April 14th 2026
Dear All,
Sometimes, Life seems more present than Writing, and actual writing takes a back seat. But we remind ourselves that it is still there, waiting, like a patient lover when we’re late for a rendezvous. We hope it’s not thinking of checking its watch and leaving for good.
At this time in Key West, as the blossom gradually fades on the trees and small fruit, cherry-sized mangoes, papaya, bananas, even tiny avocados begin to appear, the season changes and many people leave Key West like the migrating birds, to fly north to their cooler homes. There’s a flurry of departure in the air. Last minute meetings, lunches, dinners are hastily arranged, before the big migration. The streets are already emptier, though the tramp of tourists with drinks in their hands, up and down Duval Street never ends. It’s spring, and there’s spring-cleaning to do, and an urge to de-clutter, scale down, throw out, make space. Our houses need refurbishing – our lives, too.
One remedy to too much distraction from writing is the long-standing meeting of three of us fiction writers at our studios. We meet to read our latest work, discuss plot development, points of view – and yes, eat and drink together too – on Wednesday nights when we are all in town. To read part of a new manuscript aloud to two other writers is to bring it to life in a new way. The words, said aloud, have a different heft. We hear excesses, erase, make notes to polish or simply cut. Since we each know the stories of our new novels, we can discuss characters as if they are old friends. Would he/she really do that? Think that? Say it that way? I hear my friends talk about my characters and realize that for them, as well as for me, they are alive. They matter. They have lives on and off the page. So, my writer friends offer me a critique that isn’t just criticism, but a thoughtful evaluation of what I have written and of the people I have brought into the room with me – my characters. And I hope to do the same for them. It’s a very kind and creative way of nurturing another writer’s vision.
Last week, one of us read a piece written from a male character’s point of view – you could call him the antagonist. It’s a new endeavor for her, in a novel that hitherto had been completely told through the woman protagonist’s eyes. Suddenly the man in the story came to life. He had a life of his own, he had agency – he wasn’t just the projection of someone else’s feelings. This hitherto unlikeable character now had a life that was not limited to the page. We understood him, liked him more – because he had become real, vulnerable in a new way, flawed and human.
I thought: this is what fiction is for. It’s for understanding the other, not just examining ourselves or people like us. It’s for extending our empathy, walking a mile in another’s shoes. Imagining another’s life. The writer John Berger once said “There can never again be a single story.” Every story involves more than one person; we are multiple beings, and we operate in a connected world. Memoir is one person’s story; but I become more and more convinced that the first person – the “I” as I called it when young – risks a dangerous sort of myopia. I want the fiction of the present moment to be inclusive, democratic, as diverse as possible, and as compassionate. A great example of this is “The Loneliness of Sonia and Sunny” by Kiran Desai, which should in my opinion have won last year’s Booker Prize. Do read it, and see.
Meanwhile, our plans for the “Coming to our Senses” retreat in Arles are in place, excursions organized, rooms awaiting the seven creative people who have signed up to come, meals ordered – everything the three of us who imagined this event into being just under a year ago hoped for. We will be focusing on using our senses, feeling our way, and writing from that basic human ability to appreciate and learn from the world around us. Seeing, listening, tasting, smelling, letting in atmosphere, weather, all that has informed us as an evolving species over millennia; connecting with each other in significant ways. I think back to the original meeting Nadine, David and I had in Paris last June, when Nadine suggested the whole idea of this event – and I smile. It’s happening in a month’s time, May 16th, and we have so nearly brought it to vibrant life! What you can imagine can take on a life of its own, and not only in fiction.
Go well, whether you travel or stay at home –
Affectionately, Ros