My dear friend Juliana and I have been friends for upwards of 25 years, but over the last four we’ve become Marco Polo besties — is that a thing? We leave each other a criminal number of messages every week, often from across the world, often about the minutiae of life (should I get bangs?), often while walking down the street, often while hiding from our families, but also about the biggest, hardest things: parenting, marriage, all the existential angst of being our age — but we also talk a lot about the creative process, albeit as different kinds of artists. Juliana is a brilliant, genius choreographer, and while I haven’t been in process with her as a dancer for many decades now, it is from her that I am constantly reminded about the importance of the creative process itself.
I still think about what she said to me years ago — stay on the edge of your understanding. This is something I have mulled over a million times as I write, as I teach. There’s an inherent instability to it: Don’t get too comfortable, don’t get complacent, don’t assume. Don’t get preoccupied with what comes of it all. Stay open to possibility. Just keep reaching —
It’s not that she and I don’t care about the product, we tell each other over these stupid Marcos again and again, it’s that so much of what we are there for — in the dancing, in the writing — is about what’s found by just getting into the muck of the thing, again and again, showing up and being in the body, in the words. It’s not romantic and it’s not beautiful and it’s not always finished. But it is the bulk of being an artist. Her commitment to it helps me stick to it.
I am loathe to make a capitalistic swerve here, but I am constantly trying to figure out how to keep myself writing, how to keep other people writing, how to keep the proverbial floodgates open, to lower the bar enough that we — the collective we, every single one of us who wants to make something in this world — just fucking show up.
For the last two summers, so many of us have found community and cheerleading doing Summer School. But this year, I decided I was so sick of my phone! I hated Instagram! I wanted to see your beautiful faces! I wanted to know that in spite of the fact that my summer will be nuts (I see you out there with your camp spreadsheets), that our family will be on different continents and my kid might not have a lot of camp (help), and that my summer will basically not be mine, I wanted to write anyway. I need to write.
So. I am inviting you to join me in Summer School 2.0, which will last all summer long and will involve a weekly, 75-minute long Zoom gathering, complete with eight poems and prompts.
Yes, I know: you don’t know where you’ll be, every week will be different, it will be unpredictable. The time differences. I know! Me too! But in an effort to wrestle back some Me Time, to put myself first for one lowly hour a week, I am blocking everything else out and will SHOW UP WITH YOU.
You can come every single week! You can come once! (You will get the prompts anyway.) Unlike in former years when you were guaranteed a bunch of quick feedback, the thrust of this summer’s approach is a little different: it’s to get our butts in our chairs for an hour a week to write for ourselves, and in spite of the chaos. Within the chaos! That’s it: knowing others will show up and smile at you and will be working hard alongside you — that’s the fuel. (They will comment on your work at the very end of the summer in a glorious reading.) Keep plugging away at your novel! Write something new! Jot down a poem! Meet some wonderful writers! Cheer each other on! It’ll be casual and loving and committed, just like Summer School 1.0 was, only with your beautiful faces. Join us? All info below.
Sending love,
xox Abby
Show Up: Summer School 2.0
$99. Eight weeks. A commitment to your creative practice.
Welcome back to Abby’s Summer School – but this time it’s not so secret. This time we will finally be (casually) writing together.
Look, I know summer is chaotic: Camp. Vacations. Travel. Family visits. But we all really want to keep writing – me included. This summer, we are getting off our Godforsaken phones. Instead, every week for 8 weeks, you will have a dedicated time and place where you know you will write for 75 minutes. You can bring an independent project, or write from the prompt I offer you at the beginning of our gathering. This is a commitment to showing up – to getting your butt in the chair, which is half the work. This gathering is saying you will do that.
Attendance is not taken, but community is formed. The first 10-15 minutes of class will be a mini lecture/prompt by me (with exciting substitute teachers on two of the weeks), and the remaining 60 minutes you will write with your camera on and mic off. During that time, you can also ask me into a zoom room for advice or one-on-one coaching. Cost is $99 for 8 weeks of commitment to your own writing and creativity.
Who It’s For:
Writers mid-project who need community and accountability to continue the work during the summer months.
New writers who are looking to build a creative writing practice in a loving, low-stakes environment.
If you’ve already taken a class with me — or if you did Summer School in 2022 or 2023 — this is an easy way to keep your writing muscles active.
And if you have been looking at an easy way to try out creative writing? Here is a way to begin, among wonderful people.
You Get:
One poem/prompt a week if you need a jumping off point for your hour of writing
“Office Hours”: You’ll have exclusive access to me in each class if you need to discuss creative, logistical or inspirational snags – I’m here to help!
A commitment to yourself to write every week, all summer long.
Low-stakes commitment: You know you have a space to show up and create, every single week.
A reading at the end of the session with your fellow SHOW UP writers.
Early access to my limited fall classes.
A 10% discount on a 1:1 session with me.
And the most exciting part: You’ll join a community of supportive writers and readers, people who can’t wait to read your work and cheer you on.
How it Works:
Sign up on Corzisio (registration open!!!). Cost $99 for 8 weeks.
Block off Mondays at 10-11:15am PST/1-2:15pm EST from June 24-Aug 12.
Join weekly sessions this summer. As always, the more you come, the more you’ll get out of it. But summer is a nutty time, and we know you’ll have to sometimes miss a session. That’s okay!
Show Up Summer Session will end with a private online reading with our community.
Woohoo! Me too!
I'm in.