In the Company of Writers 2010

Preface

“Before I start, I want to explain...”
Ours was the summer of the preface.

After pouring time and ourselves into a piece of writing, momentarily brushing aside the flakes of insecurity and self-doubt floating around our heads, we had to sit in front of a group of people we barely knew and read it. Aloud. When it came time to open ourselves and share what we wrote, the unassuredness settled heavily, wrapping its arms around our necks to secure its place.

And so we prefaced. We made sure our audience knew we weren’t fooling ourselves into thinking we had written a masterpiece. It was our way of saying, “It’s okay if you think my writing is horrible, I maybe, possibly, do I?, think so, too.” We were bracing ourselves for rejection. For many of us, our writing was personal, sharing things about ourselves we rarely did elsewhere, whether directly through narrative, or more subtly through voice and theme. Writing opens doors to parts of ourselves we sometimes neglect or have a difficult time communicating. We were often accessing our vulnerabilities, and then deepening that by displaying them, naked, to people we’d only just met.

And yet, following these prefaces in which we opened ourselves up more, perhaps, than our stories and poetry themselves, we read. They were masterpieces, not by the standards of publishers and bestseller lists, but for us, the eclectic group of Writing and Writer Teachers of the MBWP 2010 Summer Institute. Author’s Chair awakened something in us, something butterfly-ISH emerging from our pages and mouths. Not only did we revive our writer selves, but something more, something deeper.

It sounds clichéd to say we laughed and cried together. Those words don’t quite evoke the feelings and paint the scene the way only being there can. But we did laugh and cry, every week, often within minutes, moved and entertained by the writings of each other, and by the bonds that were forming.

By the end of the month our prefaces were less insecurity and more trust, an explanation in the way of talking to someone you know well, someone who just gets it. So the preface of this book is not an excuse. It is not a warning that what you are about to read might not be that good. This preface, followed by a glorious collection of our writing, is an exultation. Like peering through the windows of Frances Dodge’s playhouse, consider yourself honored to catch a glimpse into our summer, our group, our writing.