“What does it take to lead a creative life?”
This was a question asked and explored by the author and creator of #1000wordsofsummer, Jami Attenberg. She was the final speaker (of a dozen in the publishing industry) at the 2025 Deep Dive Virtual Retreat I attended over the weekend. The lineup of presenters that two of my favorite podcasters (Bianca Marais and CeCe Lyra) put together was amazing. The name of the podcast (also with Carly Watters) says it all–The Shit No One Tells You About Writing. I highly recommend the podcast for writers and readers alike!
This past Saturday and Sunday, I sat comfortably inside my house with a couple hundred other people–in their houses–with my computer in front of me and my notebook in hand. One after another, each one of the twelve professionals from the publishing world spoke to me (us), with optimism (and realism). I have attended in-person writing workshops. I have taken online zoom classes. Before this virtual retreat, I questioned if it could feel close to attending a weekend retreat if I was at home with my animals and family.
I am here to tell you that it was worth every penny, and that I was, indeed, transported away from my farm out in the country. I was one of only three delegates from Virginia. The rest came from all over the world (not exaggerating). From ten am to five pm eastern (with a one hour lunch break), every minute was packed with information, and allowed room for questions and answers. I was informed and inspired (and giddy hearing their pep up music every time I logged in after a break).
I want to circle back to the question above, about leading a creative life, which was posed during Jami Attenberg’s presentation; she was the “closer” of the impactful deep dive retreat. Excellent choice. Budding writers like myself are sponges. I was soaked heavily by Sunday late afternoon: my notebook full of scribbles and starred important points, my desktop cluttered with screenshots of slides (even though we received all of the slides from the presenters), and my head spinning. But. I had room for more…
The forty-five minute talk that Jami gave, felt like she was speaking directly to me. I had one of those goosebump moments I get when someone reminds me that I am not crazy to be pursuing this writing dream. The last similar chill moment I experienced was at the end of a class I took in November about Hacking Writing on a Line Level from CeCe Lyra (the same podcaster I love). She had said on the zoom for all of us to pat ourselves on the back for creating words where they had not existed before. At the time, I was sitting on my rough draft of 96,000 words. Tears welled up in my eyes. I welcomed the feeling and let it feed my soul which had grown hungry for validation—that what I’d spent the past ten months working on had actually amounted to something. It was nothing but a blank screen…before I put down the words. Good, bad, or ugly. I created something.
A euphoric tingle ran down my spine again on Sunday, as Jami spoke to me about carving time out for creativity. Besides all of the tips for keeping out distractions and connecting with other writers, it was her final prompt that resonated with me. Time was out, so she simply imparted the three-part prompt. Simply:
- I wrote then because…
- I write now because…
- I will write in the future because…
I jotted down the prompt in my notebook—with intentions of answering later. The Deep Dive Retreat wrapped up with some winners drawn randomly for 10,000- word critiques from the weekend’s presenters. My name was not picked. (Bingo, lottery, and random drawings haven’t always worked for me…unless you count the time I was chosen for the Stand Up Comedy draw at the Erma Bombeck Writers Workshop last year).
I closed my laptop. I walked outside to the barn to see the goats, breathe in some fresh air and move my body. The writing prompt lingered. Why and when did I start writing? I know why I do now. Why will I write in the future? I scratched at Thomas Shelby’s head, Arthur rubbed his thick warm coat against me, Ada ruminated, her jaw moving like she was chewing gum. I ruminated along with Ada.
Thirty years ago, my words were first published in the local newspaper in Sacramento, California. It was a lifestyle article that posed the question of how moms were choosing to spend their Mother’s Day. “Your Mother’s Day Wishes.” Readers sent in descriptions. I honestly have no recollection of sending mine in or the thoughts I had, beyond loving my little bubble of mothering a toddler and an infant (our two other children were not born yet). What prompted me to send in my words? Perhaps it was the same thing that propelled me into signing up for a writing class in Connecticut at the lifelong learning center, or the memoir class in Richmond, Virginia, or creating the grizzlybearma blog.
I like sharing my observations, both the universal ones that connect us, as well as the unique ones that mark my life’s quirkier moments. Step into my shoes (or muck boots, lately). Sit with me in my painful moments. Laugh with me when life serves some humbling lessons. I write for the same reason I read. Connection. We do not have to walk this world alone.
This weekend my focus was on writing. The last speaker’s messaging about creativity applies to so many facets of life. It makes me think of my son who is a musician, my friend who loves hosting, flower arranging and menu planning, and my mother who is a watercolor artist. At one point in our lives, we all were creators and dreamers. Why did you do it then? If you are not doing it now, why not? And why will you do it in the future?
For someone like me, who was a little late to the game, struggling in elementary school with reading—I’m still suffering PTSD from the color-coded SRA program—I turned a corner in college when an Expository Writing professor gave me positive feedback. Me? The ADHD child who suffered through book reports and comprehension questions in grade school? I changed my major from Communications to Education. Determined to help other little Carolyns root out their literary potential, I became an elementary school teacher. A rebranded reader, my confidence restored, a fire was lit urging me into the previously intimidating world of words.
Today, I write to explore ideas, indulge my imagination, step out of my comfort zone, exercise my brain, and to ultimately connect with others. I will continue to write in the future because I know the joy it brings me to record my thoughts and to document my lifetime memories. Non-fiction or fiction (the lines are blurred). When I am no longer here, my words will be.
The picture below is my first published piece. I laugh thinking about my resume of published work. Does the PTO Newsletter count from Texas? How about the long Christmas letters I penned? The read aloud in the coffee shop where I performed a piece I wrote about my long lost blue nightgown? The 238 page Storyworth book full of questions I answered two years ago? This blog? Over 350 posts. It counts. To me anyway.
All I can say is, “Stay tuned. More to come.”
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