KaBooM WritersKaBooM Writers

Welcome to the online presence of KaBooM, a writing group that has sustained the creative lives of a diverse group of women for over a decade. We hope that getting to know us will inspire you, too!Welcome to the online presence of KaBooM, a writing group that has sustained the creative lives of a diverse group of women for over a decade. We hope that getting to know us will inspire you, too!

Welcome to the online presence of KaBooM, a writing group that has sustained the creative lives of a diverse group of women for over a decade. We hope that getting to know us will inspire you, too!


The KaBooM Writers Notebook: Our Blog

Try This! At the Saturday February 27 Writing Retreat!

How easy to love a word like retreat that lives in the world both as action and as thing! How fortunate to look forward to a day of renewal in the company of like-minded individuals! How important this time we take for our work and our writing selves!

Join members of KaBooM on February 27 from 10 am to 4 pm at the Carnegie Center for a “Saturday Writing Retreat: Try This!” We’re assuming that it’s your dream—as well as ours—to have an entire day without agenda or distraction—to have nothing to do but write, write, write.  Bring work in progress or a notebook and pen to capture new words. We’ll present invitations to write from our book, When the Bough Breaks, or you are welcome to develop or extend a piece you’ve already begun.

If you prefer working on a laptop, bring a flash drive as you’ll have access to a printer. Maximize your writing time by bringing a brown bag lunch. Day also includes time for sharing and responding.

The cost for the retreat is $100. Our goal is to make sure your well as a writer is replenished many times over, your store of words restocked and ready to go. We look forward to retreating with you!

Comments (1) — Categorized under: Creativity,Events,Jan Isenhour

Clearing the way for discovery

As I write uncharacteristic weather is demanding energy and attention and this morning while I shoveled drive and walks yet again, my mind turned mildly allegorical.  Born in Canada and sojourning in a half dozen different climatic zones, I’ve developed a discipline towards snow removal that, on reflection, serves me well when I apply it to my writing work.

As soon as conditions permit, I clear what’s on the ground: this causes my children, raised in Kentucky, no end of bafflement.  “Why bother?” they demand (hoping to dissuade me from insisting on their involvement in my odd behavior).  Because they asked, I delight in pointing out the advantages of my method.

Doing the work immediately means I get a sense of conditions “in the field.”  I know how the wind feels, I see up close what kind of snow this is.  Once I’m out, I notice details I’d never have seen from the window or on a quick scurry from warm house to car—the weather ceases to be just the stuff I have to slog through, and begins to present unique joys (this morning’s dusting, for example, had those large crystals that reflected jeweled light).

In addition, keeping up with the task means it’s rarely overwhelming: I live in Central Kentucky where the snowfall is never heavy.  Though my back and knees could never handle a deep snow, regular moderate effort serves me well here.

In fact, there are unexpected surprise benefits for my having simply done the work.  Yesterday, though the temperature never officially rose above freezing, the simple act of clearing what was on the ground meant that the day’s light reflected off the surrounding banks of snow and heated up the exposed drive and walks, so that by the day’s end everything was completely clear, down to the pavement.   Oh, sure, it snowed again last night, but this morning there was no accumulated, hard-packed neglect that threatens underneath this morning’s small collection.  In past snows, I’ve seen neighbors hacking away at dangerous ice once things begin to melt; our regular effort means our small plot harbors no hazards that demand such hard labor.

The analogy breaks down, of course, at many levels.  But I’m reminded that regular attention to the writing prevents despair and the feeling of defeat, and leaves the way clear for inspired discoveries to shine unencumbered.

Where Preparation Ends and Real Learning Begins

Members of KaBooM enjoyed a lively session during LexArt’s Arts Showcase Weekend on Saturday. We talked about forming and sustaining a writing group, setting goals, writing grant proposals, and taking on a publishing project. The group of hardy souls who braved a wintry morning asked smart questions and brought great energy to the discussion. We had a wonderful time!

Yet amidst the rich conversation and advice about starting something new, a companion idea pulled up a chair.

No matter how carefully we plan, a new project means acting before we fully know what we’re doing. It’s wise to gather information and plan carefully, but preparing to launch something new is not the same as learning how to do it. That happens only when we take the plunge.

There’s a limit to what we can anticipate. Situations we don’t expect will arise, surprises good and bad will appear, and we can’t iron out all the details before we begin. This isn’t exactly a revelation, but it’s easy to lose sight of when we’re doing all we can to prepare for a new endeavor.

The intention to bring something new into the world entails meeting its unknown challenges, whatever they will be. Perhaps the best advice is to have a support system of insightful people who care about the outcome. A group of friends to help deal with the obstacles keeps us moving down the road.