Why would someone like me—a writing teacher, MFA holder in Creative Nonfiction, and professional writer of more than 25 years—sign up for a weekend writing workshop?

Because sometimes, even the most practiced hands need to put the client work down, leave the house, and write something personal. To be the student, not the editor. To get a little lost, on purpose.

That’s what the Fourth Lake Writing Weekend offered. Hosted by Madison Writers’ Studio, the event brought about 40 writers together for two days of workshops, discussion, and literary camaraderie just a few miles from my home. And still, I booked a room at the Concourse Hotel.

The weekend included four workshops, an open mic at Lake City Books, and a final Q&A panel. But for me, the value lay not just in what was on the schedule, but in the shift in mindset that happens when you choose to step outside your daily life and treat your writing as worthy of that space.

Surprise on the Page

Michelle Wildgen’s opening workshop, “Embracing the Mess,” was just the jolt I needed. We wrote from prompts, then shared to find what she called “hot spots”—lines where you feeel a sizzle of energy. Her prompt was simple: Write about a smell. I rolled my eyes. Then I wrote. And out came something that led me to a fresh take on an old experience, one I thought I’d gnawed all the meat off of decades ago.

That’s the thing about generative workshops. I often doubt the value of what I draft in them. The writing is raw, half-formed. But it’s also where surprise lives. Every once in a while, the results aren’t drivel. A door cracks open and in strolls inspiration.

Susanna Daniel’s “Building Creative Resilience” prompted us to examine the beliefs, habits, and myths that hold us back. What struck me most was the shared honesty in the room. Sometimes it helps just to be reminded that you’re not alone.

Because you’re not. We all need community. I met new writing buddies this weekend, exchanged contact info. There’s comfort in gathering with people who understand the peculiar hope and frustration of the blank page.

Workshops come in different flavors. Generative ones ask you to write; craft or discussion-based ones ask you to think and respond. Deshawn McKinney’s session, “Who Am I Writing For?”, landed somewhere in between. It was my favorite of the weekend—a thoughtful look at how audience shapes writing. Although we ran short on time, I left with questions that I’ll return to as I revise my current work.

Christopher Chambers’ session on fragmented and mosaic writing was more discussion than generative. I like playing with patterns in essays, and this introduced me to yet more ways to build a story.

Staying Onsite, Even in My Own Town

Living in Madison, I could easily have come and gone each day. Instead, I checked into the Concourse and treated the weekend like a true retreat. Just me, my writing tools, and a delightfully air-conditioned respite while the Heat Dome assaulted Madison. The fact I got upgraded to the Governor’s Club didn’t hurt a bit. But even if I’d been in the humblest of rooms, I would still have stayed. Sometimes you need to physically step away from your routine to see your work differently. Even a three-mile separation can feel like a flight away if you give it the right context.

It was, in the end, a kind of MFA cosplay. But it reminded me why I teach, and why I need to grow in my own creative writing, stretching to try new forms. When you see a writing retreat, workshop, or conference that intrigues you–listen to that voice. I predict you’ll be glad you did!

© 2025 Sarah White