You know that moment in Star Wars where Obi-Wan Kenobi gets killed and you freak out because Luke’s just lost his mentor and he still is nowhere near where he needs to be, training-wise? That’s kind of where I am right now.
In 2005, I met Jonathan Maberry, who had joined the now-closed Writer’s Room in Doylestown. From that moment on, he has built a wonderful society of writers in the Greater Philadelphia area. Now there is a thriving community, helmed by the Liars Club, that has workshops and networking meetings and just has a generally good time.
I have been a part of an ongoing workshop of Jonathan’s since 2006. Originally called Revise & Sell, it is now known as the Advanced Novel workshop. Basically, all of us in the workshop have novels in some stage of development (but beyond first draft) and are trying to get published. I was one of the original workshop members. Over the years, people have come and gone, but a core group has stayed rock-solid and bonded together. We critique each other’s work when asked. We offer a shoulder to cry on when needed. We discuss problems, both craft and business, that are standing in our way. A group of us formed The Author Chronicles group blog about 3 years ago. Several of us have had short stories published, and one member, Tiffany Schmidt, is now a published novelist with her second book coming out in February!
So when Jonathan told us he was moving to San Diego later this year, it was a bit wrenching—one of the main pillars of my writing life was disappearing. We had what is likely to be our last in-person class last week, which was a weird feeling of endings and beginnings all mixed into one.
Last in-person class. Photo courtesy of Tiffany Schmidt
But the thing is, just like Luke Skywalker, we aren’t really losing Jonathan at all. Technology today has made it possible for us to continue this workshop virtually, through Skype. I am looking forward to keeping up the forward momentum we have built together. Although conversing with a flickering, pixelated mentor is a little too sci-fi even for me! But maybe we’ll get lucky and the Force will be with all of us.
I wish Jonathan all the best in his new adventures out in California. The man is a force of nature; I have no doubt he will do well. And I’m glad that technology will allow us to stay in touch as a class, because I get quite an energy boost from our meetings—and I think there are good things ahead for all of us. I want to be there to cheer the others on and celebrate when they get their big break. We’ve all done the hard work—but it’s with Jonathan’s guidance that we’ve come as far as we have.
So, thank you, Jonathan. It’s the end of an era—but the beginning of a new one. I can’t wait to see what new opportunities the new era brings.
Have you ever had a writing mentor?
Books and Community
Books are magic.
This childhood belief is still with me today. And since books are found in the library, libraries are magic, too. At the main branch of my hometown library, I would trot down those white steps to the Children’s section, where they had all these books JUST FOR ME.
When I was a little older, I would ride my bike to the local library branch. It was only as big as two and a half garages, but I loved going in there. It was intimate and I knew where all my favorite books lived, which only reinforced the feeling that IT WAS MINE. My Camp Fire Girl troop decorated it for Christmas every year, and that bolstered this feeling of possession.
Even in college, when the library was on a much grander scale, I would walk though the doors and a peace would settle on me. The library calmed me, sheltered me, and educated me. I felt, in a word, WELCOME.
Libraries have always evoked a sense of belonging. That they belonged to you and you somehow belonged to them. Before the Internet, I spent hours there, as did my peers. Libraries were a community hub, and even today they reach out to the community in various ways and try to fill the needs of their patrons.
When I lived in Chincoteague, VA, last year, one of the first community events I attended was the dedication of the new wing of the library. My baby girl and I were frequent visitors there, always welcomed warmly into the beautiful children’s room the addition housed. That gorgeous addition, built to echo a lighthouse, was the direct result of years of support and fundraising from the local island community.
So for me, books and community have always gone together. Independent bookstores, too, have always evoked this feeling in me. I think that what makes most indies comfortable to me is their size, which is usually on the smaller end of the retail scale. They are eminently browseable, and permeated with the love of books. And so many of them are active supporters of their local communities, as well as hosting book-related groups and author appearances within their walls.
Even though I am a book-lover from way back, when I first heard about the Collingswood Book Festival from author friends Keith Strunk and Marie Lamba, I had my doubts about going. What could a sprawling 6-block bookfest offer to someone like me – shy, easily overwhelmed in crowds, and toting a toddler? Wouldn’t it just feel like a huge garage sale? But I decided to go to support my friends and their fellow Liars Club members Merry Jones, Gregory Frost, Kelly Simmons, Solomon Jones, and Keith DeCandido.
I loved it.
It was book overload, but in a great way. I could have spent the entire day there, browsing, listening to panels, and just enjoying the community. Did I say community? Yes, I did. The Collingswood Book Festival was a community affair through and through, with kid-oriented LoompaLand as well as music and the usual fest-type foods. Unfortunately, I could only stay a short time because of my toddler, but I will be back next year, hopefully toddler-free, to browse the day away. For another view of the Book Festival (with pictures!), visit my friend J. Thomas Ross’ blog.
Books can transport you to faraway places—and they can bring local communities closer together.
Books are magic.