Making the Most Out of Your Retreat

Posted on by sereichert

Hey writer and fellow creative friends. Wherever you are on your artistic journey, I hope you’ve considered the benefits of joining or participating in a retreat. Now, retreats can range from the ridiculously expensive, to renting a room at the shady looking motel three miles away. Some have classes or workshops, some have yoga or hiking mixed in, some are just straight up writing time.The point is to get out of your normal space, away from your normal routine, and spend that time focusing on your work. So whether you’ve broken the bank to jet set off to the French Riviera or you’re on your way to a twin room at the Motel 6, these tips can help you get the most out of that time. I even put it in a nifty little bullet list.

  • Be Prepared (Mentally):
    • One of the best tips I have, is to make yourself a list, before you go, detailing what you want to do, or get out of the retreat. Are you hoping to network and make connections? Are you aiming for a certain word count, or project completion? List out the major goals, then leave space (I’ll tell you why later on)
    • Be realistic but also a shade optimistic. Know your average, everyday word count and think about doubling or tripling it. You’ll have more time and less outward distractions and setting that goal will keep you on track. By making it a little challenging you’ll push yourself just enough. Even if you don’t hit the goal, you will get farther than if you’d been too ‘reasonable’.
    • Bring multiple or at least a couple different things to work on. The hours can become tedious and you might want to switch it up to stay fresh and motivated.
    • As a mom, and working mom, a strange thing happens the first few hours of being alone at a retreat. I get this thing I call “care-giver paralysis”. In the absence of doing for others, I can’t remember what to do with just myself. Understanding that this feeling will come, and I’ll have some listlessness helps me to remember to ease into the weekend with some journaling, or shorter projects.
  • Be Prepared (Physically):
    • The practical side of things is that you’re going to be away from home. But not on a typical vacation. So remember to bring your goal list, paper, pens, notebooks, journals, your laptop and charger…the basic tools of your trade. Make them your favorites or the one’s you’ve been ‘saving’ for something special. This is something special.
    • Plan for the environment: If you’re poolside or in the mountains, bring the proper clothing and footwear. You won’t be holed up in your room the whole time (I’ll explain more on that later). If there are dinners or classes, if it could be cold, or hot, try to think in layers. If its just writing, pack lots of comfortable clothing. Sunblock, hats and mittens. Bear spray or Mosquito spray?
    • Sleep aids- especially if sharing a room. I’m talking about eye covers, ear plugs, and headphones (not a rubber mallet if your roommate snores). Anything you need to get a good night’s rest.
    • Any special dietary needs/wants that the place won’t be able to provide.
    • Water bottle, medication, and bathroom necessities. Nothing is worse than being dehydrated and/or not having a toothbrush. Big and little comforts will make a huge difference.
    • Business cards. Holy shit, I can’t tell you how many times I’ve forgotten this one. Even if you’re just there to write, exchanging info with your fellow retreat members is great. You’ll be surprised how much you learn from one another in that time.
    • Tech that you need, none that you don’t. You’ll need brain breaks, you’ll probably want to check in with family once or twice, you may need a laptop. You probably don’t need your gaming system, and be careful of your social apps. This is a time for connecting with yourself and your art, not the 7 billion people of the world.
  • Be Flexible:
    • You’re going to have a goal list. You’re probably going to stray from it. That’s alright
    • There may be days when the word count fizzles or the scene doesn’t play out like you want. That’s okay.
    • There may be a project you exceed expectations on, and another you barely touch. That’s alright.
    • You may accidentally sleep in, or need a nap, or get caught up in conversations. These are good things.
    • Retreats are a balance of getting your work done, and taking care of yourself, which leads me to…
  • Schedule in Self-Care:
    • Bring along comfort. Your favorite pillow, blanket, clothing, music. Whatever it is that helps you feel relaxed and at home.
    • Take naps. You’re little brain is going to be working extra hard. It’s going to be focusing for hours and working through the plot holes and dialogues you’ve been avoiding. Schedule in time for naps, early bed times, or meditation on your goal list.
    • Take advantage of the outdoors. (Unless your Motel 6 is in a shady part of the city–then try to grab a Lyft to a safer part) Go for a hike or walk every couple of hours. Sit outside stare off into the far away for awhile. Your eyes and brain will thank you. Also schedule in brain breaks on your list.
    • Bring any nutritional or necessary snacks. I need coffee in the morning. I need tea before bed. I need fresh fruit and veg. I like hydration mix and the occasional bourbon on ice (not together, that would be gross) I want my Little Debbie brownies and my twizzlers. These little joys will keep your spirits up in the middle of the tough work.
    • Exercise, Mediate, Drink lots of Water, and take warm showers. All good things and breaks away from the intensity.
    • Skimping on self care will make you less productive and more likely to burn out. Nobody wants a mushy brain half way through.
  • Assess and Recalibrate:
    • After its all over, if you’ve got a drive home, or a flight…take some time to reflect. What went well? What was a challenge? What did you wish you had? What did you bring that you could have left home?
    • How did your goal list go? Did you overshoot? Did you get distracted, and by what?
    • How do you feel physically and mentally and how can you make sure that the next retreat leaves you feeling accomplished without being overwhlemed.

Well, there you go. I’m open to hearing if you have any other advice in the comments below. I’ll be heading a retreat next week, so if you’ll be there, I hope we can make it a great experience. If you can’t be there, I’ll be hosting another one in the fall with the Writing Heights Writers Association and I’ll let you know the details as they’re finalized. Until then, Happy Writing.

One Month Away! Book Launch and Deals

Posted on by sereichert

Ya’ll, I haven’t been so excited about a book coming out since…well ever. I started this book a couple of years ago at a writing conference. It was a rare and beautiful madness, where the characters would regularly interrupt me on my morning commute to the kids’ camps, my Peloton rides, my hikes, in line at the grocery store, with little snippets of their life. Like I was a radio that would pass by their frequencies and catch conversations. Notes were drawn up on my phone, scraps of paper and notebooks. Eventually landing on my screen. Only I didn’t write it as one novel. This book started out as two separate novels, one from each perspective that I then had to go back and merge into the finished project. It was messy and strange, (and an absolute headache for my editor I’m sure) but through it all, I’ve never gotten to know two characters more intimately.

It’s safe to say, I’m in love with them both. I need a Charlie in my life. I think we all do. I think we all need a Meg too. Someone to remind us what’s worth living for. To kick us in the pants when we feel too sorry for ourselves. To be in our corner, no matter what.

So, I hope that you’ll preorder it. Preordered sales count in the total number and it can really help an author to be seen in some of the bigger markets. Its not so much me that wants to be seen. It’s Charlie and Meg. I want the world to know them. So pre-order if you can! But if you want a little something more, I’m running a special book package for No Words.

If you chose to buy the book this way, you’ll be sent a signed copy of the book and some goodies, hand selected by me. The price will include the shipping cost. More details will be released in a couple of weeks, but if you’re interested now (I like to start making my list) shoot me an email (with the subject line No Words Special) or DM me on my socials.

I will also be crowing about the book launch and book signings that are currently getting hashed out, so please stay tuned for those and if you’re in the area, stop on by! I’d love to talk books and writing with you, and sign some copies. Dates and places to be announced soon.

Here’s a little excerpt:

Charlie asks me to meet for coffee the morning after Bradley’s departure. I, of course, comply. Coffee with Charlie always breaks me out of my mood. If there’s anyone crabbier at the world than me, it’s him. Plus, I love to hear him talk. About anything and nothing. I love the way he sits back and listens, discerning brows pulled together, as though he’s contemplating my words. As if I matter. I’m curious as to why he asked me and didn’t mention Gina coming along. Her birthday is coming up soon, and I’m sure Charlie, in his old-school romantic way, has devised a plan he needs help with.
What a man to find, I think as I put on my worn red boots to navigate the slush-deep sidewalks. It’s ten blocks but I don’t have enough for fare today. When I arrive, Charlie is there, already seated, readers on and mouthing answers to the crossword. I watch his lips count through the window. The spaces, the letters, making it all fit. He looks up, a graying curl on his forehead. He waves me in.
He looks pale. Paler than I’ve seen him in a long while and his bright blue eyes pop against his skin. His mouth is downturned, like he doesn’t want to talk first. He rarely does.
“Hey!” I puff out and the breath feels hot on my cheeks.
“Did you walk all the way?” he scowls.
“It’s a lovely fall day.”
“It’s twenty degrees out, Meg.”
I shrug and take off my coat, I settle in, nod for coffee and don’t allow even a moment before I dive into the dramatic end scene of Bradley. Charlie remains a statue as I recount the far-too familiar episode.
“And that’s how I ended up with all the rent and none of the sex.”
Charlie’s scowl deepens. “Well, thank God. The guy was a grade-A moron.”
“He got into Cats.” I say over the menu.
Charlie rolls his bright eyes over his readers and levels them on me.
“He couldn’t get into a bag of chips with scissors. The man was a talentless hack and you shouldn’t have paid his rent as long as you did.”
“You’re just saying that to be sweet.” I sip my coffee and looked out over the busy city street outside. The cloudy morning spits gray flakes against people’s faces as they walk by. I set aside the menu. I can’t afford toast, let alone breakfast.
“When have you ever known me to be sweet? Go to hell.” Charlie studies his puzzle again. I watch him from across the table. I love looking at Charlie. His wild and curly hair, unkempt and disrespectful. His face a map of a million laughs, handsome but in total, unrefined.
“Thanks,” I whisper. For the moment of stability, for reaffirming my faith in men. He reaches out, without looking up from his puzzle, and places his warm hand over mine with a squeeze.
“How is Gina?”
Charlie pauses, and with him, my heart. He never pauses when talking about Gina, he’s over the moon in love with her. There is always some news, some show, some smash hit that she’s working on mastering, filling up their brownstone with repeated notes and lines, and the sparkle that is Gina. There is no pause to a life so full. Charlie clears his throat.
“It’s back.”
The words are like a double hit to my chest. I don’t have to ask what ‘it’ is. It’s only be five years since it took root in her the first time. Now it takes root in me, with the kind of despair that steals words.
“Charlie, no.”
“Yes… It’s bad, Meg.”
I ache with anger. I want to throw my fist into something, but I’m stupid and weepy instead, so I take his warm hand in mine.
“What can I do?”
“Be here,” he says.
I sniff and look up to staunch the deluge. My crying doesn’t help any of us, and he certainly doesn’t need to feel worse for my tears.
“Ok. How is she?”
“Tired,” he shakes his head, tucking the paper beneath his plate. I watch him take off the readers and rub his eyes. “This time is already worse.”
I’m at a loss. What the hell do you say to that? I’m a fuck up, not a doctor. I have nothing to give him, even after they’ve given me so much. My heart aches and I’m desperate to do something.

What’s Coming Up This Month

Posted on by sereichert

Hey kids, it’s your monthly reminder of some cool stuff happening in my world and for writers everywhere.

First, this month on the 29th, Writing Heights Writers Association will be hosting its monthly classes. For the morning class, I’ll be teaching a super fun workshop on how to apply Gothic style and themes to every genre. We’ll be talking about the history of the style as well as how it applies to character, social commentary, and the prevailing themes that can enhance every genre. The afternoon class will be “Hiding the Bodies: Enliven Your Writing with Exquisite Corpse and Ekphrastic Poetry” with Chris Guppy and it should be a really fun and interesting day of class. I hope you are all able to come.

Remember, these are virtual so you can attend from anywhere (keep in mind its 10 and 12 MST). You don’t have to be a member to join and they’re inexpensive for quality classes. You can register here: MARCH CLASSES.

Remember, if you are a writer, of any level, and you have information to share with your writing community, send us in a proposal. It doesn’t have to be writing specific, and we’re always looking for ways to expand our knowledge and make cool connections with the arts and the business side of writing. You can send in your proposals HERE.

Next up…let’s see. I’ll be rearranging the Youth class this next month to accommodate Passover, more on that in my social feeds and on the website. I will also be looking for a new person to run the Youth Class for Writing Heights as I’m currently kicking my own ass with being over scheduled.

Speaking of that, I have a book coming out in May! And pre sales really matter. So if you wanted to get a copy, you can preorder it HERE. I’ll also be running a special pre-order package where I’ll send you the book, signed, and some goodies to go along with it, exclusive to those preorder packages only. I’ll keep you up to date on that as I have more details from my publisher.

I’m running a writing retreat in May (the 11th through the 14th) in Allenspark, Colorado. It will feature a flexible schedule of two different tracks. One for Memoir, one for Craft/Creativity. There will be time for critique as well as time to get some of your own writing done. Private rooms are a little expensive, but all prices include your food and room as well as the high-quality instruction, morning yoga, and some some of the coolest people I know.

I’ll be at the Mesa Verde Literary Festival (and writers conference) on July 9th-12th and also at Rocky Mountain Fiction Writers Conference in September. More on the classes I’ll be teaching and workshops I’ll be running later.

Other than that, I’m working on finishing up a Christmas-but-not-Hallmark holiday novel and hoping to start edits on my next series soon with 5 Prince Publishing.

My oldest is getting ready to graduate so May will be full with three major things happening all at once (I did it all to myself so there’s no real way to complain about it) If you have a hard time getting a hold of me, trust that I’m just trying to keep my head above water.

Hope to see you in some classes and some book signings soon!

The Trouble with Love

Posted on by sereichert

Well, well, well, if it isn’t a day away from that ridiculous, capitalist exchange day. You know, the one where we exchange affection for $8 cards and a box of (probably last year’s) chocolates to prove we are enamored with one another. Valentine’s Day has become a symbol for showy displays and, in some part, single shaming. I’m always heartened when I hear of people celebrating in counter culture ways, because if anyone needs a big middle finger to the face, it’s capitalism and ‘traditional’ heterosexual misogyny.

So, I’m against love, right? Not in the slightest. Hell most of my writing career exists because I believe in and ache for, and get excited by love. But that doesn’t have anything to do with fancy jewelry or a hearty case of diabetes in a heart shaped box. Love is about connection. It’s about support and reliability. It’s about physical affection (not necessarily sex) and putting forth the effort to remember what they take in their coffee. It’s about hearing the exhaustion in their voice and ordering dinner in. It’s about sending silly memes that remind them of you. It’s a million different things that don’t necessarily have to put money into the corporate cesspool. If you’ve never read one of my books, the ongoing theme of them is that Love is something to be worked on and perfected. Love makes you want to be a better person. Love carries you past the hardships and centers you in the storm.

I’m not against love. I’m against my feelings being taken hostage and only released if I pay their fee. I’m against having to ‘prove’ affection with overpriced flowers or the anxiety of ‘choosing’ the right gift. Let me sleep in on a Saturday and bring me coffee in bed…that’s love. When I’m cranky and raging, kiss my forehead, tell me I’m right and the world is a fucking mess, and go take a warm bath, that you’ll clean up dinner. Be open and honest about your emotions and trust me enough to love you no matter what.

I urge you on the upcoming holiday to think differently about how you express your love. Write a poem, or if you’re not a poet-y type, find a poem and send it. Pick them up a coffee or tea on your way. Support a local book store and take them there for a date. Put on their favorite movie and sling a frozen pizza in the oven. Hold them when they cry. Turn off their light for them when they fall asleep reading. Give them the first cookie out of the oven. Clean up the cat vomit so they don’t have to…these are the things that make up love.

On a larger scale, I urge you to think more expansively about love. Stand up for others. Use your privilege and any means necessary to protect human rights, and the constitution. Protect science, and education. Fight for living wage, and lower cost medical services, adopt a rescue pet, donate to the food bank, donate blood, hell-donate a kidney, don’t allow disadvantaged voices to be silenced in any room you’re in. Fight for equal pay and stand between bullies without warrants and people just trying to live a better life. Join the resistance, support the National Park Service, and keep reminding Google that it’s “The Gulf of Mexico”. There are a million ways to show your love, that don’t need to put money into the pockets of corporations who’ve sided with a traitor to democracy. That makes up the larger love that we all need so desperately right now.

Happy V-Day.

What’s Coming Up

Posted on by sereichert

Sort of hard to think about a future right now, to be honest. But resistance and rebellions were not built on giving up ground. So, I keep getting up. I keep supporting the people I love and the people who are in the most need, and I keep practicing my art. I’m writing representatives and flooding ICE hotlines with tips to look into the financial contributions of an illegal immigrant named Musk. I’m donating money to Planned Parenthood and frequenting the library. I’m making sure that my organization (Writing Heights Writers Association) will always honor Diversity, Equity And Inclusion. That I understand privilege poisons the well of our society and I am a part of that, so it’s my duty and my honor to use what little power I have to uplift everyone in my community, support them, listen to them, and advocate in ways that help them most, not my ego.

On top of that, here are some things I’ll be doing. If you’re in the area, or are interested in supporting my writing organization or my career, you can. For the record, WHWA is not a non-profit, but its not a money maker either. It’s a zero-sum game after I pay the bills and the teachers so, know that if you sign up for a class, or register as a member, your fees go to teaching and supporting writers. It is a labor of love and I hope I can do it for a very long time.

Here’s a Bullet List:

  • Starting in February, I’ll be looking for Beta readers and reviewers for my newest book, “No Words After I Love You” is a beautiful homage to love, grief, and how we, as humans cope with the shifting changes, losses, and heartaches in life while still being open to love and joy. It follows two older friends on a journey of rediscovering their fire and making peace with the past. I’d call it contemporary/literary fiction with a romantic/philosophical twist. Let me know and I’ll send you a copy.
  • WHWA is hosting classes at the end of the month in February and we’ll be talking about Plotting (Cristina Tripani-Scott) and How to Write Emotion in Fiction (me) You don’t have to be a member to attend and it’s all virtual so you can come in your pjs. Here’s the link to register: WHWA CLASSES
  • Registration is opening up in February for WHWA’s Spring Workshop and Retreat. This year we’ll have two tracks: Memoir and Creative Craft. There will be morning yoga, evening readings and socializing and plenty of time to write if that’s how the time serves you best. All up in beautiful Allenspark with views of Longs Peak and Rocky Mountain National Forest.
  • In March (the 12th) I’ll be giving a talk at Founded in Fort Collins, sort of a community organizer/entrepreneur conference, aimed to help small businesses, nonprofits, and aspiring hopefuls navigate the world. My talk will be about the importance of writing, and getting your voice heard. Here’s the dets:
  • I’m pitching two new novels to 5 Prince Publishing. Each is the first novel in a three-part series and I’m excited to get back into some fun, escapist romance. One is a time-traveling, historical romance, and the other is an odd hodgepodge of paranormal romance. Both have higher spice factors so…yum. I’m hopeful to get them out towards the end of the year, depending on how badly written they are and how much work my poor editor has to do.

Well, that’s all the news from my corner of the world. I hope you are doing good and just things from where you’re at. Be kind, work hard, don’t falter. Change happens with consistency and determination. We’ve got those things, so don’t lose hope.

What’s going on?

Posted on by sereichert

Hey there, consider this a ‘newsletter’ of sorts. I’m sure you’re all DYING to know what’s going on in my life, and have nothing between Thanksgiving and the Winter Holidays to keep you busy, so here’s a short run down of what I’m doing.

First, there’s going to be a little party, the last in the physical office of Writing Heights Writers Association, December 7th from 1-4. There will be food, books, good conversation and a teary (probably, I know I’ll be crying) send-off to our amazing director, Amy Rivers. She’s had a lot of battles this year and her bravery and fortitude has been inspiring. With so much weight to carry, it hasn’t been easy. But, in doing only a small part, I’ll be taking over for her as the director. And though we’re unfortunately losing her as the leader and our office (I wish I had the funds to keep it but rents are high) we will still be providing support, inspiration and services to writers in the community and beyond. In January I’ll be announcing some exciting opportunities and some return to activities that COVID had put a pause on.

Second, If there are classes or topics you’d like to see more of through WHWA, please let me know. If you’re struggling with a certain skill or marketing aspect, I want to know so even if I don’t know the best answers, I can find a super smart person to help you with it. Also, we’ll be bringing some longer, more in depth workshops for our members so if there’s something you want to deep dive into (memoir, screenwriting, character development, book launching) let me know and I’ll try to get it put on the schedule this year.

Third, I have a new book coming out with 5 Prince Publishing! It will be released May, and y’all, this is my favorite yet. I know we’re not supposed to have favorites, but…No Words After I Love You is an expansive and beautiful trek through grief, creativity, loss, acceptance and love. Its funny and poetic and…there aren’t any steamy scenes but it’s one of the best kisses I’ve ever written so… Gosh, I really hope it does well. More details to come.

Finally, my sweet kiddo will be going in for surgery mid month. A pretty scary, big surgery and I hope you’ll excuse me from being absent from the world for a few weeks. Wish us luck, send us all your good thoughts, and hug your babies tight (even if they’re teenagers and hate it). So much of our lives are wrapped up in their survival, thriving, and living a loved life, so I know you’ll extend me grace if I can’t get to emails and requests as quickly.

That’s about all the news that’s news. I know I’m supposed to include some links to my books or something? So…here’s where you can buy my stuff. Also, I appreciate it if you do, I don’t make much as a writer but there will be some hefty bills coming up and every bit helps.

LINKS TO MY BOOKS

Take care out there, pause in the busy season and remember to breathe, and I’ll catch up with you soon!

Community and The Introvert Writer

Posted on by sereichert

So, I’m being ambitious and getting a few of my blogs written while at the Writing Heights Writers Association Fall Retreat, in beautiful Grand Lake, Colorado. (We’ll be updating soon for our Spring Retreat) And I’m reminded…that I actually like being around people. Not all people mind you. But writer’s are a special sect and I want to talk about them.

I’ve been a part of a lot of different groups. Martial artists, anthropologists, archaeologists, massage therapists, pilots, refinery workers, landscape crews, teachers…and they all have their own little micro cultures and ways of communicating, but being around other writers is something kind of special.

For one, and this is something I never knew I needed…no one bats an eye if you wander off from a conversation to sit down and write. AND while you’re writing, no one comes up behind you to ask a question, interrupt or disrupt you. There’s a solemn air about someone sunken into the process and not only do you find the peace to pursue it in these moments, but you can actually feel a beautiful, uplifting energy of minds at work. That’s one of the biggest reasons retreats have always worked for me. Even as the facilitator of this particular one, I’m given grace to work on my projects and supported in doing so.

Secondly, no one coming to these retreats is a stranger to the biggest issues that plague us all. Fears, imposter syndrome, frustrations, the bane of feeling blocked and the uncertainty of where to go when we do finish. The feelings that someone is always more successful, someone is always writing more… We are all in the battle, and see each other. That level of understanding and grace gives you a blanket of comfort so that those lows don’t feel insurmountable.

So, this is a friendly reminder, no matter what you write, no matter where you are in the process or the struggle, get yourself a group of writers. You don’t have to meet every week, you don’t have to always talk writing (some of the best conversations we’ve had here were on the complexities of life, of parenting, of ecology and wildfires, and…the anatomical measure of a moose) and you don’t have to share your work. But you will know you’re not alone, and that someone is rooting for you and your words. And that, my friend, is priceless.

Big, Weird News

Posted on by sereichert

Well, shit. I don’t know how to say this but, I sort of did a thing. A thing I’m not sure if I’ll regret or not. Or if it will destroy my life, my writing and my sanity. But… remember last week’s post? No? Go back and read it, I’ll wait….

Okay, so now that we’ve established that the heart is a weird and dumb critter who regularly drives us off of cliffs, the big, weird news is that I went ahead and veered my Studebaker straight off the cliff into taking over the Director position and ownership of Writing Heights Writers Association. Yep. I’m soon to be in a position of authority and that’s…the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard of.

But the fact is, my heart did it. Because I love this group. I love it’s members and its potential, and the things it can do for writers, in their struggles and grief and in their times of triumph. Because I believe in writing and I believe in writers. And I couldn’t see it fizzle and die out. And I’m definitely not guaranteeing it will thrive or even survive, but I made the choice based on a tenement I hold pretty close to my heart. It comes down to something I spoke of last weekend at the RMFW Colorado Gold Conference (I hope you made it) about Fear.

I have to credit a good friend with a phrase I heard in one of his lectures. Safety is not a place we learn anything. You could keep your Studebaker on the road, safely from one point to the next, never look around, never make a pitstop, and be the same damn person you were when you left as when you arrive. It is by throwing ourselves into the stupid and weird, and impossible that we grow. That we learn. That we discover. And what in the hell is life for, if not to discover?

I can’t run it the same way anyone else did before me. I’m not a smooth operator, I don’t have vast amounts of clout or money, or talent for that matter, (haha). But I’ve got this jabberwocky heart of mine. That’s a little wild, and a little goofy, and all about joy and puppy-like enthusiasm. All gnashing of teeth and snickering of snacks. Too full of love to ever make exactly the right decision. Sometimes it can’t even make the most practical one. But safety is not a place we learn anything. Practicality is a tether we’re given to remain docile.

So in the coming months I’m going to be gearing up to take over (starting officially in January). I’ll be trying to learn about processes, current issues facing writers, networking, and taxes and community building and all that wonderful and horrible stuff that nobody taking classes or going on retreats will have to think about. I’m going to think of my writers and my amazing team first, and my comfort second. I’m going to do my best to keep the heart of this thing wild, but filled with enough love and compassion to be reliable. I may be reaching out to some of the amazing and beautiful people I know to ask for advice and warnings. I’ll probably need to lean on friends until I find my balance.

All I really need to do now, is to make sure there are some good plotters on my side, to keep me from pantsing this thing into the ground. Stay tuned, and we’ll go on this ride together. Maybe we’ll even learn something.

What’s Up This Month?

Posted on by sereichert

Wow, I’m so glad you asked. I’d love to say, I’ll be doing a lot of fall gardening, hiking to my heart’s content, writing in hoodies with hot tea and snuggling into the fall. Unfortunately, its still hot as balls here, and a writer’s work is never done. So none of that will transpire (though I may sneak away for a hike). Below are some links on where I’ll be, what I’ll be doing, and some cool books, events and classes I hope you’ll check out. Not to sound altruistic, but its not all about me here…

One of my favorite people in the whole world is releasing his first novel today (September 5th). William Missouri Downs is a delightful, ingenious writer. He’s been a play and screen writer for many years and this is his first foray into fiction. And let me tell you…its fucking brilliant. If you like humor, philosophy, and quick, fun, laugh-out-loud scenes, you won’t be disappointed. You can get your own copy of it here: 5 Minutes From Chaos

My first Youth Writer’s meeting happens on September 14th. The group meets once a month but in the next year we’ll be bringing in some stellar guest speakers and doing a lot more to help the members get writing time in and promote their work. If you know of a youth (12-18) who loves to write but who’s creativity is constantly being smooshed flat by diagraming sentences in English class, send them my way. Nothing but uneducated, free-wheeling writing going on here. It’s in person and virtual and FREE. Check it out here: Youth Writing WHWA

I’m taking my oldest daughter on a college visit to New York state. I don’t want to pressure her, but I’m really hoping she likes The University of New York Fredonia, because one of my bestest friends works there in the English department. I’ll actually get to see her while I’m in town, and this lady Rebecca Cuthbert, is a writer you should get to know. Her work is brilliant, dark, smart, delicious and spine tingling. I just love it. Her newest books and releases can be found here: Rebecca Cuthbert

I’ll be helping to host some of the events with Writing Heights Writer’s Association, so if you want more information on a great group that will help you better your writing skill and offer you a wonderful support system of other writers who really get it, check them out here: WHWA

Finally, I’ll be attending the Rocky Mountain Fiction Writer’s Colorado Gold Conference at the end of the month and I’m all atwitter over it. Nervoucited? Excitous? I’ll be teaching the classes shown below at the event and trying to cram going to as many more as I can. The presenters are amazing, the content offered is awesome and I’m just gearing up to writer-geek out. Here’s the link if you want to register, because I would LOVE to see you there: RMFW Gold Conference.

Well, that’s it (as though all of this isn’t going to run me ragged) I hope that you find something cool to do with the month and I hope I get to see you sometime. Take care!

A Little Something…

Posted on by sereichert

Hello friends, writers and readers.

I hope this week finds you getting back into the swing of things and finding a groove. Whether that’s winding down summer and getting ready for fall, or getting your kiddos back into school, I hope you’re finding some time to rebalance, and recenter. I’ve got a little teaser for a book I’ve been working on this year. I thought it might be a change from the poetry I normally offer and maybe a preview of a book that will hopefully be coming out within the next year.

Enjoy!

No Words After I Love You: Excerpt

““I’ve never believed in God, but I believe even less now. If there ever was a God, then it was her. My planets revolved around her and the world did not deserve the warmth of her star. None of us deserved her.” Don knows I mean him; the great idiot has to know. I hang my head, chance a glance at the crowd, blurred through eyes that are viciously crying, despite my resolution to be angry over sad. “God doesn’t deserve her either.”

That’s all. That’s all I can get out and not point my finger at Don and his treacherous heart. How dare he ruin the last testament to my wife, even if I didn’t want to be here. How dare he show up and mourn a woman who was mine? I sit down next to my father who clears his throat and in it, speaks a volume of reprimands.

Denouncing God in front of the entire church on such a sacred day such as this, Charles?

“Add it to my tab, Dad,” I whisper beneath my breath.

The flurry doesn’t stop, and I think I sign some paperwork, and I collect the ashes, which were to be separated and scattered, between New York and Georgia. Both urns come home to the apartment, where a good old-fashioned wake has been dictated by my late bride. A wake.

Wakes are for Catholics, I’d said. She shrugged in her robe and took my chin in her hand.
They always seem like fun, is what she had said.

Of her own funeral, she wanted it to…seem fun. She wanted wine and music and dancing and laughing. I have the wine. I think Meg did that. Meg ordered the food too…It’s all here, and so is the endless trail of well-wishers, face after face. Graceless, awkward patting of my shoulder from nearly all. Gina was the hugger. They are not sure what to do with me.

The only thing that’s not here is Meg and I look at every new face that enters the apartment, every milling sheep as though she’s snuck in. Where in the hell is that girl? Maybe it’s my brain, trying to distract from my grief, but it’s got me worried. I haven’t talked to her since that morning when she asked me where to put the flowers after the service. I said I didn’t care. She said she thought she could donate them…

I said God could shove them up his ass. She said she was too short to reach, but she’d see what she could do…I unexpectedly smile in the middle of someone else’s story.

Where is Meg? Did she get left at the church? Left by the people she loved, once more? Orphaned again?
Two hours into the malicious and introvert nightmare, and the endless parade of people (thankfully Don must have taken my not-so-subtle hint and had the mind to stay away) is starting to quiet.

Meg walks in. I watch, from the kitchen as she sneaks through the front door, as if she’s trying to slip in without opening another wound. Her nose is pink and her eyes are watery from the cold. Or maybe its the grief.

She hangs up her scarf and that old threadbare coat. She pauses to say hello to my father, as if he deserved her softness. She’s walking through, not a soul recognizing the plainness of her, the very un-Broadway nature of Meg, in her simple black dress, probably the only one she owns, and probably only because Gina helped her find it. She gives people that awkward, tight-lipped smile that one offers in these situations, perhaps a handshake or a fluttering pat on the shoulder. But no words are exchanged.

My God, but she’s given me something to focus on. Poetry in her plainness, an anchor in this stormy sea.
I can tell she doesn’t want to be here. I can tell she knows she doesn’t belong.

I feel like she might try to sneak out. Give me some awful excuse tomorrow, like she was there but missed me in the hustle bustle of it all. But I can’t let that happen. Because she needs to know…she’s not abandoned. Someone notices. Gina begged me to notice her. As she passes the kitchen I reach out and take her wrist in my hand. It’s small and just the act of wrapping fingers around her bones halts her world.

I always think Meg is so much bigger, but she pulls easily into my arms and I’m just as startled as she is. The kitchen is quiet and I’m not sure why I react like such a desperate man, thinking she might leave. I’m not sure what to do now, with Meg so close. I cannot account for the grief in me. I am desperate. For any normalcy. For someone not in the business. Someone who…knows me.

“Where have you been?” I hiss.

“The park?”

My heart shoots up into my throat. The smallness of her wrist and how easily I was able to kidnap her into the kitchen makes me overpour in worry.

“By yourself?”

“I couldn’t—” she pauses and looks into my face. “I didn’t think you’d notice.”

“Didn’t think I’d notice? That you weren’t here?” Words come out of my mouth. I’ve been regulating all day. I can’t regulate with Meg.

“You’ve got a lot of people here and more socializing than I know you want to do. I didn’t want to be one more obligation for you.”

Martin, one of my favorite horn players from the pit of many a show-stopper, steps into the kitchen for another sandwich. He gives Meg an awkward, tight-lipped smile, and pats my shoulder lightly, before he leaves. My brain refocuses into the tired vulnerability, unguarded in her.

“Don’t leave me alone.”

“You’re not alone, everyone is here,” she points out.

“They’re here for her—” I ache. I look towards the sounds of laughter and stories in the next room over. In this sea, I am alone.

“I’m here for you,” Meg says and puts both of her hands on either side of my face. I look into her eyes, a quiet shore. I feel my face pinch up like I’m going to cry and that stupid girl, throws her arms around my waist and holds me. Buries her face in my chest, so I can cry and not be watched. She holds me so tight.
Like someone who loves you holds you. Without reserve, without any awkward pause, without worry for societal rules or false conclusions. I’m stunned into accepting. When was I last hugged? Hugged like a Midwestern girl hugs? Warm and close and like two hearts are trying to reach each other through the cage of ribs between. Never.

She smells like cold air and the traces of someone smoking on a park bench, and shampoo that’s soft and flowery. I could push her away and berate her for being stupid and sentimental. But my body sinks into the warmth. Fuck, I need a hug. A real one. Does she need it as badly as I do?

I put my arms around the smallness of her. I don’t know how tightly she needs this and I know I shouldn’t care, so I just hug her like I want to hug, and she shivers and I shiver back and I feel the tears welling up between us, a great lava flow started from an earthquake. I run my hands through her hair, and hold her tragic little brain next to my heart.

“My girl,” I whisper and catch myself.

Who’s girl? Which girl?

It demands an answer and I have to decide. “She was my girl.”

The grief flies its middle finger to my stoicism and Meg is so warm and close and just so…there…that I start to cry. And I don’t know what to do, so I just let it go. She’s whispering her anguish, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry over and over like Meg was responsible for the treacherous cells or the decade long affair, or the loss of everything I thought was true. As if she was putting that on her plainly dressed shoulders.

Comfort in her warmth starts to feel like betrayal. I think she feels it too. I sniff and pull away. I’m too confused to have her so close. I’m too far into the middle of my grief, I’m bound to make poor choices. I can’t look at her in case any part of this ache is still in my eyes. She tries to look at me but I pat her shoulder like Martin patted mine. Awkwardly. Boundaries thrown up in defiance. I need to get out of this kitchen. Into a crowd where I can be unseen again. I pause and hand her a box of Kleenex before I go. I hear her sniff and pull out a couple before blowing her nose in a very…moose-like manner.

The honking of it brings the first tickle of a laugh I’ve felt in days.”