Writers Workshop Recap

Reflections on My Time at AWW 2024

Dear readers,

This is my overdue update to you about my experience at the Appalachian Writers Workshop at the end of July. My time in the workshop at the Hindman Settlement School was a disorienting mix of both what I expected and what I never could have anticipated! It’s all taken a while to process.

That’s me on the cabin steps in the pink shirt, arm draped on the railing. Being in the Kentucky mountains was refreshing, even with the humidity (and my resulting wild hair). That climb up the hill from the meeting building to my lodging… oof! I’m a mountain girl, but that grade was at least 60 percent, y’all!

I’ve been blathering to my friends about the things I loved about AWW 2024. So much! While the workshops and other events were terrific and the food was delish, what I’m treasuring most from the experience is the incredible humans, both those who made it happen and those who attended.

Every writer I met—even ones currently living in Texas or Oregon or Florida like me—originally hails from Appalachia. Though our individual versions of growing up in the mountains vary widely and wildly—yes, we are not the stereotypes so often portrayed in media—we are similar in carrying deep pride in those roots and not afraid of letting it show.

Stereotypes busted is the theme of another thing I loved about being at Hindman. Every kind of human was present and welcome there. It was a judgment-free zone in so many ways, which leads me to the next thing I hold onto from my experience.

No one there suffers judgment based on writing ability or where they are in their writing journey. At AWW, the instructors are students are instructors are students. Let me explain.

It’s not surprising that many of the 2024 instructors were previously AWW students. We learn and grow, so that trajectory isn’t unexpected. But at AWW, it works the other way too…

• One fella in my novel class, when I asked how many times he’d attended, said it was his second. But last year, he taught. From instructor to student.

• Annette Saunooke Clapsaddle, who I mentioned in my last post as a fellow student in my novel class, will lead a retreat at Hindman this fall; she also recently returned from instructing at the Table Rock Writers Workshop at Wildacres in North Carolina. From student to instructor.

These are only two of the many writers I met who gracefully do this cyclical learner-leader-learner dance. I was gobsmacked by how many attendees have returned year after year (one man 46 times!), moving fluidly from the role of student to the role of instructor and back again, as their projects and lives demand.

This reinforced one of the things I love most about writing and for which the AWW environment is a beautiful metaphor: the perpetual learning adventure, entwined with heavy doses of practice and doing, while learning some more. These folks embrace that.

My cohort of 15 novelists + instructor gave me a LOT to consider about my book, and that’s largely where my head has been since returning. Some of the questions and concerns they had I’d already pondered long and hard but had set aside to focus on finishing the first full draft with the intent of circling back to address those issues during revision.

Even with my determination to finish, though, something has felt off-kilter in the story for a long while. And it’s stifled me. The wonderful writers at the workshop helped me identify what’s contributed to that.

Every historical fiction writer must beware of overlaying today’s views and beliefs onto characters who lived in a past time. A popular novel I recently read has the characters discussing issues in terms that wouldn’t have been part of the lexicon in the novel’s time setting. Wanting to avoid that major misstep myself, my revision plan has always included refining dialogue and making careful word choices. But this would solve only some of my problems.

I’ve often been asked, “Whose story is this?” My answer is always the same: Libby’s; it’s her story. She spoke to me first. In a single line of fewer than ten words, she sparked the entire, tangled novel. However, I’ve been telling the story from two points-of-view: nine-year-old Libby’s and her mother Gwen’s.

That dual-POV choice came from a place of defiance (don’t tell me I ‘can’t’ do something) and an insecurity of skills (that’s another story for another time). Regardless, I haven’t shown Libby enough respect for her abilities to observe and process and discern what’s going on in her life. After all, she’s developed some cool sleuthing skills by reading Nancy Drew! [Side note: Despite this cultural reference, y’all, my story is not middle grade or young adult.]

So, do I give Libby full voice and command of the story? I’m still uncertain. I’ve gone back and forth with the POV issue so many times, I’ve had to ask myself if it’s a subconscious strategy to avoid finishing!

Honestly, working from where the manuscript currently stands, with some focus, I could cut, revise, write unfinished scenes and be done with the full draft in six-ish months. That sounds appealing when I consider what might be involved with a restructure. Still, I’m methodically working through four or five scenes to see how the organization, the voice, the tone, and the overall story would be affected if I gave it all to Libby.

The story I want to tell is the guiding light, though. What POV will tell the best story and tell the story best? That’s where I am with Dancing at The Orange Peel and why you haven’t seen chapter 11 yet. But, I promise, it’s coming soon.

More Goings On

Before the Appalachian Writers Workshop, I was fretful with comparisonitis and talked about that in my last post. The fear of judgment was eating at me, too. Perfectionism, imposter syndrome. It was all there. I was doubting my choice to even apply!

I’ve heard from some of you that you experience similar issues. Really, are any of us immune? So my podcast co-hosts and I talked more about that on Episode 46 of Around the Writer’s Table. It’s good to know we’re not the only ones.

After ‘the tribulations’ hit me, I still had the workshop ahead of me. If you’re wondering how I actually faired at AWW with the terrible triad sitting on my shoulder, I talk more about that on Episode 47. Thanks to my podcast co-host

☕ KimBoo York

for interviewing me.

That’s all for now but watch for an upcoming share about a cool book-related synchronicity I experienced with my dad during my visit with him before the workshop, as well as some exciting new plans for Gina’s Quill and the Kent Creek Chronicles.

Have a wonderful rest of your week.

Your grateful scribe,

Gina

PS Here’s more about this summer’s Appalachian Writers Workshop from Hindman’s director of literary arts, Melissa Helton.

Thanks for reading! Please also check out my serialized novel Dancing at The Orange Peel, one story in an evolving collection of THE KENT CREEK CHRONICLES. Here’s the story Directory. Watch for new episodes monthly, as well as more items from THE MAILBAG, where you’ll get extra backstory, research tidbits, travel and writing updates. Don’t miss a thing by subscribing.