By Veronica Polanco
A month after attending the Dominican Writers Association 2024 Retreat, I’m still feeling inspired and energized. The retreat was created to provide a safe way for BIPOC Dominican writers to return to their homeland and literally retreat from the pressures and constant movement of their everyday lives into a world of workshops, free writing, and bonding with other creatives. I applied with community in mind. After feeling isolated these last couple of years, I wanted to immerse myself with other writers. I also wanted exposure to other styles and creative processes.
I arrived at Puerto Plata airport feeling nervous. I hadn’t written in a long time. A wave of self-doubt washed over me as I thought of my relatively short publication list. But DWA creates a learning environment that speaks to my spirit and quickly transforms my anxiety into curiosity. Plus, Angy, founder of DWA, told us to leave our imposters at the door. And so I did.
The workshop facilitators are Dominican writers and makers who awaken my inner child through language that feels like home. Some workshops are taught in Spanish and Spanglish is always acceptable. I saw myself reflected in their reading choices and the pieces they write. Studying Kendrick Lamar’s lyrics in a poetry class? Yes please.
I also met teachers I’ve been following for years in the DWA community, like Alicia Anabel Santos who helped me first claim the word “writer,” and JP Infante who I had taken a workshop with years ago and made me feel enthusiastic about reading aloud again. I even met the author of the book that lived on my coffee table, Lisette Norman, who wrote “Platanos Go With Everything”. These facilitators make up the supportive DWA community that has slowly become smaller over the years.
The workshops covered a vastness of genres such as generative fiction, poetry and picture books. They say often what we resist is what we most need. And staring at the itinerary prior to arriving, I felt most resistant to picture books and most insecure about poetry. I didn’t think picture books applied to me and getting better at poetry felt like an impossible hill to climb. In the end, Lisette’s Norman’s session called “Preservation and Possibilities: Writing Dominican Picture Books” was one of my favorite workshops. Just like Lissette said, “When I write, I hear music,” I realized picture books can heal not only children but also adults with their sing-song language and universal messages. And through a one-off encounter with Maria Carla Picon, I essentially received a 1:1 session on how to create beautiful images with poetry and fall in love with word play.
As writers, we didn’t just learn from the facilitators, we also learned from each other. There were 11 other writers besides myself and I took away something from each of them. One writer, Lewlin, helped me with my struggles around revision. A comic writer, she often shares her drafts with friends before moving to the next draft. She told me, “An idea must touch another mind to live.” I later applied this idea to my own work by sharing a piece with my dad before publishing it. I was amazed by his feedback and the connection it fostered between us. This experience helped me realize that revision can be a source of connection, too. Melanie, a spoken word poet, taught me a valuable lesson in performing. She asked, “You know how when you’re playing Sims and you want your character to practice charisma you click on the mirror?” She encouraged us to stand in front of the mirror and practice the facial expressions and postures we adopt when we perform. I initially thought standing in front of the mirror might be narcissistic, but Melanie reminded me it's okay to strive to be a better performer. She helped me realize performing is similar to painting, except we use our bodies as the medium.
Another unique aspect of the retreat is the foundation of spirituality. The retreat began with an opening ceremony where we each shared our intentions after thanking our ancestors who’ve paved the way for us. We built a community altar, adorned with objects that represent pieces of our unique selves. And we created descansos by releasing burdens we felt ready to let go of, at the beach. As someone who believes spirituality is closely tied with creativity, these additions to the itinerary helped my heart feel open and my spirit confident that I would be able to face the triggers that can arise in the creative process. These rituals also helped me understand the other writers better, as each exercise revealed more of the soul of the writer.
The workshops were intentionally structured for us to both learn and actively practice. The retreat ended with an open mic night, where we bravely stepped up to create and share our work in front of our peers and an audience. The open mic was not only about daring to share, but also modeling how to support writers. This support was a theme throughout the retreat. I learned tips like how we can support our community by pre-ordering books. This gesture demonstrates to publishers the existing demand for books by Dominican authors. I also learned the importance of writing reviews after a book's launch because authors need 50-100 reviews following the release date.
The fact that the open mic night took place next to the Patria Libre Bookstore was not lost on me. This bookstore, founded by a granddaughter of one of the revolutionary Mirabal sisters who were silenced for speaking their truth, was a powerful reminder. Through storytelling, we found our voices too.
The organizers also left enough time for us to explore Sosua and Puerto Plata. This exploration was important because before this year, I had only spent my visits with family in Santo Domingo. We massaged clay like our Taino ancestors, we danced salsa on the beach and we bought larimar in the streets of Puerto Plata. Throughout this journey, there were symbols everywhere – symbols we could use in our writing and symbols that helped us develop a deeper understanding of our ancestry.
There was plenty of time to get to know each other as humans. And for play. We had time in the evenings to splash in the pool, interpretive dance by the basketball court, compare our astrological charts and sing at the top of our lungs. We laughed a lot and for many of us, the laughter helped us break through stuck places. And this time was not wasted because as Julia Cameron says, “serious art is born from serious play.” While I rested in these moments, I could feel my subconscious processing a concept we had learned earlier that day in the background.
All of these components created the perfect recipe for giving us a community to continue our creativity. In Dave Bayles’s book “The Art of Fear”, Bayles laments how 98% of art students stop making art after graduation and attributes this drop to the lack of a support system afterwards. “Not many people continue making art when — abruptly — their work is no longer seen, no longer exhibited, no longer commented upon, no longer encouraged. Could you?” Bayles continues with the solution, “A. Operating manual for not quitting. Make friends with others who make art. B. Learn to think of [A], rather than the Museum of Modern Art, as the destination of your work. (Look at it this way: If all goes well, MOMA will eventually come to you.).” This theme of community continued throughout the retreat with many facilitators citing “Community as Rebellion” as a recommended book. Even Flako Jimenez, who incorporated his mom in his one-man-play asked us to consider the question, “How do you bring other people with you?”
Ultimately, I left the retreat feeling more grounded and more confident. I gained tools to use as a writer and creative. Yet the greatest gift was the community of writers that still fill our whatsapp chat with daily messages of support, encouragement and laughter.
*All photos were provided by the author.
Veronica Polanco is a writer, coder, creative and community maker. Her writing has been featured in publications such as The Mujerista, Alegria Publishing, and Mixed Magazine. She contributes to projects with the Dominican Writers Association and is the author of the Substack "To Get To the Mango Tree," where she cultivates a growing readership of over a hundred subscribers.
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