My Virtual Grant
By Joan Foley Baier
 

Zoom in! Click! At the sound of the pop, my prize appears. I won a grant. I WON A $1000 GRANT!!! Now I can do what I've always wanted to do but needed a kick in the wallet to do it:  organize an intimate writers' workshop.

I'd hire a favorite editor who is also a published author, and keep the number of participants to a select few.  With a thousand green ones in my virtual pocket, I am doing it. I've already worked out the economics (the grant money plus registration fees paid by the participants minus rent, food, editor's fee and airfare leaves about $50 as my personal cost). Here's my plan.

There is a secluded conference lodge nestled in the Bristol Hills of New York State. Surrounded by 40-plus acres of landscaped and wooded grounds, the rustic accommodations lend themselves to quiet and creative discussions, contemplative interludes, and fireside camaraderie. Factor it into my plan and assume I have rented it for a week, Friday night to the following Friday morning.

Picture me whisking my editor from the airport Friday night to the lodge and settling her into the best bedroom of the facility. We wine, dine, and prime for the 2-day weekend workshop. We review her outline of our previously decided theme, Show, Don't Tell… all the Way to Market, and go to our virtual rooms fairly early.

Saturday morning over a continental breakfast, I welcome and register the selected 10 writers, show them to their rooms, assign kitchen duty for when the box lunches are delivered, and introduce the editor/facilitator. The workshop officially begins!

The idea to limit the number of registrants to 10 really works. It permits comfortable interaction, opportunity for individual expression, and time for personalized discussion and critiquing of each other's work. It gives the editor an opportunity to meet potential authors for her imprint and to give singular advice to each person there.

The first day's sessions whiz by as the authors immerse themselves in the subject matter and warm to each other. After a catered dinner, the evening is free for walks through the gardens, popcorn and marshmallows over the fire, and fun talk of family, life, and writing. Conversation wanes from lively, with bursts of guffaws, to serious, to sleepy murmurs and yawns. Before I saunter off to bed, I ask for volunteers to help me with kitchen detail for Sunday's continental breakfast.

The smells of coffee brewing, bagels toasting and sweet rolls nuking coax everyone to the table Sunday morning. The energy generated from yesterday's workshops and evening fun keeps us all on schedule, eager to jump back into this new center of awareness, and ready for Sunday's session. New friends sit next to each other and share notes. The editor smiles her pleasure and delivers her remarks and answers using our first names and references to last night's fun.

The session ends late, a little after noon, as the catering staff sets up the brunch buffet. I'm the only one who doesn't have to pack and prepare to leave, so I do a little housekeeping-pick up papers, re-arrange chairs, etc. Brunch is the grand finale, except for a few writers who are waiting for the editor to give them a private critique.

The decibel level of conversations increases in direct relation to the food intake. It's as if we all want to savor every last minute of what we have built together. Later, I must remind everyone that we have to be out the door by 4:00 p.m.

But, as we did all weekend, we keep to the schedule and bid each other reluctant farewells with promises to "keep in touch". I drive the editor to the airport and learn that she had a fabulous time and would love to have a follow-up workshop, hopefully with the same group. I smile my appreciation and think, "Hmm, could I wrangle another grant somewhere?"

From the airport, I stop for groceries (potato chips, dip, ice cream and chocolate) on my way back to the lodge.

And now for my pièce de résistance!

All the workshop's synergy, inspiration, and creativity are rolled into one huge element:  motivation! I rub my hands together and grin, like some evil villain. I have the lodge to myself, I have my laptop, and I have four whole days to work on the greatest novel of my whole career. It's virtually fantastic!