Sally’s Journal Entry: October 31, 2006

Working with this group of writers has been an inspiring experience. The group is talented and hardworking. Using the new format worked well. During our first workshop, Saturday, September 30, we talked craft for two and a half hours. We skipped the Columbus Day holiday, and first drafts were due to me via email on Tuesday, October 10. A flurry of email to the two workshop groups meant a couple of busy hours for me. We lost only one of our nine writers at the deadline. The eight who remain astounded me with the depth of their writing.

Having four writers in each group was a perfect mix. When I emailed the mss each writer would critique, I attached a guide for critiquing that is based on a guide Rebecca McClanahan used during workshops I spent under her guidance. She graciously allowed me to modify her guide according to my purpose: working with veterans.

On Saturday, October 14, we reconvened at the Beaufort Marine Corps Air Station training building for our second two and a half hour workshop. We broke into our two groups and moved to separate rooms, a move that proved interesting since there is only one of me. Fortunately, David, who also serves as my point of contact at MCCS and has extensively assisted in developing the workshop, was attending his second workshop cycle. He was able to keep one group on track with the workshop process while I began with the other group. As usual, I had written a summary of my suggestions for revision of each piece, and I also provided margin comments on each manuscript.

Rather than speak with the group as each piece was critiqued, I gave my assessment of each piece to the writer without allowing for dialectic. Time constraints forced this method on the group and me. I gave my written summary and ms to each writer when I finished, welcomed email questions on my comments, and reminded each writer that he or she is the final authority on what makes the page. I planned to spend about forty-five minutes with each group – I took a bit longer since each critique is an opportunity to fit in craft talk.

When I moved to the second group, the magic of workshop was already underway. The writers were bonding, they were on their last piece, and everyone was surprised by the depth of comments they received and by the sense of mutuality among the pieces. No one had discussed the work critiqued outside of workshop – that’s one of my rules. I believe in this rule because I know how easily influenced I am by others’ opinions; plus, the work must stand on its own without benefit of the authorial explanations in order for the critique to be afforded the value it must have in this compacted writing course. David had done an outstanding job of guiding his group through the process without me. I sat down and began my critique of each piece.

We finished up by coming together in our big room – a classroom used by colleges and universities to hold on-base courses. We discussed the plan for the next week. Everyone would come together on the third Saturday to hear the writers read their revisions. The third workshop would be the first time the entire group heard everyone’s work. Revisions were to be emailed to me by Thursday. I would not be forwarding them to workshoppers, nor would I provide summary comments on this revision. I did however print the manuscripts, read the changes, and make margin notes.

We reconvened for our third workshop on Saturday, October 21. Our group photo is a record of those present. Vivian was working in Atlanta and so was unable to attend. I sent my comments on her ms via email. That Saturday morning was spent listening to each writer read, followed by a roundtable discussion of the piece, and recommendations for final draft revisions. I was already privy to the connections in the pieces: the hymns, the dreams, the sorrows, the joys. But I do believe others in the group were truly surprised to hear the work of the other half.

Our final Saturday was a celebration of the writers’ accomplishments. Sondra was absent – she and her husband were spending some time in Hawaii. Kathryn was also spending time with her husband – on a cruise. Charlotte was working. As for the rest of us, I for one will remember that Saturday forever as a day when each of us held infinity in the palms of our hands. These moments, captured on a page, pulled from heart, mind, and spirit, often at great expense, are offered to you so that you might share in the voices that emerged from this war veterans’ writing workshop.

David, a veteran of the Cold War and the War on Terror, has written another humorous memoir from his days as a military criminal investigator, featuring a perp he’s named Mogan David. I laughed until I cried each time I heard that name. But seriously, David seems to be developing a subgenre – the military detective memoir.

Jack, a Korean Conflict veteran, has wound past and present into a tribute to those forgotten in this war, too, the Navy. When I first read Jack’s piece, I mentioned that many people seem to remember the Korean Conflict as a ground war. The Navy’s roll in winning that war often goes unmentioned, as does the Navy’s role in the Desert Wars. Jack gives us pause to reflect on how much we really do take for granted.

Vivian has written a memoir about her experience breaking through the glass ceiling of chemical sales two decades ago, a time when “Everyday, I walked through industrial environments in my chlorine-stained jeans, tight golf shirts and steel-toed boots, my hair rolled in a bun and tucked underneath my hard hat.” She writes of the hard times and hard men she encountered, and reflects on what might have been. I know the younger women in the group were nodding their heads as Vivian read from her work. That’s terribly sad in a way.

Sondra has written of a particular time – September 11, 2001. On that day, Sondra, an active duty marine, was away from her normal workplace, out on a duty call, but her youngest child was in daycare, on base, near the Pentagon. Her story presents the human heart in conflict with itself in a fundamental moment – the dilemma of being both mother and warrior.

Kathryn has written a profile of the man she loves, a man, who, upon learning he would probably need a kidney transplant, drove several hours to help a marine returning from Afghanistan. Kathryn’s profile is a testament of love, the kind of love we see too little of in this age.

Cassandra, who is still working on her piece, wrote about the burden of being a military wife, the one left behind to pick up the pieces, pack the bags, and get the family to the airport on time when Dad is away. Her burden is doubled as an officer’s wife, one who must set the example for other spouses. She finds herself in quite a predicament when she arrives in Japan with a carry-on bag full of contraband.

Yvonne has written a moving memoir of loss and hope. Her work is powerful, blessed as she is with naturally poetic language. Despite her losses, she goes on, and the comfort she gives her family is a comfort to me – knowing that someone cares enough to care for the aging veteran.

Charlotte has written a moving account of her experience in a military mortuary in Iraq. I took great comfort from her work, from knowing that our war dead are cared for in a foreign land as we would care for them, our loved ones, if only we could be there with them. Charlotte takes us there.

Yes, this has been an inspiring workshop. These writers have bled words. And, yes, they have captured infinity in the palms of their hands.

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