memoir

It’s my last day in Mexico and we’re heading back to San Miguel. We passed once again through Tzintzantzun. We drove through the wonderful gauntlet of huge statues, past the town market, and there the carnival we’d seem disembodied on the road day after day. Now it was all set up and ready for children:

I woke up before dawn this morning, quietly dressed, and went out for an early morning walk. The air was bracing and I was glad I’d pulled on my fleece. I headed off, thinking I’d walk as far as I could in a single direction so that I wouldn’t get lost. After a couple of

As we wandered around Pátzcuaro this morning, doing a little shopping, we came across this storefront. Apparently, even AA obeys the rules of signage in this colonial town: “Once,” Suzy told me as we walked, “I was in Oaxaca and I came across the national headquarters of ‘Neuroticos Anonimos.’ Now that’s a 12-step program we

Breakfast at La Casa Encantada was served at a wide wooden communal table with beautiful place settings, hot coffee or tea, freshly cut fruit salad, three choices of eggs cooked to order, beans and toast. It was a pleasure to get to know some of our fellow guests, the food was delicious, and everywhere I

I really wanted to sleep in this morning. I was dreaming of ten hours of sleep and not opening my eyes until 9 AM, but at 5:30 I was wide awake. I guess there’s still a lot of adrenaline coursing through my body from being on performance mode at the conference. It was still completely

At the end of last year’s writer’s conference, I spent one night with my friends Richard and Suzy before flying home, and that night we cooked up the idea of going on a little road trip at the end of this year’s conference. It’s demoralizing to work so hard and be so exhausted only to

I’m sitting in a big white tent with a floor of green grass, looking out at eight rectangular tables, set in rows, full of 22 of my students. I’m teaching my last class of the conference, on “The Unusual, Quirky Detail.” Right now, they’re in the middle of a writing exercise in which they make

Since I was a little girl and my parents took me to the sprawling Collingswood auction and flea market on Sunday afternoons, I’ve always loved outdoor markets. I was particularly fascinated by the auctioneer who spoke so fast I could only understand one if ten words he said. And it was all in English. Ever

Some of you may know, from my previous writing, or from being in class with me, that I had an identical twin sister who died when I was a day old. I’ve grieved Vicki all my life and have always had a deep fascination with twins. Last year at the conference in San Miguel, I met a woman who’s almost as

Since the San Miguel Writer’s Conference is a tri-cultural festival, the conference features evening keynotes from authors from the US, Mexico and Canada. This year’s Canadian author was Yann Martel, best known for his bestselling novel, The Life of Pi. The conference brochure described Yann’s talk as follows: “At a time when the arts are

A small snippet from David Whyte’s keynote address about why readers need to live a courageous life: “Writer’s block has to do with the attempt to keep a conversation going long beyond its shelf life.” As an antidote, David suggested the discipline of asking ourselves “beautiful questions,” questions that enable us to have a conversation

The most fun thing about coming to a writer’s conference is not what happens in the officially scheduled sessions, but what happens in the cracks between sessions. There’s the fun of exploring San Miguel, but there’s also the conversations, connections and adventures that happen with fellow participants over meals, while getting lost, while shopping, or

The San Miguel Writer’s conference, in its ninth year, attracts writers from all over Mexico, the United States, Canada, and this year included participants from England, Australia and Morocco. This year, there are 300 full conference attendees, and some of the keynote speakers draw as many as 900 people. There are workshops on everything from