All Good Things...

Must come to an end. But perhaps it's time to think 'what next?'

“You might not write well every day, but you can always edit a bad page. You can’t edit a blank page”. Jodie Picoult

Whilst the days out and the experience of new places, delicious food, good wine etc provided inspiration for our writing, so far there had been limited time for actually getting anything very much down on paper, so an entire day to focus on writing was very welcome. We gathered together on the terrace and Rosie introduced us to a useful technique we could use for editing which we put into practise on a piece of writing we had brought with us. She also spoke at length about the merits of self-publishing over traditional publishing which personally I found quite enlightening. Being completely honest I have always been a bit sniffy about self-publishing and I can put that down to an awful lot (but not all I hasten to add) of self-published books that I have read being not that good. Or at least in want of a good editor. I have always believed that it would be better to have an agent and publisher when writing a book, but I am no longer convinced it is the only route to success, how ever one might wish to measure or define that success.

Rosie in full teaching mode!

Later in the day we convened once more for a speed writing session which proved to be a very effective way of actually getting stuff written. Three chunks of twenty minutes where we did nothing but write with five minute breaks in between to walk about and stretch. What I wrote during that time was in dire need of some judicious editing but in the words of Jodi Picoult “You cannot edit a blank page” and what I hastily scribbled down on those pages proved to be the basis of what I have been writing here on Substack over the past few weeks.

During the afternoon there was plenty of time to chat, sharing ideas and inspiration, and some of the other women were looking through sets of Oracle cards. Again, I will confess my ignorance and admit that in my mind Oracle cards have always equated to Tarot cards which I’ve always thought a bit woo-woo and too bound up with fortune telling and the occult for my liking. As it happens Oracle cards and Tarot cards are similar but whereas Tarot are more structured with established meanings and symbolism, Oracles tend to be more open to interpretation, come in different designs for different occasions and are designed as a tool for intuitive guidance, to help gain clarity of thought and a way to reflect on feelings at a deeper level. But I remained sceptical… I guess I just don’t reflect too deeply on very much.

Illustration: Sharon Blackie

However, being very shallow, what I really liked were the illustrations in one particular set by

Dr Sharon Blackie

, so ignoring the advice to find a quiet place and light a candle my curiosity got the better of me and I picked a card at random, pulling out one marked ‘Labyrinth’ with an illustration of a woman walking around a maze holding a lamp. I looked up the accompanying meaning in the guidebook and read:

“During the middle ages there was a practice of walking labyrinths at Christian sites which became associated with the pilgrimage tradition”

Now call it a coincidence but earlier I had been having a conversation with Sheri about pilgrimages. Sheri has a background in journalism and one of the many interesting things she has done is interview numerous people embarking on the Camino de Santiago about their motivation etc, whilst never wanting to embark on the walk herself. As we chatted I said it was something I would very much like to do one day. Although not religious, I feel it would be an intense spiritual adventure and a challenge that I would like to experience. I’m taking the card as a sign that I should stop talking about wanting to do it and actually put some plans in place before my knees decide otherwise. I tend to forget when I have these grand ideas that I’m not actually getting any younger.

After such an intense day of writing everyone was ready to let their hair down by the evening. The wine flowed more liberally than usual, the laughter was raucous and eventually we were all singing. I’m not sure whose idea it was but we split into two groups for a re-enactment of ‘Summer Lovin’’ from Grease. My side of the table took on the role of the T birds and not content with sitting around the table we arranged ourselves on the steps in the corner of the room to add a more performative element to our singing. I have to tell you the Pink Ladies were laughing so hard at our performance they were unable to sing their half of the duet. There is a video and photographs, but we all agreed what happens in Italy stays in Italy, which is probably for the best! ‘Tell me more…. Tell me more’ Unfortunately not!

I imagine there were a few sore heads in the morning, but everyone was up and ready for our final day out, this time to the town of Assisi a hill town in Umbria, probably best known for being the birthplace of St. Francis. The earliest known settlement in the area was in around 77 AD by the Umbri people, said to be some of the first inhabitants of Italy. The Romans then built a settlement on the site as evidenced by the several Roman ruins. Nowadays it is a place of pilgrimage linked to its most famous son, who was the founder of the Franciscan religious order and along with St Catherine of Siena is one of Italy’s patron saints.

St Francis and the wolf

On the day we visit, Assisi is full of tourists and pilgrims. It attracts thousands of pilgrims every year as evidenced by every other shop being a purveyor of religious tat. The image of the Madonna or St Francis is plastered onto every conceivable surface from plates to key rings, and fridge magnets to Christmas decorations. There are religious images and statues in abundance wherever you turn.

Our minibus drops us at the very top of the hill with the idea it will collect us later at the bottom. On foot, we head down twisting lanes and streets towards the cathedral, The Basilica of St Francis of Assisi. Or at least that is what we think we are doing. There are so many signs for numerous different churches many bearing the name Francis that we wander up and down several dead ends before finally finding the Basilica which is built into the side of a hill and is now a UNESCO World Heritage site. Inside, the vaulted ceiling and many frescos are hugely impressive, but for me I didn’t feel the usual sense of awe I often find inside large churches and I’m not sure why. I followed the line of people down the stairs into the crypt to see the tomb of St Francis, but I continued walking around the large stone structure, past the people kneeling, praying and touching the walls of the tomb. I felt as though I was intruding on a private moment of prayer where I didn’t belong. Maybe I’m not cut out to be a pilgrim after all.

Back outside a few of us went in search of lunch where I ate a bowl of cacio e pepe, a plain dish of just pasta, black pepper and Pecorino cheese that couldn’t be more simple yet utterly delicious.

After more wandering and even some sketching we found ourselves back on the bus heading back to Il Maggese for our last night. The rain that had threatened all day finally arrived in a torrential downpour. Earlier in the day Flavia and Roberto had fired up the woodburning oven ready for our final evening pizza party and they valiantly turned out one delicious pizza after another carrying them under umbrellas through the storm from the stove to the dining room until we could all eat no more.

The mood was good on our final evening but I’m sure we were all trying not to think about it coming to an end. The highs, the lows, the warmth and companionship, the laughter and tears, life was never going to be this intense once we got home, but although I realised I would miss this wonderful group of women, I was also ready to return home to Stewart and my family, some space and a comfortable bed. At heart I’m an introvert which I don’t think I have always appreciated. When I was a lot younger I thought I was merely shy or lacking in confidence. As I’ve grown older I will quite happily stand and perform on stage, give talks about my work to a room full of people, or teach with confidence so I’m definitely not shy, yet within a group of people in a social setting I can often feel myself withdraw. It takes a lot of effort to stay focused and engaged and I notice that it leaves me exhausted. I’m much happier in small groups where I find it easier be myself and to find my voice.

Our writing group with Flavia ad Rosie, and Odin the dog too!

So despite it having been the most amazing experience that I will never forget, I was ready to come home, where I can walk my dog alone and start planning my next solo trip. I’m still considering the possibility of a pilgrimage walk. What do you think?