From northwest to northeast Arkansas: a writing retreat

Mike, Pat M., Pat Carr, Pat L., Barbara relaxing after class

Two weeks after leaving Greye-the-cat and Billy-the-the grandson in charge at Couchwood while I went to northeast Arkansas for a few days, I left them again. This time I headed the diagonally-opposite direction—to Piggott in Clay County, for a week’s writing retreat at the Hemingway-Pfeiffer Museum Educational Center, one of the historical projects of Arkansas State University.

Lodging for many of us was at The Inn at Piggott (formerly the Downtown Inn) bed-and-breakfast. Ownership has changed twice since I began staying there, and the latest owners, Tracy and Joe Cole, natives, both go-getters, have begun and are continuing to update “the old girl who sat empty for so long,” as Joe described the two-story red brick former bank building. It sits on the corner of West Main and Second Street. When I arrived, a folded bath towel rested on one of the window sills in the Safari Room (#3)—my favorite room--because of a leak from an unsealed area around it. During our week, painters worked on the outside of the building.

Trains rumble through Piggott day and night, and for the first time in all the years I’ve stayed there, I felt the bed shake as one lumbered past only a block from the Inn. I was sitting up with writing materials on my lap. Others had said they’d felt the building shake, but I hadn’t—until this visit.

Writers gathered from as far away as Boston, MA, Bowling Green, KY, Springfield MO, Sarasota FL, as well as places in Arkansas: Elkins, Floral, Jonesboro, Piggott, Benton, Fayetteville, and West Fork.

               

Mentor, Pat Carr, Elkins, AR

Pat Carr returned for the fourth time as mentor, but this was my first time under her tutelage.  Monday’s subject was Hemingway’s Paris circle and the dramatic point of view. Our assignment was to write about a couple in conflict who know each other well using the third-person-limited point of view, which means “Don’t go into either one’s head.” Dialogue, action, images; short sentences, no clichés, few adjectives, and adverbs. The piece I wrote needed writing for quite a while. I titled it, “Torrent Unleashed.”

Tuesday’s focus was Hemingway, Fitzgerald, and the Observer in “The Great Gatsby.” Our assignment was a “Let me tell you what happened . . .” The writer could also be a character but write solely as an observer. My story, one that also needed to be written—for my possible clarification—I titled “Why Should It Matter?” I had a hard time ending it as Ms. Carr wished, but other writers checked in with suggestions, and I finally wrote a suitable ending.

By week’s end, I turned in two stories and two poems for the Anthology, a souvenir with some of the week’s work by the writers.

The lessons/ assignments were helpful; the notes I wrote more so, but I had an embarrassing moment that took me down a peg. I’d written an “anaphora”-patterned poem for the state poetry society’s monthly contest. And one of our exercises was to write down your first memory. Mine was moving from the “little house” by horse and wagon up to the “big house” when I was six. Eureka! I was able to tweak the original poem for use as this assignment. My mistake was mispronouncing the form. I said “anna-FOR-uh,” having not ever heard it pronounced. My neighbor at the table quickly corrected me, “an-EFF-er-uh.”

Oh, well, at 81, it’s still not too late to learn something. And learn something I did.

Pat L.'s coffee table decoration, fall 2017

               

Serenaded through the night by trains, writing retreat more than worth it

Standing:

Rhoda, Ethan, Karen, Adam, Myra.

Seated: Dennis.

Bottom Left: Myra & C. D.
Center: Karen & Pat with the piece of blue glass Karen gave Pat for her blue room.
Right: Betsy

  Debbie & Fay

             Debbie & Patricia

Another writing retreat at the Hemingway-Pfeiffer Museum Educational Center in Piggott, Clay County, Arkansas, is history. Attended by fourteen writers from Sarasota, Florida, West Plains, Missouri, Jonesboro, Blytheville, Hot Springs Village, Beebe, Benton, and areas around the host town.

One of my children asked me the difference between Piggott and Eureka Springs—not in geographical terms, but in the writing venues each offers and to which I attend once or twice each year.

Let me digress and address this question: At Eureka Springs’ Writers Colony at Dairy Hollow, writers are assigned an in-house suite for the length of their stay. From the point of moving in, you (the writer) are like a roomer: free to do your own things on your own schedule. The only common time with other residents is weekday evenings at six for on-site prepared meals by the Colony staff.

At the HP retreat, you secure your own lodging. Several of us stay at The Inn in Piggott, formerly the Downtown Inn. It provides breakfast, plus a common fridge and microwave. At least three drove from Jonesboro each day.

The daily schedule begins at nine with two hours of mentor-provided ideas and discussions. C. D. Albin, professor at Missouri State University in West Plains, served as this year’s mentor.

At eleven o’clock each day, the mentor begins 15-minute segments of one-on-one in a quiet back office, while some fan out to other writing spots around the grounds and buildings, or stay in the conference room. I stayed in the big room each day and was pleased that there was not one writer who talked loudly, or coughed constantly.

Lunch was served by the staff at noon, and we ate around the “big” table. Visiting happened here. At one p.m., we had another hour of private writing time and/ or mentor moments. The final hour each day was a sharing of our work; a read-around. Those who asked for comments after their readings got them.

Dinner (or supper) was on our own. Several went to the various eateries in the town, but I “ate in,” having brought food from home. Most days, I could manage a nap before supper. Then I would catch up on the computer news, emails, Facebook, etc. After that, I hit the books, uh, assignments.

The first day dealt with “conflict, crisis, resolution.” Luckily, I was at just such a place in the memoir I’m working on where I remembered an event that showed this assignment perfectly.

Next, “dialogue” in all its various possibilities. Not only words, but body language, tone, silences, even arrangement of words. I began such a scene to appear near the end of said memoir.

“Setting” was the next subject. It can be more than physical. It can be our emotional terrain. An idea came: Write about the house (Couchwood) from the viewpoint of the three generations who have lived here thus far.

Thursday’s subject was “Creative Non-Fiction” with examples of titles and authors.

 Friday, the mentor talked about “Poetry” and poets. “Writing poetry hones your fiction writing,” Dr. Albin said. I can attest to that.

Another week of inspiration, nudges to keep on the task you’ve begun, and good memories. I’m already signed up for the fall retreat and made reservations at the Inn.

Now, to put all these learnings and inspirations into play from day to day.

c 2017 by PL dba lovepat press

Nearly back in the groove

Google Image

 

Two days home from a slice of heaven-on-earth, and I can’t yet return to the status quo. Really, there’s no “status quo” after one experiences such growth in so many ways. In time, the summer writers’ retreat at the Hemingway-Pfeiffer Museum Educational Center will become part of the new status quo, right?

 

 One of a dozen writers from as far as Sarasota, FL and as near as McDougal, AR, I melded into the group bound by more than geography: we wanted to learn to “write like Hemingway.”

The mentor, a University of Central Arkansas professor with a heavy British accent—a writer himself—deftly led us through five short stories of the “master,” with writing assignments—if we needed or wanted them—for that night’s and/or the next day’s writing times.

 

And if that weren’t enough, one of the writers, a professor emeritus from my alma mater, Hendrix College—across town from UCA—had an even heavier Irish brogue. He is scheduled to further his studies with Garry, the mentor, this fall.

 

Other writers hailed from “out in the country” in Piggott, Rector, Little Rock, Fayetteville, Benton (one other besides me), Jonesboro and Pollard—all in-state.

 

One wrote Christian romance—and had books for sale, one had written a personal memoir and  was working on a family history, one had a manuscript out, one wrote devotionals and was into a novel, one hadn’t written before this week except for herself, one wrote for (and won) contests, one was writing a series of stories based on his work in a homeless shelter, one wrote stories from his experience, one wrote family history and poems, and one wrote plays, skits, dramas for church and Vacation Bible School. I put my sequel out of mind and wrote short stories based on the assignments.

 

Breakfasts at The Inn at Piggott prepared by Beverly Scott, lunches at H-P prepared by Karen Stout and Carolyn Caldwell kept us well-fueled for the days’ work. Supper, ‘scuse me, dinner was on our own. One night, it was Los Compadres, the next, Donna’s (Beverly’s sister), one night at the Piggott Diner and one night, we stayed in and ate our own snacks, etc.

 

On the Sunday before my first trip to HPMEC, during the 'joys and concerns' in church, I asked for traveling mercies, that I was going to Piggott for a week. The minister slowly turned with questioning eyes, like “Why would anyone go to Piggott?” But he didn’t say that. What he said was, “You’ll be the most exciting thing in Piggott.”

 

 Not true! Not true! It wasn’t true then, and it’s definitely not true today. Tracy and Joe Cole bought the former Downtown Inn and began refurbishing it immediately. Already, two of the rooms have Hemingway-related themes: Pauline’s Room (Pauline Pfeiffer was Ernest’s second wife) is one and the Hunter’s Room contains furniture made by Joe Cole. Imagine a  chandelier of animal horns in a circular design.

 The room I usually stay in will be transformed into The Safari Room by the next trip, Joe said. We’ll see how well I sleep with a rack of kudu horns over my head.

 Google Image!

One day's breakfast at the inn in Piggott. 2012, including yours truly.

c 2015 Pat Laster, author of A Journey of Choice, and an up-coming sequel, Her Face in the Glass.