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Susan Dixon

I have taught writing in classrooms for decades, mentored beginning writers, and supported stalled writers in finishing their project. I write both non-fiction and fiction and participate in three writing groups. I am always on the lookout for new writers who just need to know they have a story and that their story is worth telling.

COZY WRITING

Winter At-Home Writers Retreats
Whether it’s a work-in-progress, or big plans, or an idea in the back of your head, winter, after the holidays, is a wonderful time to write.

Getting out of town in winter weather is always a risk, though.

Turn your own home into a retreat space, set your own goal, ask for as much accountability (or freedom) as you want, meet other writers virtually (I know we are all sick of Zoom, but it does have its uses), and celebrate your achievement.

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January Writing

Two years ago I decided to do a self-guided writing retreat in the off-season at an artist residency center. My own space, my own time, alone, just me and my writing. I didn’t even want to negotiate the shared kitchen so I spent an enormous amount of prep time acquiring a small electric kettle, camp plates and cups, crackers, cheese, dehydrated soups, and some lovely patés.

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Winter Solstice

Dorie Greenspan has a classic recipe for the perfect cookie that she got from Pierre Hermé. It’s basically a French sablé but like an American chocolate chip cookie, it is made with both white and brown sugar. It’s got cocoa and chocolate and butter and salt and that wonderful sandy sablé texture. It’s so perfect it got nicknamed the World Peace Cookie because clearly if everyone ate it, they would be too content to argue.

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Advent 2023

As soon as we arrived in St. Petersburg, Florida, in the early 60s, my parents went “church shopping,” visiting Methodist churches one after another. Things went awry every time. One church didn’t have a Sunday School. The minister at another told newcomers to stand up and he commented on one woman’s ‘lovely hat.’ The final straw was the church that gave out Green Stamps to those attending. (Who remembers Green Stamps?) My parents, though both had deep ties to the Methodist Church, became Episcopalian.

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Still, the journey

The last three times I have traveled it was to Vietnam. I prepared in all the usual ways—passport, suitcase organization, contingency plans—and I used Rosetta Stone and/or Duolingo to study the language. I had no illusions that I would be able to speak Vietnamese, I just wanted to have a clue, a bit of something to hold onto.

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The POW-MIA Metaphor

My writing group, The Pen and the Sword, considers topics related to any war, but the Vietnam War in particular. Our theme at the moment is After War—the ways in which cultures, communities, individuals leave war behind and transition to peace time. We are discovering, of course, the numerous ways in which war is not left behind, but continues to play a shadow role in decision-making, motivations, and anxieties. With this in mind, then, we wrote about what we remembered (Googling not allowed) about the POW-MIA phenomenon. The following was my response.

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A Place for Interesting Things

I used to think, because this is how I was trained—in high school, in college, in grad school, in life—that I had to have a Theme. If I wanted to host a blog/website/discussion/writing space, it had to have a Focus, a Purpose. I had to stick to a topic so readers or potential writers would know what the space was all about, what I was up to, and how they fit in. I wasted a lot of years thinking this way.

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… After All These Years

You’d think, after giving it more than 50 years, that we, the Vietnam War Generation, would have managed to make some sense of it. Fifty years worth of education, life experience, technical skill, hobbies, travel, social engagement—all those things that add value to lives and dimension to brains—would have given us some distance, some ability to put our experience into the context of world history and allow us to say something insightful. Wise, even. At the very least, not a cliché.

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A scene that (probably) won’t make it into the book

“And what did Catarine say to you?”

“I don’t remember clearly …”

“Because she never makes much sense,” Cristophe interrupted.

“Something about someone who knew me and would teach me. She acted like she already knew who I was. Marie Villiers said I was to pay no attention to her.”

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