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How can I even begin to tell you how much I love my work? To say that I have enjoyed each and every person who wrote in my living room, for a day or for three years, would be an understatement. The truth is, that I am in love with each writer precisely because each of these generous, courageous and daring souls has shared with me, and with the other writers in the room, their moments of ecstasy and sorrow. Each of these writers, at their own pace, opened their hearts and minds to the validity of their own memories, feelings and thoughts, as these began to shape themselves into dramatic literature infused with depth and illuminating dimension.
They have done this, in many cases, while moving through fears and blocks, with critical minds righteously offering "good advice", and voices of former teachers and parents and friends reminding them "you have to have it" to be a writer. But they continued to sit there for that hour of writing, "the hour of sorcery" as Isabel Allende calls it, absorbed in their notebooks. All you can hear in the room, in this time, is absolute silence, a stillness like the bottom of the ocean, with only the blessed sounds of pen on paper, the rustle of a page being turned, a cup of tea lifted off the Moroccan table and sipped, - to momentarily interrupt this great silence. And when you see the focused expressions while writing, or the roar of laughter that erupts at times when one is surprised by creative insight, or the cathartic tears that often pore from eyes, you know you're seeing the Great, Creative force in action.
Everything is possible in an environment of love and respect. Everyone is unique and has exceptional stories to tell. Everyone "has it". But, as my meditation teacher Gurumayi Chidvilsanada recently said: "Each of us is where we are today because someone in our past, encouraged us." For many writers ‘The Writing Studio,’ is a place where such encouragement is offered, and granted, unconditionally. I've seen many writers, who before reading their material are nervous, apologizing and justifying and then, as they read, their faces soften and afterwards they say, "Yes, this is quite good, much better than what I thought it was when I wrote it." All of us in the room, sigh in agreement at that moment, for there's great reward in witnessing someone discover his or her power. It's like watching a baby take her first few steps on her own.
In my case I knew both. "What is so special in your life that you want to write a film about it?", one friend asked me when I was a film student in New York. And it was said with such arrogance, it shut me down for many years. "The only reason you made your film is because you had money to do it," another friend suggested. Or when I gave up a successful career in the film industry to start The Writing Studio, many who love me expressed worry. But throughout all this, were other voices: That of my sixth grade art teacher Rivka Most, who said: "I can bet money that you'll be a great artist one day." Every time I visit Tel Aviv, the city I grew up in, I walk by her house where she no longer lives, and I say a silent "thank you", to her. Or Marketa Kimbrell, my directing teacher in film school who said, "You will be a good director one day," her picture is in my bedroom. Or Deena Metzger, a former writing teacher and celebrated novelist, who said: "You're onto something, take yourself seriously as a writer." And now these generous voices are embedded deeply and strengthen me. It is these voices of love, of encouragement, that nourish and drive my writing and love for teaching ‘the art of writing,’ forward.
So this is what happens at ‘The Writing Studio,’ and this is what I have to give to anyone who comes to write here, whether beginning or accomplished writer. An invitation, and a way, to delve into that part of ourselves that is pure, confident, creative, unique, brilliant. And once tapped, the magic of creative writing is so contagious, so infectious, that you want to tap it again and again. And you begin to love yourself and your life, and everything and everyone in it, because it's "such a good story," and only you can write it.