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Susan Wingate Visits with Dana Stabenow on Between the Lines | Blog Talk Radio


Writer Dana Stabenow Launches Campaign to Build Storyknife Retreat in Homer – Alaska Business Monthly

A few words from Storyknife’s Inaugural Fellow – Kim Steutermann Rogers

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Photo by Michael Armstrong for the Homer News

Photo by Michael Armstrong for the Homer News

She’d already given me a brief tour of Frederica cabin. Brief because the cabin is perfectly sized small. Brief because I sensed she did not want to intrude on what would be my writing space and home for the next month. Brief because I sensed something else going on. As she walked out the door and down the few steps to the gravel drive, author Dana Stabenow paused and said to me, “You’re a dream come true.”

Then, quickly, she turned and walked off, head down as if bracing for a stiff wind or readying for an overhead wave about to collide with the fishing boat on which she’d grown up. Or, maybe, simply to hide a big grin on her face.

Across the Cook Inlet, Mts. Douglas, Augustine, Iliamna, and Redoubt radiated in the dwindling Fall light.

I’ve been home a week now, and I still think about Dana’s words. In that moment, I understood the import of my arrival in Homer, Alaska. Sure, I’d been awarded a place to write; a place to sit and read; a place to photograph, if I chose. I’d been given a place with no expectations. No deadlines. No responsibilities. No requirements. But more than that, as the inaugural fellow of the great effort known as Storyknife Writers Retreat, I was given the opportunity to be someone else’s dream come true.

I didn’t expect that.

We’ve all heard the words before: You’re a dream come true. I may have said them this week at the post office as I juggled a couple boxes, a stack of mail, and a dog on a leash when a stranger saw my predicament and opened the door for me.

But this was different. Dana’s words had weight. They weren’t an exaggeration or a cliché. I understood in a new way my arrival at Storyknife. My very presence in Homer was the manifestation of an idea to provide women a place to write.

I was thinking about Dana’s words when I returned inside Frederica cabin to get settled. I unpacked my suitcase. I set out a box of books on my desk. Then, I unloaded some groceries I’d picked up on my five-hour drive down the spine of the Kenai Peninsula. Stashing cold goods in the refrigerator, I paused to take in a photograph hanging on the wall. The setting looked familiar, but the print was aged, making me think it had been made back in film days. I would examine that photograph many times as I stood scrambling eggs over a hotplate or awaiting water to boil for tea. But it wasn’t until my last night in Frederica cabin that I asked Dana about it. And, then, it was one of those I-shoulda-had-a-V-8 moments.

Because just like I’d suspected, the captured image hanging on the wall of a cabin in Homer, Alaska was taken in Hawai‘i. And not just any place in Hawai‘i. But a scenic view of Kaua‘i, the island on which I live. Of all the women from around the world who applied to be Storyknife’s inaugural fellow, the chosen one—me—would fly nearly eight hours and drive another five to find a photograph of a scene from practically her backyard.

There’s much I want to say about Alaska. I witnessed the moon come into its fullness—a harvest moon, super moon, and eclipse rolled into one. I watched fog roll in off the Pacific and erase my view of four volcanoes. I took note as clouds stretched like taffy and galloped like stallions and scowled like a mama bear in the woods, all in the course of a single afternoon. I ran outside when I heard the creaky hinged call of Sandhill cranes flying overhead. I felt spit drop from the sky as if it were a bed sheet hanging on clothes line and the wind were whipping remnant water droplets out of it. I remarked over trees throwing a dance party on their top floors. I grabbed my camera to capture an image of a young moose trotting through the yard, fifty feet from my desk. I woke in the middle of the night as green curtains of light billowed across the sky. I learned that when it’s foggy atop the bluff at Storyknife the sun is shining on the Homer Spit. I understood the saying, “When the fireweed goes to cotton, summer’s soon forgotten.” And I added interesting words to my lexicon, including termination dust, spit rats, and buttwhackers.

There’s much I want to say about my experience at Storyknife. The logjam of a story I’d been holding within me for more than 10 years loosened, each log more or less finding its place in alignment. At least, for now. I discovered that a writing space free of physical distractions also brought with it a head space free of mental distractions, allowing me to stay in my right brain, the creative side, for long stretches of time.

When I told a friend I was going to Alaska to write, his reaction was, “You can’t write in Hawai‘i?” And I was reminded how we live in a left-brain world. That is, a society dominated by analytical and logical thinking. Like his. Creativity, however, emanates from the right side of the brain. To use a popular metaphor—one that left-brainers can grok—what Storyknife offered me was an entre into what athlete’s call, “the zone.”

This became evident to me when I received a couple phone calls and emails that about wrecked my zone. It were as if my right brain of a mouse was happily going about its business, exploring the nooks and crannies of my subconscious, working behind the scenes, conjuring a crumb of an idea here and there when—WHAM—the mouse trap slammed shut with the arrival of an email from a magazine editor wanting some additional reporting made to a story I’d filed weeks prior. Or the rental car company called wanting me to “drop off” my car in exchange for another. “You want me to drive five hours—each way—to swap cars?”

It can take hours to wriggle out of the mousetrap and carry on. This became clear to me at Storyknife. Even with a few disruptions, I managed to stay in the zone long enough to produce 249 pages of a first draft of a manuscript, about three-quarters of a book.

There’s something else I want to say about my experience at Storyknife. Something else unexpected came with the distraction-free writing space. It was a sense of importance. There is no greater motivator in life than when someone says, “Good job.” Being awarded the one-month residency at Storyknife was like one super-sized pat on the back. I’d never before felt so recognized for my writing. It was a warm feeling, one that hung around me for days.

I also admit: There were times during my time in Frederica cabin when I fell into imposter syndrome—a feeling that my writing didn’t matter. That no one would be interested in it. But there was really nothing else for me to do, so I kept writing. Besides, Storyknife believed in me. The weight of Dana’s words propelled me forward.

Now that I am home, as I ease back into my every day life and our left-brain world, I want to play my part in seeing this dream continue. One way to do that, I realize is to continue writing, to finish my book. I may have cleared out of Frederica cabin at the end of September, but I carried Storyknife home with me. There may be a photograph of Kaua‘i in a cabin in Alaska, and now there is a photograph—many of them—of Alaska on the walls of my home and in my heart here on Kaua‘i.


Rise Up!

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riseup

We are excited and honored to report that three of Storyknife’s six cabins have been named by the following generous donors:

  • Arliss Sturgulewski, who will be naming her cabin for her daughter-in-law, Carol.
  • Jeannie Penney, who will be naming her cabin for her mother, Betty Rice.
  • Cathy Rasmuson, who will be naming her cabin for Halibut Cove artist Diana Tillion.

Each cabin will have a photograph and biography of the woman whose name it bears. Dana Stabenow says, “Cathy Rasmuson is threatening to decorate her cabin with art by its namesake so we’re expecting competition among writers for Diana Cabin to be fierce.” We are so proud to have the support of these amazing donors, exemplars of how large-hearted and visionary Alaskan women can be.

There are an additional three cabins still available for sponsorship as well as other opportunities to honor an important woman in your life.

In equally exciting news, on November 14 we started a fundraiser to build the main house of Storyknife and dedicate it to Eva Saulitis. That fundraiser will continue until February 14, 2017, and during that time each dollar donated will be matched 2-for-1 by Peggy Shumaker and Joe Usibelli. Right now, $18,510 has been donated in Eva’s name. Our matching donors will turn that into $55,530. That’s right, in one month, we’re a fifth of the way there. To all of you who have donated thus far, thank you for your vision and your generosity.

Remember we only have until February 14th to meet Joe and Peggy’s most generous matching grant, so we need to reach out to everyone who knew Eva and wants memorialize her giving spirit. Please consider donating either through the Generosity site or by check (Storyknife, PO Box 75, Homer, Alaska, 99603).

Finally, we have just opened the application period for the four Storyknife Writers Retreat residencies available in 2017. From now until January 27, we are taking submissions. I know that people are excited, because in fewer than twelve hours, we already have two submitted applications. And considering that most of those twelve hours started at midnight on December 15, that’s pretty amazing!

Here at Storyknife, we believe that women’s stories matter. The opportunity to devote her unbroken time and attention will not only enrich the writer, but add to the wisdom of the whole world. Rise up, women writers and write the stories and poetry that are inside you! 
submit


What a difference…

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Five cozy throws knit by Dana Stabenow and one given by wonderful benefactor Cathy Rasmuson.

….a month makes. Just last month at this time, we were planning the April residencies and hearing a little about a virus that was spreading overseas. Now, we find ourselves postponing the April residency and our planned Grand Opening ceremony. We are still preparing Storyknife for the residents that we’ve scheduled this year. We’re watching things very closely and as soon as it is safe to travel, we’ll start the residency season.

One of the March festivities that was called off in Homer was the Celebration of Lifelong Learning, an event held each year by the Friends of the Homer Public Library. This year would have seen the first time the Sue Gibson Award was bestowed to the inaugural recipient, Dana Stabenow! So instead of a fancy shindig, the award was presented on Homer’s wonderful public radio station, KBBI 890AM. We’d like to take this opportunity to share the remarks that were made with all of you. When the link for the actual recording is posted, we’ll be sure to add it to this post and share it on social media.


Erin’s Introduction:
I’m Erin Hollowell, the executive director of Storyknife Writers Retreat. It’s my pleasure and privilege to introduce Dana Stabenow, extraordinary novelist, founder and board president of Storyknife Writers Retreat, and winner of the first Sue Gibson Community Achievement Award which recognizes individuals who have invested in and created an institution that empowers learning, reflection and creativity.

I’ve been working with Dana for close to four years now on her vision of Storyknife Writers Retreat – a writers residency that provides women the time and space to focus on their own work. Dana’s vision of fostering women writers in the way that a residency at Hedgebrook fostered her close to thirty years ago has never wavered in all that time (and indeed long before I came on board). Storyknife will stand as a lasting example of her dedication to creating the kid of community that doesn’t end when the writers return home after the two to four week residency. They will form bonds that will hold throughout their lifetimes and they will open the doors of opportunity for each other.

Dana has been steadfast in aiming for diversity in background, age, genre, and experience, so that each month at Storyknife will bring together a variety of individuals that is rich and sustaining. She has emulated Hedgebrook’s “radical hospitality” so that every writer at Storyknife will understand that she and her work matter. Storyknife will not just enrich the community of Homer, not just enrich the women who attend residencies, but continue to enrich readers as important work from women writers comes into the world and finds its readers.


Dana’s Remarks:
My very first memory is of my mother’s forefinger slowly skimming beneath the words, “Once upon a time, in a faraway land, lived a beautiful princess named Snow White.  She had skin as white as snow, lips as red as blood, and hair as black as ebony.” The truth is, I don’t ever remember learning to read. I can only remember always knowing how.

David Owen, from his book The First National Bank of Dad, writes,
“Children who are read to regularly from early ages develop lifelong skills that can’t be acquired from a VCR or the Disney Channel.  They become better listeners and find it easier to pay attention in school.  Their vocabularies grow rapidly, and grammar seems less mysterious to them.  They don’t immediately lose interest in any idea that is harder to grasp than a television commercial.  They  develop the patience to follow a complex problem to its solution.  They become better writers all by themselves, through their ample powers of imitation.
            …Good readers do better in school, score higher on standardized tests…attend better colleges, hold more interesting jobs, write more persuasive legal briefs, make better conversation, and become less and less likely to gripe about being bored…
            Most of all, children who grow up immersed in books develop the ability to answer their own questions….Gradually, they acquire a skill shared by the greatest scholars in the world:  the ability to educate themselves…”

So, I learned to read pretty much by osmosis sitting on my mom’s lap. And then, when I was about 8 my mom took me down to the Seldovia Public Library, at that pre-earthquake time one room in the basement of city hall. The founder and eternal flame of the library was Susan Bloch English. She looked at me over the tops of her glasses and said to my mom, “Well, Joan, let’s start her on some Nancy Drew.” I never looked back.

I can’t conceive of a world without books. Enough of them can’t be written. Storyknife is a place where more will be.

Among other authors I was once solicited for a tag line for a T-shirt that was made to celebrate libraries. This is what I came up with: “Libraries are what keep us a step ahead of the apes.”

It makes people laugh when I say it now, but it also has the virtue of being the absolute truth. I still have the T-shirt and I plan on being cremated in it.

To be honored in this fashion by my very own local public library is the highest honor I could ever achieve. Thank you so much.


Please everyone stay safe. Maintaining social distance will be the best way to fight this thing. Do we dare suggest that this would be an excellent time to catch up on your reading and writing? Hang in there. Be kind to everyone, including yourself! 

take care,
Erin Hollowell
Executive Director, Storyknife





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