the men put the lid up before using it.
Ron Koertge, (pronounced ker-chee), widely published in fiction and poetry, facilitated our workshops. By dinner time, he was one of the gang.
Our overnight assignment? Write a haiku of the non-nature kind. In other words, no frogs, fuzzy ducks or weeping willows.
A few writers settled into their rooms with pens poised. A larger, more boisterous group took over the sitting room in the lodge. With a crackling fire, wine, and chocolate chip cookies, we created a group haiku. Each person threw out a word, like Pontiac, foil, whore, and, of course, chocolate. Luckily, someone had a pen. A rough draft was scribbled on a cocktail napkin. After much discussion and a bit more wine, a final draft appeared on the back of a paper plate.
Haikus were shared next day in workshop. Individual pieces rose above the group effort, mainly because they made sense. Ron shared seventeen syllables written by a tough 12-year-old student from Detroit:
That sweater I bought
her, crumpled in the back of
Bobby's red Corvette.
With that, the room fell into a cliché of silence.
Each writer brought a piece of work, ranging from short stories, chapters from novels to poetry. Writing styles were as eclectic as our group. Stories of old loved ones, misery of war, history, and fantasy.
Ron stressed the importance of being "flexible" with our work. "Not being too attached." With that bit of advice, he took the stance of "The Slasher." He sliced out scene after scene, replacing rambling narration with a couple lines of punchy dialogue. Witnessing his editing skills was worth the conference fee. Ron told us, "This is the first time I've led a workshop where a vibrator had a name."
No . . . No! Not the pen again!
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It was easy to recognize work that held our attention. Writers stopped their note taking, turning chairs toward the reader.
Our lively discussions continued into mealtime. Topics included novelists as consummate liars and the pros and cons of punctuation in poetry.
I think we all agreed that it doesn't matter how well you write, a story can still be improved.
In other words, this writers' retreat was more than I expected. Seldom does a writer of Ron Koertge's caliber spend so much time with each person's work. I brought poetry, originally titled "Salute." After much discussion about how important a title can be, Ron and I came up with, "God Is Dead, Irony Is Alive."
Cheers to an inspiring group of writers and new friends. Check out these images, just a sampling of some of their work. Now let's go slash some words.
  
Sea Otter image on banner by Cleve Nash |
