This past weekend I attended the Journey to Jupiter writing retreat led by “Writing is Joy”
and “Make it Worse” Ralph Walker. Right now I’m looking behind me and wondering who wrote that sentence. That I used the verb “attended” in the same utterance as the word “I” is alarming to me. I haven’t attended anything since high school, and my track record then was around 70% on a good year, what with the superpower of inventing extremely realistic and pressing reasons I had to be elsewhere. I rolled out of class like a salad grape on a dressing-slicked plate.What does it take to bring a mostly feral, itinerant, deeply cranky, mommed-out meat-bag into the writers’ fold?