Fall Writing Workshops Launch TODAY.
A close-up of a hand (mine) holding a tiny heart against a grey, tree-filled sky.
Our fall writing workshops are open for registration today!
These small gatherings are the heart of Firefly — cozy groups, deep writing time, lots of time to share and get feedback. They’re mostly on Zoom this season, but we have some in-person ones too.
Here are three of my personal highlights:
We have a brand new workshop — Short Story in a Weekend for people who want to see what a weekend can really hold.
Getting Out of Our Own Way is back after a long break, for folks who want to explore what makes writing so hard sometimes.
Two affinity-spaces: A version of our popular Life Stories Workshop just for the LGBTQIA+ folks, and our annual full-day in-person retreat for BIPOC.
If you want to hear about research on smiling, the worst line-up of my life, and how it all connects, here we go…
There are line-ups and there are line-ups.
This one was an animal. It was at an airport-adjacent car rental office in Alberta, where I’d just landed with my partner for a week of camping in the mountains to celebrate 15 years together.
It seemed like everything had already gone wrong. Our flight was late departing, then delayed til morning. On our way home the subway was evacuated, landing us on a 2-hour shuttle bus at rush hour with dinosaur-sized backpacks of camping gear making everyone around us grumpy. Our car rental agreement was annulled, which evaporated half the trip budget, and it was raining so hard that the Alberta government recommended everyone stay home the rest of the week.
Approaching the rental office, with no plan except to drive into the mountains and hope the rain stopped long enough to get our tent up, we were not feeling very celebratory.
And then, the line.
This was the kind of line that made people gasp when they saw it, the way I imagine we all would at the Grand Canyon or Victoria Falls. The kind of line that has no beginning or end, just a mass of elbows and irritation. Every time the door opened, the wind would flood in, and everyone would push deeper into the chaos.
I decided to wait in the entrance way vestibule with our gear while Ian wiggled in. I arranged our luggage in the smallest monster I could and tilted my face down toward my phone like everyone else.
Then I remembered something I heard on the airplane.
I’d been listening to an interview with Laurie Santos, a cognitive scientist at Yale who studies well-being. She shared research done at UBC that showed that people in a waiting room without access to their phones spontaneously smile at each other 30% more.
I put my phone down, closed my eyes and breathed into that idea. I could smell rain and wet carpet. I could feel that anxious inner swirl from being in a tiny room packed with strangers. I wondered if I could change that. I looked up, and forced myself to glance at the faces around me.
One woman caught my eye, and before I lost the chance, I smiled. She smiled back, wide and warm. Then I noticed that she had a very small child hugging her leg, and I moved my luggage to make more space for her. She looked up, her eyes like small planets.
Once the change had started, it went fast. A couple was trying to find a phone number for Expedia to cancel their reservation, and I happened to have it. This started a lively conversation among the entranceway-dwellers about all the customer service at Expedia. Everyone wanted to share. A quiet thread of camaraderie wove around us.
When a couple squeezed their way out, heading to pick up their car, I cheered, “You made it! You’re free!” Then the next time, we all did, a few of us lifting our arms up to make an awkward little tunnel for them to pass through.
Neuroscientist Amir Levine calls these SIMIs — Seemingly Insignificant Minor Interactions.
He sees them as building blocks of our senses of safety and belonging, tiny data points that our minds collect, letting us see the world as a place of possibility.
I could feel us all relaxing as we softened into the micro-climate of friendliness we were creating. When new folks came in, their shock would soften when they felt it too. Packs of gum were passed around. Jokes were laughed at longer than they needed to be. We all knew how to be good to each other, we just needed the smallest invitation, and we climbed through.
What does this have to do with writing workshops?
When we step into a writing space, and are asked to do one of the most vulnerable things possible — to share what’s inside of us with, and then to hold and respond to what others share.
If we feel guarded, cautious, or competitive (all natural feelings when we’re vulnerable in a new space), we’ll end up writing to protect ourselves from judgment. We’ll write for the group, not for ourselves. We will be very constricted.
If we feel held, uplifted, and supported, we can do something completely different. We can attune to ourselves. We can experience curiosity and courage. We can write into the biggest question — what do I want to create? And we can start to make that.
If Amir Levine’s research shows that small, positive interactions can rewire our sense of safety in the world, I’m saying that they can also rewire our relationship to our work and our confidence. And, with careful leadership, tone, and boundaries, we can easily create those spaces for each other.
That’s what we’re always working toward in these workshops.
As facilitators, we create little micro-climates away from the harsh winds of the world, where each voice is heard, each vision important. This lets our writers experience the possibility of self-trust, so that they can gather what they need and launch into the stories and projects that excite them most.
Sounds fun? I couldn’t agree more. Here are some ways to work with us this fall…
Fall writing workshops are open for registration today!
We’ve already had to wiggle these around because people on our early bird list filled some of them up, but as of now there’s lots of space.
Please reach out if you have any questions! We got you.
The Big One is open for applications until August 9th.
If you are feeling ready (or almost ready) for a deeper commitment to your writing, we designed this for you.
Nine months with a small group, including 1-on-1 coaching, a full weekend of writing, and weekly or bi-weekly meetings. Delicious.
Reminder: We have an evening upcoming with Brandon Wint.
Tomorrow night (July 29th), Asifa and I will be hosting essayist and poet Brandon Wint to talk about writing through grief and other big feels.
He’ll read an essay, take questions from Asifa, and then lead us all in a write.
Sliding Scale. On Zoom. Tickets here.
And — a poem. Of course.
This beauty by Mark Doty was such a joy to read. Thanks to our new team member Nina for sharing it with me.
Speaking of launching into stories…
We did too. After a long time, Ian wiggled out of the line and everyone cheered and lifted their arms. I said goodbye to all my new friends, as we jumped into a bright blue car and headed for the mountains, right as the sky was starting to clear.
In it with you,
P.S. If you want to look up any of the wonderful people I mentioned above, do! The Laurie Santos interview is here, though it’s no longer free to listen to — now you need a New York Times subscription. But, you can listen to her podcast for free, or take her free course on the science of well-being. The book where Amir Levine presents his SIMI research is here, and there’s a small digestible bite of him talking about SIMIs with Dan Harris here.