Reflecting on the creation of the Okoboji Writers' Retreat

...starting Sunday

I'm pondering how this happened on the cusp of the third annual Okoboji Writers’ Retreat.

The planning for the first Okoboji Writers’ Retreat began shortly after the COVID-19 vaccine became available. In February of 2021, I started calling friends from my days as a columnist for The Des Moines Register who were now scattered across the country and asked if they’d like to join a writers’ retreat I was considering holding in Okoboji.

We were all sick of being isolated, and our calendars were clear, so almost all said yes. Within a day, I had commitments from the former editor of the Los Angeles Times, the Louisville Courier-Journal, San Bernadino Sun, and several who were either retired or currently working for The Register, including Chuck Offenburger and Rekha Basu, wildly popular columnists each with a distinct following. Before long, we had a quorum and a helluva line-up, with more to come.

I can’t recall how the word spread, but social media was deployed. I had a few hundred subscribers to this then-fledgling Potluck Substack column. My friend Doug Burns had a digital advertising company to supplement his work with the Carroll Times Herald, and a few local stories about the retreat were written. Lakes area realtor Kirk Stauss interviewed me and sent the video to his client base. In that interview, he announced it would be an annual event, to which I said: “Whoa, whoa, whoa!”

By late August of 2021, I realized I had to halt enrollment because we’d reached the capacity of the brand-new Maser Monarch Lodge on Nature Center Road.

This was a two-person operation, with Richard - my captain of industry - on his hands and knees organizing name tags alphabetically the day before it started. I had figured out how to design a website and all the other back-office chores required for event planning. Still, we are truly a mom-and-pop operation.

Fortune smiled down on this event from day one.

The first two people to arrive the morning of the inaugural retreat were Alan Mores, then owner of the newspapers in Harlan, and Susan Patterson Plank, then director of the Iowa Newspaper Association. Susan looked at our registration check-in system and kindly asked: Can I help?

She immediately kicked into gear, and throughout the next three days, Susan and Allan were doing everything from organizing the boxed lunch distribution to hauling trash to the dump. Seriously. Another participant, Mary McCarthy, stepped in to organize a recycling process.

This is the spirit of O.W.R.

Last year, our second one, afterward, participants Barb Royal and Libby Slappey called and offered their organizational skills for this, the third Okoboji Writers’ Retreat. They had ideas about everything, and much of this feedback has been implemented.

This is the spirit of O.W.R.

Last night, Richard and I watched the sunset after a long day of reconciling the attendee list, taking the final (!) iteration of the agenda and speaker bios to the printer, and conversing about what-if disaster planning. The first year, we had about 100; last year, we had about 150; and this year (I’ve been withholding this info from Richard, who worries a lot), we are at 275. This is it. This is as big as we will get. If we keep doing this event - and believe me, there were times these past few weeks when I vowed this would be the last OWR - as long as I’m at the helm, we will have it at Lakeside Labs, the embodiment of the OWR spirit.

About 50% of those attending this year are previous attendees. They will have gold stars on their name badges. About half of our attendees are amateurs. The other half have some degree of professional writing experience.

About 30% of attendees are coming on full or partial scholarships, thanks to those of you who are paid subscribers. Your subscription fees make this possible, and know that these emerging voices enrich the experience for all.

As for our faculty, there are no ‘keynoters’ or ‘headliners.’ Each one brings a rich set of experiences to their workshops and panel discussions. Oh, we have a Pulitzer winner and ‘celebrities’ in this small pond of Iowa, a leader of a national journalism foundation, a former writer for the NYTimes, and a participant who once led an international journalism group. And we have bestselling authors and successful playwrights. But divas and those with big egos are not part of our mix. The context is set early that we are here to serve the participants.

The other intention, from the selection of speakers to having scholarships available, is a commitment to inclusion and diversity. It matters to the fledgling novelist to learn about people who are different. It matters to the nonfiction writer to understand and respect other cultures. If, in three days, we can create new levels of awareness about others, it matters.

I’ll confess something here. A last-minute insistence by an attendee triggered me. She is hearing impaired and wanted microphones set up for panels. Microphones for panels with 30 people? Jeesh. Another unplanned, major expense at the last minute? Mary Swander modeled the behavior I should have had from the beginning and offered to buy a portable sound system. And did. When I realized she was right, I ordered five more for the rooms where panels would be held. We’ll store them for next year or let Lakeside Labs use them for future events.

And, as this participant pointed out, many others will appreciate the accommodation, even if they don’t say anything. She’s right.

Another ah-ha in the spirit of OWR.

When Richard discovered our final head count, he shook his head. A thunderstorm could put us all to the test.

“This could be a disaster,” he said.

I laughed and said: “Look at the bright side. What’s the worst thing that can happen? No one will come back if it’s a disaster, and we’ll get our lives back.”

If you’ve read this far and are attending OWR III, I’m writing this as the Chief Reminding Officer (a term coined by author Patrick Lencioni). Culture trumps everything in organizations, and those who establish and reinforce a spirit of mutual respect, inclusivity, collaboration, and authenticity are attractive to all stakeholders.

This column is a reminder of our cultural objective to create mutual support.

Oh, mistakes will be made. Life happens. We all can choose how we respond. Anger is a choice. Acceptance is a choice. Gratitude is a choice. Ultimately, we are individually responsible for our reactions to life events.

Translation:

• If the bathroom is out of toilet paper, find someone to replace it.

• If it rains, share your umbrella.

• If someone left trash on the ground, pick it up.

• If we run out of food, call local pizza delivery (this should not happen)

I won’t know until I look at the results from OWR III what, if anything, needs to be changed or fixed, but the survey of participants - our report card - will go out after next Wednesday.

Here’s what I have come to understand so far.

People are hungry for non-traditional learning opportunities, held in a wooded, lakeside setting. This out-of-the-box format could produce more global summits, think tanks, and workshops covering all aspects of life and culture.

Look at the following organizations that all began in a conversation: The Aspen Institute, Chautauqua, Burning Man, and Woodstock.

One of our participants just dubbed OWR ‘WORDSTOCK.’

That’s it for column-writing today. Now it’s time to put black circle stickers on name badges for those attending the optional dinner on Monday night at the Pearson Lakes Art Center.

Odds are we will get through the next few days and end on a natural high, Wednesday at noon.

Then, Richard and I will pick up J. Dudley Gilbert, our new 9-week-old puppy and process whether there will be an OWR IV.

Name tags awaiting black dots, J. Dudley Gilbert, pottery bowls for J. Dudley being made by Katy Gammack, and the view of where the hotdog roast will be held Sunday night

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