Finding the flow at Tremont Writers Conference

I’ve sat here for a while now, struggling without success to find the perfect sentence to start this reflection on my experience at the Tremont Writers Conference this fall, and I can’t help but think about how much more easily the words seemed to flow when I was there, spending my days with other writers in one of the most beautiful places on the planet. This superlative is especially true in late October, when sun-shot autumn leaves turn the forest into a stained-glass cathedral, busy with black bears, birds, and bugs—all looking for a last meal before winter ends the days of plenty.

It was amid this splendor that David Brill, leader of the nonfiction cohort in which I was enrolled, gave our group of five a writing prompt as we sat around a campfire one morning toward the end of the conference. He asked us to reflect on what we’d learned about ourselves during the time allotted each morning to sit outdoors in quiet reflection. I found a comfortable rock along the Middle Prong of the Little River to pen my response, and in about half an hour more than 400 words filled the pages of my well-worn journal.

“On my moss-covered rock, the water’s music in my ears and the dry, earthy smell of autumn crisp in my nose, my mind is sharp, the empty page an invitation,” the entry reads. “I let my pen move across the sheets and find it filled with thoughts I did not know I had.”

That last phrase, about discovering thoughts I did not know I had, could be applied to much of the Tremont Writers Conference experience. Hosted October 23-27 by Smokies Life and Great Smoky Mountains Institute at Tremont on Tremont’s wooded campus, nestled within Great Smoky Mountains National Park, the conference offered a rare opportunity for simultaneous immersion in both nature and the company of other writers.

As lead writer for Smokies Life, I spend much of a typical workweek putting together words about a fascinating array of scientific, cultural, and historical topics, but even this magical opportunity can get bogged down in the day-to-day concerns inherent to any job—looming deadlines, stacking assignments, shifting priorities. Stepping away from that for a few days to focus solely on improving my craft, building bonds with other writers, and celebrating our mutual love of the written word was something special.

At Tremont, after climbing out of my “rustic” dormitory bunkbed each morning and enjoying a generous breakfast in the dining hall, I’d spend half an hour or so at my spot along the river, reading, reflecting, and scribbling a few lines in my journal as the morning sun probed further into the canopy. It was a peaceful time, preparing my mind to be fully present during the next part of the day—a three-hour workshop with Brill and the four other non-fiction writers in my cohort.

In a writing workshop, saws and sanders aren’t the tools at hand. Rather, creation happens through conversation, imagination, and—of course—ever-present carafes of coffee, provided by the caffeine-positive Tremont staff. The poetry and fiction people met separately with their own leaders, Maurice Manning and Monic Ductan, respectively. Brill, Manning, and Ductan are all accomplished writers in their chosen genre, offering each person in their cohort valuable insight and real-world experience to push their writing goals forward.

During each session, we scrutinized the manuscript submissions of one or two members of our cohort. We’d received these manuscripts months before the conference began, along with instructions to read them carefully and jot down feedback to discuss during workshop. Each writer received an hour or more of detailed discussion about their submissions, conversations that often turned up collective insights and suggestions that likely would not have surfaced had we all been working as individuals.

Sending your work out to a group of strangers, especially one empowered with a mandate to search your words for errors and missed opportunities, can be a bit disconcerting. But if it’s the right group of strangers, the risk pays off in building confidence, community, and motivation. This was certainly my experience, and I think my fellow nonfiction writers would agree. Whether we were meeting outside around a fire or on comfy couches indoors, each session felt like a circle of friends working together to make something that was already good the best it could be. Brill served as both teacher and cheerleader, encouraging us to keep putting our words out into the world.

After workshop, it was time for lunch, and then for exploration. Multiple Great Smoky Mountains National Park trails branch out from the Tremont campus, and these paths led to some of the highlights of my week—long conversations under cover of scarlet sourwood and bright yellow hickory, salamander sightings at Spruce Flats Falls, and endless natural history tidbits from the Tremont staff who served as our fearless leaders. Afternoon outings allowed my mind a much-needed rest from the intense focus required for morning workshop, leaving me refreshed and ready for whatever the evening might bring: a delectable spread at Dancing Bear Lodge in Townsend, an open mic night on campus, or readings from our accomplished cohort leaders and poet Frank X Walker, guest author for the week.

This is perhaps an unwise admission, but, while I’d been looking forward to the conference ever since Smokies Life signed me up months beforehand, when the time came to leave for Tremont, I was reluctant to go. Life had been hectic since Hurricane Helene struck my Western North Carolina community on September 27, and I was tired. In that moment, staying among the familiar surroundings of home sounded much more attractive than driving two hours across state lines to spend a week living with people I did not yet know.

But one thing I know about myself is that spending time outdoors always makes it better, no matter what “it” may be. The peak red and gold of autumn coupled with the company of people who, like me, can’t set aside their fascination with the written word, proved a winning combination. I left Tremont more grounded in my identity as a writer and excited to break back into projects I’d let languish far too long.

As it turns out, people who love both writing and outdoors—those are my people.  And as iron sharpens iron, so we sharpened each other.

The next Tremont Writers Conference is scheduled for October 22-26, 2025. Applications open in January 2025. Learn more at writers.gsmit.org.