Flying Solo: Reflections from Sirenland Writers Conference
“Are you sure this is your flight?” The gate agent at Heathrow International Airport shot me a look of concern.
“Yes, this is my flight.”I handed him my boarding pass which clearly indicated my intention to fly from London to Rome. I was certain.
He gave the paper a cursory glance, then turned back to his computer. Scroll, scroll, scroll. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but this isn’t your flight. Your flight left an hour ago.”
I looked from his screen to my boarding pass and back again. The two numbers didn’t match. My stomach sank. He was right. In my jet-lagged stupor, I’d honed in on the wrong flight on Heathrow’s insanely confusing departures screen, meandered through the terminal, binged a podcast, and piddled at Pret A Manger, thinking I had time to kill. Meanwhile, my flight took off for Rome without me.
Within a few minutes, the kindly gate agent found a seat for me on the flight and I breathed a shaky sigh of relief. If my husband had been with me, I might have shot him a withering look for not catching my mistake. I might have called the whole snafu his fault. But he wasn’t there. I was traveling alone.
Lesson Number One: Maybe you blame your husband for too many of your own mistakes.
In December of 2019, I was feeling good.
I’d just published my first novel. A famous production company had optioned the book for television. I had an adorable two-year-old son and a supportive, helpful husband, and we were in the process of adopting a second child. Adoptions can take a long time — usually a year or longer. We assumed we wouldn’t hear anything about a match until late 2020, at best. So we celebrated Christmas and prepared to wait.
Earlier that fall, I had appeared on a panel at the Southern Festival of Books, where I met Dani Shapiro, the author of several novels and memoirs, including that year’s smash-hit, Inheritance. The memoir is about her late-in-life discovery that the father who raised her was not, in fact, her biological father. The memoir touched on so many questions I had grappled with, during my own infertility journey, concerning the ethical and moral quandaries that exist (but are often ignored) within the fertility industry. Plus, I had already started working on my next book: a family saga that explores issues of family, identity, and adoption.
The research for my second novel took me down a long rabbit hole of exploration and study about Italy during the fascist era and World War II. I knew in my heart I eventually needed to go to Naples, Italy and possibly Positano, in order to see the places where amain character lived her early life. But how would I possibly do it? Just hop on an airplane and go to Italy?
Lesson Number Two: You really can just hop on an airplane and go to Italy.
I started following Dani on Instagram and soon learned that she, her husband Michael Maren, and writer Hannah Tinti, put on a writing conference called Sirenland that takes place in Positano, Italy, every year. I couldn’t believe my luck — this felt meant to be. So, in the fall of 2019, I threw my name into the proverbial hat. I paid the nominal application fee, sent in a sample of my work-in-progress, and hoped for the best.
And I got in.
Lesson Number Three: Throw your name into more proverbial hats.
But then two insane things happened in quick succession. First, January 2020, we got a call about an adoption “opportunity” — a baby boy, set to be born in three weeks. Patrick and I couldn’t believe it. We’d only just submitted our paperwork. How was it possible that we were already matched, and we’d have a baby in less than a month?
I e-mailed Michael Maren, who organizes the conference, and asked for a deferral. Perhaps I could go to Sirenland in 2021? He graciously agreed.
Then, of course, the thing that everyone knows happened, happened. A strange virus began racing around the globe, filling the hospitals. Sirenland was canceled in 2020. And then, canceled in 2021. Anyone who had been accepted in the last few years was asked to reapply for the 2022 trip. So I reapplied.
And I didn’t get in.
Lesson Number Four: A heart deferred is not a heart denied.
I kept writing. I kept wishing I could find a valid excuse to leave my husband and two children and go to Italy. Were people even allowed to apply to Sirenland a third time? What if I’m just not a good writer?
Then, in October 2022, I attended a reading and signing at Parnassus Books in Nashville for Dani Shapiro’s next book, a novel, Signal Fires. After the signing, I ended up chatting with her husband, Michael. We discussed the long history, the deferral, the adoption. And he asked why I hadn’t applied again. I blinked.
“You should apply again,” he said.
And I did. And I got in.
Lesson Number Five: Persistence is the only talent worth having.
And then I missed my flight.
But I made it — I took the train from Rome, found my way to Naples, spent two nights solo, and walked Via Chiara and Via Toledo with an incredible tour guide named Fiorella. Then I took a car an hour from Naples Positano. The loud, crowded city gave way to the milky hills and blue waters. The Amalfi Coast.
The Conference is held at Le Sirenuse, a hotel with rich literary history, owned by the Sersale family. Antonio and Carla and their two sons open the hotel a week early every year just for this writing conference. The hotel smells sweet and fresh, suffused with a subtle floral perfume. There are lemon trees everywhere and beautiful, custom tile work on the floors. The windows overlook a 11th-century church dome covered with mosaic tiles, and beyond that the vast blue water. There’s a pool and a gym and a steam room and a sauna and a cold plunge and a spa. There’s a five-star restaurant and attentive waiters, ready to bring you exactly what you want to eat for breakfast. Poached eggs? Cappuccino? Right away.
But the real star of this show wasn’t the accommodations. It was the community of writers. Forty writers arrived, like me, ready to participate in a week of learning. This learning took place in workshop sessions, in groups of ten. There were four instructors: Dani Shapiro, Susan Choi, Hannah Tinti, and Jim Shepherd. I was put in Dani Shapiro’s group. Prior to arriving in Italy, we all submitted 20 pages which our group would read in advance.
My 20 pages: the novel’s first two chapters.
It felt vulnerable. It felt scary. I had never let anyone other than my mom read Beyond the Point before I sent the manuscript out to agents. And now, I was letting my favorite living writer of all time see into my draft? What was I thinking?
Lesson Number Six: Let people see your drafts.
As many of you already know, the week in Italy coincided with the Nashville shooting. It ended up being an excruciating time for me to be away from Nashville. My group sat with me as I cried, saw my tears, and made space for grief to invade what was otherwise a magnificent, once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for learning and growth.
Everyone always talks about “both/and.” (When it comes to feelings, either you’re happy or you’re sad— No — You can be “both/and”.) And I certainly was both/and during the week in Italy. I was both overwhelmed with gratitude and grieved to my very core. I was both in awe of the beauty of God’s creation and angered at the mess we’ve made of it.
And in the end, I decided to stay. I decided to stay, and I am so glad that I did, because what I gained from Sirenland were all kinds of lessons that will stick with me for life. A few more for good measure before we close.
Lesson Number Seven: Take a step closer with your prose.
Lesson Number Eight: Notice what you notice. Write down what you do, see, and hear every day.
Lesson Number Nine: Order more food than you need, but less wine than you want.
Lesson Number Ten: Writing doesn’t happen at retreats or conferences. It happens at home, when no one is there to watch or applaud. Keep going anyway.
Recent Favorites
BOOK:
The Hours by Michael Cunningham. This Pulitzer prize winning novel was one that Dani Shapiro recommended I read in order to better study the close third-person POV. It’s a slow start, but I’m about to finish, and I have been amazed at Cunningham’s ability to draw parallels and images together in various characters’ storylines. Gorgeous book.
WATCH:
100-Foot Wave (HBO). I’m a sucker for watching other people do life-threatening sports. This documentary about big wave surfer Garrett McNamara is literally on right now, while I finish this newsletter. Have you seen it?