Writer Residencies: Oh the Places You’ll Go

By Jenny Neill

The Hedgebrook Alumnae Leadership hosted a panel discussion about writer residencies and conferences at Hugo House on Wednesday, October 24. Many Seattle Writergrrls were among those who packed the room that night to hear advice from Susan Rich, Donna Miscolta, and Claudia Rowe. While much of the discussion covered retreats, the speakers also touched on finding grants to help offset costs for programs that don’t offer a full ride.

Susan Rich, an accomplished poet, has attended over 10 residencies all over the world. Novelist Donna Micolta has already participated in more than half a dozen writer programs despite having started writing seriously later in life. Claudia Rowe is presently in the Jack Straw Writers Program and left New York City to move to Seattle after her residency at Hedgebrook.

Each panelist spoke about how to find residency programs and how to prepare for the experience once accepted. Rich encouraged us to reach for our dreams while treating the search for the right placement like trying to get into grad school. She stressed staying organized, creating a cohesive narrative, and conducting research because no two writer or artist communities have the same mission or culture. Talking to past residents is a great way to decide whether and when to apply.   Read more

5 Questions for Amy Wheeler on Hedgebrook and the LGBTQ Themes in Her Plays

By Humanities Washington

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Amy Wheeler came looking for a place to write … and stayed.

Since 2006 the playwright has held a “day job” as executive director of Hedgebrook, a 24-year-old retreat for women writers on Whidbey Island, where she first came seeking a place to craft her stage plays.

While Hedgebrook has granted creators including author-activist Gloria Steinem, erotic novelist Megan Clark, and poets Carolyn Forché and Suheir Hammad a relaxed space to fulfill their work, it’s also given Wheeler a fulcrum on which to balance the demands of steering a major nonprofit and concocting drama that rewards an audience.

“I’m writing more than ever now,” Wheeler says, “and I’m very, very excited about the new work I’m generating.”

Wheeler earned her master’s from the Iowa Playwrights’ Workshop and proceeded to create eight produced plays – some of them gestated at Hedgebrook, where she first came after winning a residency in 2002. That year, she wrote her first draft of a three-act play during five days in a Hedgebrook cottage … and the production went into rehearsal two months later. Her gratitude to Hedgebrook led her to join the board the following year, and finally throw her hat in for the directorship.   Read more

Bridge to Baraka

By Yvette Heyliger

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Yours truly, Yvette Heyliger (Willow 2011 & Oak 2008), was selected to present an excerpt from my first one woman show, Bridge to Baraka, in We Are Theatre, the women theatre artist advocacy event conceived and produced by Guerrilla Girls On Tour! at the Cherry Lane Theatre on September 24, 2012. Since 2001, Guerrilla Girls On Tour! has annually protested against sexism in the American Theatre. These protests purposely occur around the time of the Tony Awards to highlight the fact that women are not nominated for Tony’s because they are seldom hired to work on Broadway. Even in the 2011-2012 theatre season where an unprecedented four plays by women were produced, none of these women dramatists received a Tony award nomination for “Best Play.” We Are Theatre was also produced by 50/50 in 2020 and Women’s Initiative (made up of members of the Dramatists Guild). It was made possible through the generosity of founder and artistic director of the Cherry Lane Theatre, Angelina Fiordellisi, and a host of sponsors including Hedgebrook.   Read more

Mistaking My Face for an Ashtray

By Jennifer Munro

In a strange twist of synchronicity, I started working on a short piece about Frankenstein’s monster a month ago; the next morning my face began to erupt in shingles, a mess of painful blisters and scabs. At first I had no idea what was going on and blamed spiders at the vacation home where I was staying.

As I shaped words about the ugly monster whom no one loved and who never had a name, did I bring to life the scarred face that I would soon have, in which it looked—and agonizingly felt—like cigarettes had been extinguished across my forehead and temple? One eye swelled shut, and the eye socket bloated into a prominent, ballooned, circular frame around it. A crusty rash bloomed on my eyelid.   Read more

Listening for Echoes: A Hedgebrook Happening in New York

By Amy Evans

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

On September 16th, I went to an afternoon performance of Say You Heard My Echo by fellow Hedgebrook alumn Kelly Zen-Yie Tsai at HERE performance space. It was a new performance piece fusing spoken word and theatre in an experimental exploration of the lives of three women of Asian descent attempting to come to terms with loss and find healing in New York City. At least, this was what I took from the performance; it was a thematically rich piece that explored spirituality, love, activism, survival, mental health, and family, a treasure chest of all of the ragged ends that make us each our own delightful and baffling little universe. But loss was the theme that rang loudest in my ears: the pain of losing love and faith, but also the wonder of losing fear.

After the show I went upstairs and ran into Mary Armstrong – another fellow Hedgebrook alumn. (These chance sightings were not actually so much left to chance, I should add, but rather the result of a very concerted and I would say successful effort by Reiko Rizzuto to rally New York-based alumn around Kelly’s performance.) We started chatting, assuming that the audience members would eventually emerge from downstairs and we would all converge and head to another hangout spot to continue discussing what we’d seen. We didn’t realize, however, that everyone else had taken the downstairs exit, and two hours later, as Kelly and her company had nearly finished striking the set, we were still talking. Mary is a prose writer and I am a playwright, and both of us are working on very different themes. (I must remember to ask Mary to tell me more about what writing a mystery is like. Do you know the answer to the mystery before you start writing? Or do you yourself make discoveries as your protagonist does? Are you allowed to surprise yourself, or are you forever in control? And my god, isn’t that the ultimate quest in life: negotiating the fine line between surprise and control?) We both found ourselves struggling with the question of permission: as writers we are always outsiders, but as people – for lack of a better term – our positions are far more complex. We cross boundaries constantly, sometimes tripping over them; we are welcome participants in some spaces and intruders in others. And while the imagination grants us all-access passes – or claims to – there are still boundaries in place that we are keenly aware of, that we must negotiate before we can think about crossing them.

Following our conversation, I was reminded of a woman at a Hedgebrook meeting at the Lark Play Development Center a few months ago who made a comment I noted down on an imaginary post-it note and stuck to the inner side of my cranium: ‘White men do not ask permission to write with authority about anything. And yet they do.’ Does this mean that we should too? The reactionary in me wants so badly to say yes, and it always takes a minute for me to remember that the reactionary in me, for all her zeal, rarely gets anything right. Asking permission is important to me, but permission is a very problematic word, one that too often evokes a desperate need for approval. When I talk about a writer seeking permission, I don’t mean approval. I’m talking about permission to trust the imagination and rely upon our own instinct for truth, no matter how uncomfortable that truth may be. In Kelly’s piece, each of the three protagonists finds for herself a spiritual guide, a female voice that advises, comforts and re-affirms her on her journey. I can’t count the number of times I have requested the assistance – and yes, the permission – of such a guide, particularly if I was developing a character based on the life of a real person. Sometimes my request for permission came in spending hours writing internal monologues, stuff that I knew would never make it even as far as the first draft, let alone the final draft, but that I needed in order to get to the heart of my subject. And other times the request for permission came in a far more literal sense (read: pleading through my tears on bended knees). But this is the work we must do if we want to be true to our craft as writers and true to the stories that we’re struggling to tell, that we feel so strongly must be told.

So who guides you on your journey? Who gives you the courage to grapple with the truth in your writing, especially at those times when it’s painful to do so? And what do you do to thank her for her help?

 

Hedgebrook supports visionary women writers whose stories and ideas shape our culture now and for generations to come. The opinions expressed here are not necessarily representative of the opinions of Hedgebrook, its staff or board members.

Dreaming Hedgebrook

By Allison Green

Before I returned to Hedgebrook recently for a brief stay, I had a dream. I arrived to find that the Hedgebrook property was ringed with new buildings. A teaching colleague — it didn’t occur to me to ask why she was working at Hedgebrook — gave me a tour of the dark-panelled bowling alley and the snack bar that smelled of frying oil. She showed me my “cottage,” a dingy brown nylon tent. When I asked its name, she said it was called “Willow,” just like the cottage where I had originally stayed seven years before. Outside the tent, cars in a perpetual traffic jam idled in four lanes.

  Read more

The Story Teller

By Ruth Setton

Every night for the past thousand years, under moon and stars in the Djma el Fnaa, the fabled square of Marrakech, a man tells a story. Wearing a white turban and djellabah, he stands in the center of a circle of people. Wide-eyed and rapt, they lean forward to catch his every word and see his every gesture. He is competing with the human circus in all its barbaric grandeur. Crowds stream past, drums pound, people dance, steam rises from food stalls, beggars wail, the snake charmer lures his six-foot python from a basket, the Berber pharmacist spreads his cures on a blanket, the henna woman tries to embroider your arms and hands with henna scrolls. Surrounding the magic circle of the storyteller are voices, a multitude of voices—beggars, vendors, the muezzin, singers, musicians, snake charmer, the crowd—yet his voice stands out.

I have watched the storyteller for hours as he weaves a web of magic around his audience. You don’t have to understand the language he is speaking to understand the power of story. All you have to do is listen to his voice, watch his eloquent gestures and you find yourself responding to the rhythm of his words, the dramatic pauses, the sense of tension and suspense he creates. Story is the answer and it is also the question.   Read more

Estrogeniously Yours

By Storme Webber

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Estrogenius; a form of brilliance found only in the thoughts and imaginations of women. See: Hedgebrook.

So of course Hedgebrook brought the voices of women to Seattle’s art fest Bumbershoot, bringing five writer/performers (including visionary Director/author Amy Wheeler) to the Words & Ideas stage.

Storme Webber, Karen Finneyfrock, Tara Hardy & Rose Mc Aleese made up the chorus of intertwined and solo voices and it was good.     Read more

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