A to Z Challenge - V is for Victorious in Violet

 I'm just back from a writing retreat. I'm calling it successful -- better than that, VICTORIOUS!





My goals were accomplished.  They were not as lofty as in previous years. I set no word or page counts, no outline, chapter or book completions.
Still, there was a mountain to climb and I climbed it!


I am indebted to Gwynn Scheltema and Ruth Walker for providing such a supportive environment. I am also grateful to my fellow writers at the retreat. There is nothing quite so inspiring, encouraging, and refreshing than to write in community with other writers.


Head and heart, I reconnected with the memoir I've been working on for a number of years.

Saturday morning, I opened the document box that had been untouched for nearly a year. Over the next two days, I sorted through all the bits and pieces it contained. I tossed some junk - multiple copies of the same chapters, irrelevant notes, and three pens that no longer worked. I re-ordered what remained, taking time to explore the stories one by one. And I enjoyed the process!

Monday, my plan was to keyboard the chapters written at last year's retreat, but I found that I had no desire to park myself in front of a laptop. But my "write hand" was twitching for exercise, longing to move a pen across paper. I abandoned the keyboard and picked up my fountain pen. I wrote - not a lot but several linking passages and paragraphs that tied up a few loose ends and secured the bond between writer and story.

In the midst of all this triumphant growth, Monday also brought a violet pall of sorrow as news of the tragedy in the beloved city of my birth unfolded. The apprehension and arrest of the van driver who had mowed down 24 people, killing 10, was accomplished without a single gunshot. Politicians kept their responses low key and the media did not jump to radical conclusions. We all waited for the facts and while we waited, as we were able, we offered care and compassionate support. And the outpouring of compassion continues. This is my Toronto.

Once assured of my family's safety on Monday, I took myself on a walk away from the news. I visited the lads up the hill.

The confident thumps of big hooves, snorts of camaraderie, and the quiet wisdom in those big eyes, did much to comfort my soul.

As I headed back along the lake to the main building, these crocuses seemed to sum up the weekend - victorious in violet.

Tuesday morning dawned with promise and healing colours.

©2018 April Hoeller

A to Z Writing Challenge - R is for Retreat

Elmhirst Resort, Rice Lake Ontario

It's a busy day - a good, busy day for me. I'm getting my stuff together to head off to a writing retreat. Five days of open space, as structured or unstructured as I need; in the company of other writers or on my own, maybe even in my jammies; no meals to plan, prepare or clean up after; and all under the "care-full" wings of two very capable writers, Ruth Walker and Gwynn Scheltema.

I have a somewhat muted optimism about this escape to write. Honestly, I'm a bit anxious about it. It's been nearly a year since I even looked at my work in progress memoir. To be fair, and even kind to myself, the months have not been wrapped in utter idleness. First, there was the home renovation that turned this...

...into this:

Like all reno's this one was chock full of disruptions, noise, dust, and delays. Winter intruded before we could get the interior finished. Still, the space holds promises of light and inspiration. And the floor is done!

Then in the late autumn, my love's health took a hit for the first time in our life together, (nearly fifty years). Age plus genetics set up roadblocks along the coronary artery highway. An angiogram revealed a 100% occlusion of the left anterior descending artery (aka the widow-maker) and a 70% blockage of the right coronary artery. A week before Christmas, two stents were successfully placed to open up the arteries. We dodged a bullet, that is for sure. The man bounced back with gusto. Me? I was a little slower to return to regularly scheduled life, slower to pick up my pen to write.

Spring Thaw Writing Retreat 2017

What do I want from this escape? I want to hang out with some great people, enjoy the camaraderie of fellow writers and soothing embrace of a lakeside cottage. I want to write, to feel the joyful glide of fountain pen on crisp white paper.

Will the memoirist return to pick up the threads of the story about her mother and Alzheimer's Disease? Will the travel writer, anticipating the Norwegian fjords of the next great cruise, fill the pages with a journey of amazement? Will the former pastor give voice to the challenges of the job, the stories of faith, hope and love; fear, despair, and betrayal? Or, is there another story in the shadows, waiting to be inked?

It matters not to me which of my muses joins me during these rest-full days, or what she writes. The welcome mat is out for any and all. The pens are full. The paper fresh and inviting. It's going to okay. I can do this.






©2018 April Hoeller