Postgraduate Writers Conference (2010 Edition)

After such a splendid time last year I decided to return to the Vermont College of Fine Arts for the 15th Postgraduate Writers Conference (PWC) in Montpelier, Vermont. The Postgraduate Writers Conference targets graduate students as participants, thought it is not a requirement for entry. Something that I do enjoy about this conference is that entrance is not based on writing samples, but on interest. Montpelier is a great location, quiet, serene, and away from major urban areas, so you can utilize the atmosphere for being creative and focusing. Just as I did last year I ended up holing myself in my dorm room with my laptop and flash drive and just worked away.

Of course, I wasn't the only one. The population for this conference is an older crowd, retirees, parents, full-time workers, and so on who utilize this time away from home and responsibilities to really focus on writing and revision. Revision of course being one of the most daunting parts of writing.

After speaking with several people on their graduate school and writing conference experience it stood out even more that PWC is one of the tops from the participant perspective.

Many conferences pack your day with events so that you may have to pick and choose what you want to attend and what you want to forgo. And when you're a first time participant you may not want to forgo anything unless you feel yourself nodding off or the strong, strong need to write compels you to type away on the keyboard or scribble on a notepad. This year the conference director, Ellen Lesser, did some finagling of the schedule to make sure no events overlapped. So you could go to a lecture at 1:30 on writing in the real word and then one of film editing as it may relate to editing a poetry compilation at 2:45. You want to do some freewriting before workshop on Wednesday? Sure! We'll have a "yard sale"! Want to do a quick hike before going to workshop to work off all those pancakes with Vermont's own maple syrup? Done! Oh, did you want to visit the Montpelier Farmer's Market this morning, then workshop, then go swimming this afternoon? Bam, at your leisure!

I found it very pleasant to have the option of not having to pick and choose, though like I said, I was writing most of the time and missed many events but those on the final days.

While there are always hiccups when organizing something where people come in from places all over the country and need to organize room & board, daily activities, food, and so on and so forth. But the fact that it's easy to get in touch with either Ellen or conference coordinator, Anne, who are the most pleasant women you'll ever meet and no matter how frazzled they are never shut your needs down is something I highly appreciate.

Sometimes good experiences can make you ignorant to the bad ones out there as well. One of my workshop mates and another woman working on her novel had both just come from horrific experiences at the Wesleyan Writer's Conference weeks prior. They both had the same instructor who barely acknowledged or viewed their work, felt that faculty and students were segregated at all turns (in particularly during meals), and that the conference coordinator who seemed so kind and informative via e-mail was cold and dismissive in person. Since the Wesleyan conference has no workshops, mainly lectures and a one-on-one conference with a published instructor/writer on your submission it was devastating to learn that not only did they feel unwanted, but their work itself was not even read--more than likely skimmed--is a great blow to someone who may not have shown their work to anyone before then and is trying to grasp at any positive reinforcement you can get because you have no one else to help you can cause one increasing self-doubt if not all together dash their dreams.

I was glad that the two women I spoke with came to PWC after such a bad experience and got to experience how a conference should be. That your workshop leader is more than happy to sit with you during breakfast, lunch, or dinner and discuss their obsession with Facebook. That they are willing and wanting to extend class discussions during lunch while interrupting discussion to get a piece of peach cobbler real quick. That they hold extraneous lectures or writing sessions to get the mind, blood, and hands flowing before a 2+ hour workshop. That these published writers we may look on in awe (or perhaps skepticism) are truly invested in your work, sitting proudly and listening to your piece at the participant readings and giving you a standing ovation when you're done.

So, that's my second plug for the Postgraduate Writers Conference. While I don't know if I'll attend again next year due to finances or pursuing other opportunities to write and critique during the summer, I do know it will be at the top of my list to return to for it's affordability and comfort. And I always get so much writing done when I'm there, major bonus!

Baked Good Spotlight: The Maple Bun

I usually hold my baked good reviews for end of year, but since this one is too good to hold and is in another state I figure I should spread the word to my loyal followers (all five of ya!) now. For the past 9 days or so I was in the lovely Green Mountain State (Vermont to the rest of the world). I was there for the Postgraduate Writers' Conference (PWC) and then for some extra time just to hang near Burlington.

Well, on Saturday PWC organizers scheduled in some time in the morning to go to the farmer's market in downtown Montpelier. So, I went, treading down a big hill (and then back up the hill later), to see what their market was like.

We got there as the market attendees were setting up and it was Vermont natural products galore. If you like food, this farmer's market was for you. I ended up replenishing my supply of maple sugar and syrup and passed by a booth for a nice bakery called Red Hen. I saw they had a lovely good called the maple bun and even though it had raisins in it I purchased it and then hoofed it up the hill in time for my workshop.

Well, an hour or so into workshop I dug into my paper bag, inhaled a lovely maple aroma, then took a bite out of this bun. My workshop leader (and conference director) asked as I chewed if I got the Red Hen maple bun. I nodded, enamored. "Isn't it the best thing in the world?" she asked. I agreed with another nod as I simultaneously took another bite.

Well folks, from there on out it was love. My husband came to pick me up and whisk me off to S. Burlington the next day and I told him about this lovely bun. On our way out of Montpelier we happened to pass Red Hen Baking Co. How crazy is that? And I said I wanted to go there the next day since we had time to kill and he likes to get his driving in.

Fast forward to the next day when I introduced my husband to the maple bun. We were lucky to get the last one of the day after 12pm. (Yes, those babies sell out fast!) And, I guess needless to say, he fell in love with it as much as I did. The maple goodness is slathered all over the bun and topped off with chopped walnuts. The raisins inside are sparse. The most I had in a bun was four and those were easy enough to pick off.

I called early the next morning to order a half dozen and we made our way back to Middlesex, VT to get ourselves some buns to take home. The idea was to share with others who'd appreciate it, but since supply is low (they make a set amount per day so you really should order ahead of time or just get there early) and I can just be plain greedy when it comes to baked goodies we hoarded the bunch for ourselves. On the drive back home I kept looking back at the box of buns, our precious cargo. We got home safe and sound, buns intact and I had one for breakfast this morning. They're even better warm!

So, I urge you to take a detour on your travels to or through Vermont to visit the town of Middlesex and more importantly get in on some maple bun action.

Red Hen Baking Co. makes their goods on-site everyday! So get a nice sandwich with avocado mayonnaise, or a gallon of maple syrup, or a pain du chocolat or any of their freshly baked artisan breads.

If looking at this bun doesn't tempt you, I don't know what will.

Inspiration: Who was yours?

Last month, my first year as a mentor with Girls Write Now ended. At the last reading for Girls Write Now I got to meet author Tayari Jones in person. And she's as wonderful in person as she is talented on the page. In reading her blog I noticed one of her latest entries about MCing the Girls Write Now reading and how she wished she had a program like GWN available to her when she was growing up. This is one of the things that I, and many others, have noted when referencing GWNs mission statement. While the organization was in its premature stages when I was in high school, I know I and many other teenage writers could only have benefited from having a mentor help to push, praise, critique, and educate when it came to writing.

Fortunately, I did have someone who was a constant source of inspiration and was sort of a mentor to me in high school as I wrote and considered writing to be part of my immediate future.

I went to John Bowne High School in Flushing, NY, and was part of their Center for Writing program.  Being a freshman in a school where you know no one is intimidating enough. You want to make an impression, friends, and settle yourself into a niche. Weeks into my start at Bowne one teacher proved to be more interesting (and interested in what us students had to say) than the rest. This woman would become my mentor and motivator. Her name is Janet Feldberg. Ms. Feldberg was one of the more senior teachers there and the advisor for the freshman/sophomore writing magazine Pendemonium. She had a Mother Earth quality about her that made everyone like her. She treated her students like equals, not like kids. She was our educator, but she respected us and so everyone respected her.

Ms. Feldberg encouraged us when it came to reading the classics. As she watched our eyes glaze over in trying to recall the metaphors of Moby Dick or the characterizations in The Great Gatsby, she never showed frustration just encouragement. And in doing so with analysis of text she also encouraged us when it came to the creation of prose.

As a teen I was really into R.L. Stine's Fear Street series and also tagged onto my mother's fascination with Stephen King. Yes, I read The Babysitter's Club and Sweet Valley High, but I saw myself writing things that went way deeper than that and by deeper I mean my stories were meant to make readers laugh and scare the crap out of them.

I submitted my first story, "Terror at Bowne," to Ms. Feldberg with few expectations. Yet, within a day she pulled me aside and thought it was a vibrant story. It starred my best friend, a couple other friends, and myself as we realized our freshman year at Bowne was not what it seemed. There were monsters afoot! Perhaps one could consider it an allegory for the way teenagers feel when they start at a new school alone that they picture the worst happening and find camraderie with others when bad things come to play. But at the time, it was just fun to write. The villain of the story was a disliked history teacher who refused to allow her name on the page. So Ms. Feldberg offered to become the "terror" and published it in Pendemonium that year. I remember when she read it aloud in one of our computer writing classes and the response it got from my classmates. They were engaged even rooting for the ending. It was then I realized I probably had a calling when it came to this whole writing thing.

Over the years Ms. Feldberg continued to praise and help me with my work. When I attempted poetry, inspired by Dickinson and auspiciously mimicking her voice Ms. Feldberg understood what I was really talking about after weeding through the imagery and metaphors and earthly comparisons. She praised another poem I wrote based off a prompt and encouraged me to be an advocate for the CFW program at Open Houses. She was happy to read a sequel to "Terror at Bowne" and again offered her name as the villain who rose from the grave. She was my biggest supporter in those years and as I moved on to run the student government and worry about budgets and advertising and keeping a student body inline, my writing began to lose its importance in my life.

As I worried about SATs and scholarships and placement exams I couldn't focus on writing a sequel to the sequel of "Terror at Bowne." But I had come to Bowne to be a writer hadn't I? What was keeping me from that? Not having Ms. Feldberg as my instructor in the last two years of school (she mainly taught the freshmen and sophomores) definitely had an impact on my creative side. I was focused on the tasks at hand: dances, decorations, meetings, representation, speeches, scholarships, senior prom, a part-time job. And as the last two years of school hit me with the responsibilities of post-adolescence I realized I missed my mentor. I missed the encouragement she gave me my first few years there to become confident enough to run for student council president, to write essays on Stephen King and consider his work as interesting as the tomes being thrust down our throats, to read deeper into books and consider what made them part of a literary canon and why there were so important for us to read in the first place. Nope, as juniors and seniors we lost our guiding hand in the resourceful, kind, and patient Ms. Feldberg and were greeted with people a bit gruffer, sterner who expected us to be prepared. We weren't kiddies anymore, the kiddies had Ms. Feldberg and in a way I envied them for that.

As I prepared to leave Bowne and pursue a degree in writing I remembered everything she did for me. I remembered all the inspiration she gave me and mostly I appreciated it. I remember her writing enthusiastic letters of recommendation for my college applications and running to her to let her know I'd succeeded in getting into my first two choices.

A couple of years after I graduated Ms. Feldberg retired and became a grandma full-time. I saw her a couple times and wrote to her, but this was before e-mail became an institution in most homes and we lost touch.

As the year for mentoring ended I couldn't help but be reminded of Ms. Feldberg and realize how much she not only influenced and inspired the writer I've become, but also the person. I notice the way I've gone about teaching and being a mentor for young girls is almost synonymous with how she approached us freshmen when we sat still and anxious in her class. I realize we both approach students/teens with encouragement and respect. That when we meet young people they need to know that they're capable of anything and it all comes down to desire.

Yes, I'm getting nostalgic in my old age, but did want to take a moment to thank Ms. Feldberg (albeit virtually) for all her guidance and inspiration then because I wouldn't be the person I am now. I can't help but wonder what life has in store for the mentees that leave Girls Write Now. But I hope, whether they realize it now or in retrospect, they appreciate the guidance their mentors have to offer because not everyone gets a Ms. Feldberg in their lives.