THREE Write-Alongs! + early-summer whatnot

First, WOW are we overdue for a Write-Along. To get back on track, and because I want to, I’ve decided to offer not one but three Write-Alongs in July. Note that the first is in only two days — let’s be spontaneous!

The dates are:

As a reminder, here’s how a Write-Along works:

• We meet on Zoom. You bring whatever writing tools you like best: a notebook and your preferred pen, your journal, a laptop, etc. Maybe bring a beverage, your dog, or a blanket — hey, bring a friend! All participants will be muted, though the chat feature will be available.

• This is a guided write-along, meaning I’ll give you a prompt at the start of the hour. That said, you’re free to ignore me. You don’t have to use the prompt. You can write, or work on, whatever you like. The idea is just to do it together.

• Write-Alongs are open to all paid subscribers. No need to RSVP.

• This month, we’ll use the same Zoom link for all three sessions, and you can find it at the bottom of the page, below the paywall.

• That’s it! See you soon.

The month of June raced by in a cloud of dust. No idea where it went. Silas said goodbye to middle school, and Ames wrapped up his first (half-)year of preschool. Then I led a five-night writing-and-horseback-riding retreat in Wyoming. To get there, I flew into Billings, Montana. I had a half-day to explore the town, and I decided to spend it wandering downtown, where I found an antique mall, a good yarn shop, and a good bookstore. The public library is stunning, very airy and modern, and as I stood in the entryway, a stranger looked at me, did a double-take, and exclaimed, “Hey, aren’t you the lady who was in jail last night?”

The road from Billings to Hyattville, Wyoming, is mostly flat, mostly sky, and occasionally impeded by cattle. This was my fourth time teaching for Ranchlands, but it was my first time at their Paintrock Canyon Ranch, a surreal landscape of red hills and silver-green sagebrush.

At Ranchlands, they assign you a horse for the whole week, so you get to know one another. Mine was Slick, a Haflinger gelding with the overall look and demeanor of a lifelong surfer. We rode through arroyos, streams, a herd of cattle. His hooves were big as dinner plates and impervious even to prickly pear cactus. When he’d step on a sagebrush, it’d release a little gust of resinous perfume.

Around midday, we’d stop to write in the shade of a cottonwood grove. At night, we slept in white canvas-walled tents.

We did a bunch of things that, were I merely reading this paragraph instead of typing it, would induce in me such white-hot envy-slash-loathing that I would have to click away. Ha ha?

If it makes you/me feel better, there was no electricity. There were solar lanterns along the footpaths at night, and water for washing was heated in a steel barrel set over a fire. We had Paintrock Creek, swollen with snowmelt, for a white noise machine.

At some point, I had to go home, and I guess that was okay. Silas carved a watermelon for Summerween. Ash accidentally carved two of their fingers with a reciprocating saw. (They’re alright!) And after eight months as a one-car family,1 we finally accepted that we need a second car. To celebrate, we spent five hours last Friday at a Hyundai dealership, fending off upsells in various guises, before driving away in a blue SUV that Ames has wishfully named “Sally Blue Car,” after the Porsche 911 Carrera in Cars. Recently, he also pointed to a silver Toyota Camry in a grocery store parking lot and breathed, “Look, Mama, a RACECAR!” May you, too, greet each day with the delusional vision of a three-year-old.

Thank you, always, for reading — and don’t forget to hop below the paywall for a Zoom link for this month’s Write-Alongs,

M.