the sincerity is the point

on hosting my first writers retreat

prompts I prepared for our timed write and share

Sometime in February, I decided to host a writers retreat. It turns out there isn’t some kind of test you have to pass, you’re just allowed to do it. If someone asked for my credentials I wouldn’t be able to give them much anyway. I have never published my work in an official capacity. I do not have an English degree with a concentration in Literary Studies, or any college degree for that matter. What I do have, though, is more important than any of that: the desire to tell a story.

There’s one story my mom always tells when reflecting on my creativity as a little girl.

“Julianna didn’t need dolls— she would take the Q-tips from my bathroom and sit on the floor and start making all these stories with them.” This embarrassed me more than it probably interested anybody, but it’s true. I have always assigned emotion and storylines to anything I could get my hands on.

I eventually moved away from dolls, albeit a lot later than my peers (I made music videos with Bratz dolls well into my sophomore year of High School) but the stories continued elsewhere. I wrote a musical about a grocery store iconically titled Cash or Credit on the family desktop, and inked comic books about a post-apocalyptic world where the air was so contaminated civilization moved underwater. I learned the ukulele at a time when it was very cool to do that and told my stories through songs. I still think the most natural writing for me is in song from. I love being able to express a big feeling with a simple line.

Last year, my friend Sydney invited me to join a writing group. We had coffee at a wine bar in Cobble Hill and discussed how we’ve been wanting to expand our skillset. She introduced me to two of her friends and a monthly meeting dubbed The Lore was born. It wasn’t that far into our sessions that the idea of a retreat popped up, and wouldn’t you know it I have just the place to host one.

Sand Pond is a family property that’s been on my mom’s side for generations. The property was originally purchased in the 1800s, and the main house, known as “The Big House”, was built in the 1920s by my Great Grandfather. The interiors are untouched by time in such a miraculous way it feels as if you’ve turned back the clock the moment you’ve pulled up the driveway. It sits within a few thousand acres of woods, with a path down to the most beautiful lake with a characteristically sandy bottom. It is my version of holy ground.