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All photos taken by Charlotte Bell.  If you’d like to see more pictures from the 7th annual San Miguel Writers’ Conference visit our Facebook Fanpage and make sure to click ‘Like.’

www.sanmiguelwritersconference2012.org

Author and San Miguel Writers’ Conference faculty, Kristen Iversen, has a new book set for release on June 5, 2012. If you heard her general session address “The Art of Fact: Weaving Personal Story into Historical Context,” you may be interested in pre-ordering Full Body Burden: Growing Up in the Nuclear Shadow of Rocky Flats. (Pre-ordering insure a discounted price.)

Full Body Burden is a haunting work of narrative nonfiction about a young woman, Kristen Iversen, growing up in a small Colorado town close to Rocky Flats, a secret nuclear weapons plant once designated “the most contaminated site in America.” It’s the story of a childhood and adolescence in the shadow of the Cold War, in a landscape at once startlingly beautiful and—unknown to those who lived there—tainted with invisible yet deadly particles of plutonium.

It’s also a book about the destructive power of secrets—both family and government. Her father’s hidden liquor bottles, the strange cancers in children in the neighborhood, the truth about what was made at Rocky Flats (cleaning supplies, her mother guessed)—best not to inquire too deeply into any of it.

Kristen Iversen is the author of three nonfiction books. Molly Brown: Unraveling the Myth received the Colorado Book Award and the Barbara Sudler Award for Nonfiction. Shadow Boxing: Art and Craft in Creative Nonfiction was the first textbook to cover the major sub-genres of creative nonfiction. Her newest book, Full Body Burden: Growing Up in the Nuclear Shadow of Rocky Flats, has already been chosen by Barnes & Noble for their “Great New Writers” program.

If you’d like to get a taste for Full Body Burden, have a look at Iversen recently published article in the New York Times, “Nuclear Fallout.”

www.sanmiguelwritersconference2012.org

“Without a doubt, the most high quality writers’ conference I have ever attended!  Eloquent and entertaining speakers, informative, relative sessions and a magical location.  Bravo!” Marlinne Cooper Bethlehem, New Hampshire

“I feel like I have earned a degree in Creative Writing and Marketing.  The presenters were credible and gave us a wealth of information.  I can’t wait to register for next year.  Gracias, for an amazing experience.”  Jackie Donnely San Miguel de Allende, Mexico

“I am so happy that Elena Poniatowska was invited to this conference.  It is so important those writers in Mexico know her and her work.  I have an amazing photo of her taken this morning… One of the kitchen servers wanted her autograph but because he was working, he had no paper.  She picked up a plate and wrote a dedication: ‘A Miguel Angel el Corazon de su amiga Elena Poniotowska Amor.’  I think that this little vignette shows the kind of person she is.”  Joanna van der Gracht de Rosodo Merida, Yucotan, Mexico

“If you are a passionate reader this is the literary event for you… it is an opportunity to break bread with the giants.  I was thrilled, moved, inspired, and changed!!  And my god Naomi Wolf was incredible!”  Lynn Morgan  Toronto, Canada

“I’ve been to a lot of conferences and this has been my best experience so far, hands down.  I’ve never felt such a sense of community among writers.  I felt not one bit of the jealousy and competitiveness typical of these kinds of events.  This conference is special” Kelly Daniels, Rock Island, IL USA

“I came to the workshop thinking I wasn’t ‘really’ a writer.  I left knowing I am a writer and I discovered the two focuses I need to pursue in my writing.”  Sylvia Schwartz Hoboken, NJ

“One of the most provocative, mind bending conferences I have ever attended –a true learning environment in a marvelous multicultural environment.” Sher Davidson   Portland, OR

“As a conference director and participant I was impressed with the quality of readings, instruction, organization and participation.  I also made new friends for life and fell in love with San Miguel de Allende” Yvonne Daly, San Francisco/Vermont

“Every writer should have the opportunity that this conference gives.  It’s only 4 days of your life, but you can save 10 years of writing life.” Narissa Ferrei  Philadelphia, PA

“Fascinating people.  Engaging faculty.  Wonderful setting–I’ll be back!!” Grace W.  Stuyvesant, NY

www.sanmiguelwritersconference2012.org

Margaret Atwood, Photo By Charlotte Bell

After attended the 2012 San Miguel Writers’ Conference writer, Kami Kanetsuka, wrote an article for the Bowen Island Undercurrent, a local British Columbia Newspaper. She was nice enough to let us share it with you.

Canada at the Forefront of San Miguel Literary Event

Greetings once more from San Miguel, a heritage town in the heart of Mexico, which overflows with happenings. One weekend it’s the party of the year with the opening of an art gallery/chapel in the garden of two eccentric artists in the country. Then it is a visit of the Buddhist relics which have been traveling the globe since 2001, containing tiny pearl like remnants from enlightened Buddhist masters. It is possible to fill every moment of the day with something of great interest.

I have, however, just participated in what appears to be the most important event of this season — the San Miguel Conference and Literary Festival. This year’s theme, The Creative Crossroads of the Americas, attracted more Mexicans to what is now the largest bilingual literary event of the Americas.

Canada was in the forefront of this festival with the iconic Margaret Atwood as the keynote speaker. She was treated like a VIP when she and her husband Graeme Gibson, another writer, were driven from Mexico City in a Canadian embassy car with the consul, who officially introduced her at the event. At her presentation, some local gringos performed a musical prelude, singing as God’s gardeners, taken from her book The Year of the Flood. Atwood, with her usual wry wit, did not talk much about her latest book, but recalled her early career and what it is like to be a writer. Her wit seemed lost on the three Mexicans sitting next to me wearing their translation paraphernalia, as not a smile crossed their faces.

Elena Poniatowska, Photo by Charlotte Bell

Mexico’s most celebrated and prolific female writer and journalist Elena Poniatowska, now 80 and still going strong, wowed most of the audience. Although descended from Polish and French royalty, she has lived in Mexico since early childhood and writes about some of the most difficult situations. Her event was quite a history lesson and she recalled interviewing some of the greats from the 30s and 40s, including Luis Bunuel the filmmaker and Diego Rivera.

Joy Harjo, a member of the Muscogee Creek Nation represented the U.S. A renowned poet who also performs internationally with her band Arrow Dynamics, she created a dynamic shot of energy.  Hearing all three women on a panel inevitably brought up the connections between the countries and there was discussion about the Alberta oil sands pipeline and the many sacred lands of the Americas it could well potentially destroy. Canada was indeed well represented!

Naomi Wolf, writer and activist, gave and inspiring talk on advocacy writing.  A somewhat different audience appeared in a separate event and showing of the film and talk based on her book ‘The End of America.’  San Miguel members of the Center for Global Justice and Occupy Wall Street shot her several questions and she talked about the importance of continued protest.

For four full days the 500 writers and would-be writers at this literary event attended workshops with editors and writers (there were men presenters also, although fewer.) Now known internationally this conference certainly could not be in a more magical setting.

As I drove away with a friend after the last event, we turned into a narrow street and passed Margaret Atwood and husband walking slowly on the cobble stones, wearing her sensible shoes, as we all have to do in San Miguel.

Kami Kanetsuka is an independent writing and editing professional.  She lives in Canada on Bowen Island, British Columbia.

Author and San Miguel Writers’ Conference faculty, Hollye Dexter, recently wrote “The Magic of San Miguel de Allende” on her blog.  Hollye is the author of Only Good Things and co-editor of the anthology Dancing at the Shame Prom: Sharing the stories that kept us small.

The Magic of San Miguel de Allende

The sun was just rising as we rumbled over dusty desert roads, finally pulling into the historic town of San Miguel de Allende. Uniformed children stood in the hazy fog of dawn, huddled along deserted roadsides, as they waited for the school bus.

The desires of my heart had brought us here. Amy and I had the good fortune to be on staff for the San Miguel Writer’s Conference, teaching writing workshops throughout the week- something I had always loved to do, something I knew I would come back to one day. And now, I felt I was home.

The van rattled down a narrow lane, coming to a stop in front of a rustic wooden door. We rang the bell, having no idea what to expect. When the door opened, we had to catch our breath. This palace would be our home for the next seven days, and Troy and I would have our own four-bedroom, two-bath guesthouse.

After unpacking, I stepped out onto our second story terrace just as a brightly colored hot air balloon floated overhead. The sky above was pinkish, dotted with gray clouds. The air was cool and balmy. I surveyed the magnificent courtyard below.

Every morning in San Miguel de Allende, Troy and I awoke to the soft, resonant chiming of church bells. We met our host, Leslie, in her cozy kitchen, where she served us hot coffee and fresh Mexican papaya with yogurt and honey, her dog Hector snoozing nearby.  We’d chat over breakfast and plan our day, while hummingbirds and a particularly industrious vermillion flycatcher flitted about in the garden.

We walked to “work” every day. The cobblestone streets were so narrow you brushed shoulders with people you passed – not like Los Angeles or Manhattan, where you avoid eye contact at all cost. In San Miguel, everyone smiles and says Buenos Dias. I have never been in a place that felt happier. All the locals told me, “San Miguel is magic.” I believe them.

The days were spent swimming in a sea of brilliance. Amy and I taught workshops in the early part of the day, then were free to attend the classes and workshops of our colleagues, or perhaps attend a lecture with Naomi Wolf, Margaret Atwood or Joy Harjo. In the evening we were treated to a play (That Dorothy Parker, written by and starring my new friend Carol Lempert) or comedy with Second City’s Scotty Watkins, or Naomi’s film Protest 101. The conference was awash with opportunities to nourish my mind.

Everyone I met in San Miguel was a writer, artist, philanthropist, musician, therapist, filmmaker, winemaker, wine-drinker – the point is, all following their calling in life. The energy is palpable in a town filled with happy people. It is alive, sparkling, vibrant.

As faculty, we were hosted at lavish brunches, nightly fiestas, and an enchanted cocktail party that I will always remember. Walking up the long candle-lit staircase of the historic Sierra Nevada Hotel, my knees buckled when we got to the top. The rooftop was lit by hundreds of candles, and overlooked the soft yellow light of the twinkling town. The gleaming spires of La Parrochia stretched upward like a beacon into the inky black sky. A sultry seniorita sang passionate Spanish love songs accompanied by flamenco guitar. I danced under the stars with my husband, deliriously happy. And just when I thought it couldn’t be any more perfect, fireworks spontaneously lit up the sky.

Other nights were spent at Jody’s table. Jody Faegan first envisioned this writer’s conference years ago, and brought her dream to life (Later, she moved back to the states, turning it over to the very lovely and capable Susan Page). Each evening, Jody extended us the invitation for margaritas and home cooking in her beautiful historic house, which 400 years before, had been the town orphanage. There was a group of 10-12 of us who’d gather each night, to fill our bellies and replenish our souls with great food, sweet wine, and the world’s finest tequila.

Around Jody’s table, you’d hear laughter, stories, confessions, political discussion, music, hopes, plans for the future. Souls were bared, dreams were encouraged, even a few tears were shed here and there.

Late at night, Troy and I would walk hand-in-hand back to our palace along the glistening cobblestone streets, through the Jardin, past the softly glowing spires of La Parrochia. True San-Miguelians now, we smiled, saying Buenos Noches to all the people we passed along the way.

On the eighth day, we loaded our baggage in a van and headed for the airport. As if on cue, the skies over San Miguel flushed a dramatic blood-orange red over heather grey clouds. How appropriate, that we would be ushered in by dawn, and carried home under this magnificent sunset.

My week in San Miguel was filled with synchronicities and tiny miracles. Life changing events occurred that may take me some time to unravel. My soul was replenished, my heart transformed by the people I met, and every experience I had.

Troy and I will be counting the days until we return again to this beautiful treasure- this jewel in the crown of Mexico. Until then, I carry a piece of it with me – en mi Corazon.

Hollye Dexter is a singer/songwriter with four albums out, author of the memoir Only Good Things and co-editor of the anthology Dancing at the Shame Prom: Sharing the stories that kept us small. Her stories have been published in Chicken Soup for the Soul, Answered Prayers, and Character Consciousness as well as many online sources. She is a regular contributor for iPinion Syndicate and AOL Patch News.  www.hollyedexter.blogspot.com

Backpacking Poet, JC Sullivan, recently attended the 2012 San Miguel Writers’ Conference.  She sent us an email that stated, “The Conference was amazing — everyone was raving about how fabulous and inspiring it was. What a beautiful gift to the world.”  Also included was the following poem.

Mexico: A Cautionary Tale

I was warned.
Repeatedly.
Warned.
So many times it lost its potency.
Warned.
By well-meaning friends
living in “safe” gated communities with armed guards
By acquaintances
who have never been here
By media reports
glamorizing and spreading alarm
Who have a different definition of danger. And of what
constitutes safety.

Stupid me!
I didn’t listen
to any of it.

Adventurous, perhaps with a death wish,
I didn’t look.

Worse.
I wasn’t careful.

And…
In “dangerous” Mexico,
I was robbed.

Stupid, stupid me!

Yes, Mexico…
stole from me…
A smile.
At first.

And then,
they got bolder
and took…
A laugh.

and bolder still, they ran off with…
my poor self-image.

Which turned into a larger felony: They took …
time
to fill me with compliments!
Telling me
repeatedly
how wonderful it is…
to be a woman
of experience.
Who smiles.
Who laughs.
Repeatedly.

Time after time. Again and again.
Until
finally, I believed them.

As I was smiling and laughing, and actually trusting myself,
They had the nerve to go and pick-pocket my lingering self-doubts,
my well-nurtured insecurities including
my belief that “real beauty” was limited to youth…

While I was still reeling in shock,
from having been robbed,
and pick-pocketed
Mexico took
the opportunity to kill my previous ideas of what constituted
“hospitality”,
replacing it with a generosity
that
is frightening
to even try to emulate,
yet so, so fortunate to know.

See how really dangerous Mexico is?
And it got even worse!

I hadn’t recovered from such brutal behavior, when
they committed another truly horrible,
almost unspeakable
crime.

They gave me hope and optimism.
Repeatedly.
About who I was.
About who I could be.
About who we could be together.

Amongst wrapping me in love and force-feeding me laughter and
compliments and
smothering me in generosity
and unfathomably fabulous hospitality,
I was rendered helpless.
Utterly
helpless.

Stupid, stupid, stupid me.

I did not cry for help
or
run away.
Mexico took complete advantage of my situation and committed the
biggest atrocity of all. Once again, they stole …
my heart –
and my soul.

Now I’m so scared -
deeply, utterly terrified -
that I cannot return the favor.

Never happier,
I steal away…
to wish
this kind of “danger” on everyone.

JC Sullivan is a poet and writer and also a member of the Travelers
Century Club for people who have been to more than 100 countries.

Last week I went down to the San Miguel de Allende Writers Conference. All I can say is: Wow!

After selling books my whole adult life, I still don’t understand this  one mystery: Why do writers write? I’m fascinated by all writers, from Pulitzer Prize winners to old geezers puttering around with  memoirs of their exploits at The Battle of the Bulge.  In particular  I’m puzzled and amazed at the minds of fiction writers. I can’t imagine   inventing stories. It’s hard enough to lie to Leslie about how I let  the gold fish die while she and Hayley  were visiting  Disneyland for the weekend.  Almost all the novelists I speak with say that the stories keep pouring out of their heads like water from a broken faucet. I think it must have something to do with the subconscious. When I try to understand it, the phrase that keeps coming into my mind is “touched by the muse”.  I don’t even believe in the muse. But I don’t know how else to explain it.

Fascinating and exciting though they may be, most writers conferences – how shall I say this? – aren’t easily monetized. Not to put too fine a point on it, I don’t usually come away with a lot of new clients. But I have to tell you. To paraphrase Mitt Romney, there was some severe talent down in San Miguel de Allende.  I asked  to read  a lot of manuscripts from the writers down there. And I know that some of them are going to end up on the front tables at Book Passage.

A lot of writers conferences have their primary  focus on how to get published. Pitching to the agents is always  the highlight of the conference.  Prior to the pitch sessions, participants go to workshops where they are instructed  with excruciating detail on the nuances of the  perfect pitch.  I would imagine it feels a little  like learning the rules of etiquette at the court of Louis the XIV.   I don’t believe in any of this. I tell the writers that I just want to have a conversation about what they are writing about. I like to think that a bad pitch won’t kill a good project and a good pitch won’t save a bad one.

San Miguel de Allende  was more about writing than learning how to get published and networking with agents.   The agents played a more subordinate role, which was all for the best.   There were only four agents there. We did have the usual agent panel where we tried to explain the ins and outs of getting published. Before the panel started, I introduced myself to the agent sitting to my right, Kathleen Anderson. She’s a very successful agent in New York. I decided to try to impress her by telling her that I sold a book earlier in the day. She responded that she did as well.  Hers was the collected unpublished writings of James Joyce.  Mine wasn’t.   So ended the conversation. It turns out that Kathleen was not your usual snooty New York agent though. We’ll get to that in a few minutes.

Speaking of James Joyce, I spent a lot of time talking to Susan Sutliff  Brown. Susan is a freelance editor – book doctor – ghost writer.  And a very good one too. She’s  also a retired James Joyce scholar. Susan told me entre nous (and I really shouldn’t be repeating this in a blog) that she loves reading junk fiction. I attended her fiction workshop where she attempted to explain  what Joyce, William Faulkner,  and  mystery writer James Lee Burke have in common.  More than you might imagine, according to Susan. She also brought up Scruples  by Judith Krantz. I was doodling on my legal pad, so I wasn’t paying attention at that moment.  Susan might have been saying that Krantz’s first novel had a lot in common with Thomas Mann’s Magic Mountain, but I might have heard it wrong.

I went to another fiction writing session conducted by C.M. Mayo, an award winning writer living in Mexico City. She talked a lot about first lines in literature. At the end of the class we all attempted to compose a great first line.  A lot of them sounded like bad imitations of Henry James.  I took a different approach. I wrote something about diarrhea at the art opening.  More  Charles Bukowski than Portrait of a Lady. And, like Bukowski, my genius was not understood or appreciated at the time.

I  was off and on engaged in a running conversation/argument with Rikki Ducornet  about  how writers write and how story tellers tell stories.  Rikki has written 8 novels and has won about a zillion literary awards. Right now she is writing a libretto to an opera based on The Gilgamesh Epic. I can’t exactly remember what  we talked about but I do recall  bringing up Nietzsche’s notion of the union of the spirit of Apollo and Dionysus in Greek tragedy. It was as if I was back in my sophomore year at Brandeis.

The highlight of the entire conference  was an over-top-fiesta that conference director Susan Page put on in a huge 18^th Century mansion. There was a phalanx of mariachi players. A few of them looked suspiciously like retired Jews from New York. Whatever.  My favorite thing  there was a real burro wearing a straw hat with plastic flowers.

At the Fiesta, Kathleen Anderson, Kristen Iversen, Christine Wettlaufer, and I decided it was time to act like real writers and head for the bars. Christine had spent some time in San Miguel de Allende and insisted that we go to La Cucaracha, a bar with certain literary pretensions. It is said that Neal Cassady had his fatal accident on the train tracks outside of town after getting drunk at La Cucaracha. Legend has it that the bar has one of the 10 skankiest ladies’ rooms in the world. We ordered some margaritas there, and looked around at the clientele. Some of them  seemed like they might be over the hill “D” rated  Hollywood actors. There were a lot of TVs around the room. But instead of showing football, they had looping videos of go-go dancers in g-strings.

We decided it was time to move on, so we left and walked along the cobblestone streets to the plaza and found another bar, a little less, how shall we say, picturesque.  This time I ordered  the  true beverage of great writers — a scotch on the rocks. The waitress couldn’t speak English and none of us could really explain what we wanted in Spanish. Finally  I asked for Scotch con helado, which I later  discovered to my dismay meant “scotch and ice cream”.

Kristen Iversen is the director of the MFA program for writing at the University of Memphis. She was one of the keynote speakers at the conference. She was also once the student of Rikki Ducornet. Kristen’s forthcoming book is called Full Body Burden: Growing Up in the Nuclear Shadow of Rocky Flats. 22 publishers bid on it at auction. It’s being published by Crown Books this summer.   Of course, all of us wanted to know how much money Kristen got, but we were too embarrassed to ask. When Kristen went to the bathroom, though, we talked about it a lot. Christine is Kristen’s star student and probably knows how big the advance was, but she wouldn’t tell us except to say that Kristen probably doesn’t have to teach any more. Christine has written a memoir about her 24 years in the military. She’s good and I told her I wanted to represent her, but the book is a finalist for the Bakeless Award. If it wins, it automatically gets published by Graywolf  Press. So there isn’t much help I can give her.  Of course if it loses……

We all went bar hopping again on Saturday night along with some other authors whom I think I would like to sign up as well. We went to Harry’s Bar. It was “Bikini Night”. Anyone coming to the bar in a bikini got in free. They had a 12 foot high bare breasted papier-mâché female figure at the entrance. Somewhere in Kristen’s camera is a picture of me fondling it. She tells me the picture may have gotten lost. I hope she’s right.

I loved that writers conference. It was a lot of fun. I made some good friends. I got to hang out with writers. Life doesn’t get much better than that.

via: At the San Miguel de Allende Writers Conference.

I just got back from ten days in San Miguel de Allende, Mexico, my old hometown, where I gave a travel writing workshop at the San Miguel International Writers’ Conference.

On the first morning, I was invited to a faculty brunch in the courtyard of an old colonial hotel. As I was reaching for a mug, I looked beside me and there stood Margaret Atwood pouring herself a coffee. She was shorter than I thought she’d be, with smooth rosy skin and robin’s egg blue eyes. Surprisingly, this brilliant heroine of mine, a world literary giant whose books I’ve been devouring since high school, appeared to be an actual human being. I figured she wouldn’t mind a fellow Canadian saying hello. Just as I was about to ask her if she thought the coffee was the shade-grown, fair-trade variety, which I knew was important to her to protect the habitat of birds, a bossy woman came to tell us to sit down to eat.

I wasn’t deterred. A few minutes later, I saw Margaret Atwood again, sitting at a round table surrounded by four other writers, two of whom I knew, sort of. There was one empty seat. I thought to myself, why the hell not? The rest of the tables were quickly filling up with American and Mexican writers. Why shouldn’t I sit with the Canadian writers? I smiled and asked if I could sit down. They said sure.

Just as we started to talk, the conference organizer announced she wanted all of us to stand up and introduce ourselves, all 50 of us from our separate tables. Margaret groaned and rolled her eyes, giving me a knowing smirk, one that said, Oh please! Half an hour later, when we were deeply into our vegan antojitos and non-shade-grown coffee, we finally began to chat, discussing sex scandals at Canadian publishing houses; how Americans purportedly don’t want to read about their own country from an outsider’s point of view (both myself and a married couple at the table, Merilyn Simonds and Wayne Grady, have written travel memoirs set partly in the U.S.); and Margaret Atwood’s latest book, The Year of the Flood.

I was especially interested in this topic since I’m reading the book now. The Year of the Flood is her latest dystopian speculation about a world of survivors in a violent future, complete with genetically engineered humans and animals, a stifling hot planet, and a corporation ruling the world. The seeds of everything she writes about have already been planted today. The book is scary as hell. Especially fascinating to me is the cult of Gardeners who cling to religion even though the cult’s leader knows that God is just a cluster of neurons in our brain and we’ve evolved to believe in gods as an evolutionary advantage. Since I believe this myself, I wanted to ask her if she thinks it’s an evolutionary advantage because those who believe in gods live longer, having more hope. But instead, all I could do was look at her despondently and say, “Margaret, is there any hope for the world?”

She sighed. I’d asked her a question I learned that night in her keynote address she gets asked a lot. “We have to have hope,” she answered, “because without it, nothing can get better.” She smiled and shrugged.

The next day, after a lunch of spinach empanadas, I happened to sit next to Margaret Atwood again to hear Naomi Wolfe’s talk on advocacy. (My favourite of Naomi Wolfe’s lines was, “If you’re true to yourself, your writing can’t have clichés.) That night I went to a party in Naomi’s Wolfe’s hotel room and a cute young guy told me I had spinach in my teeth. I hadn’t eaten since the empanadas. I’d had a huge piece of spinach in my teeth while talking to Margaret Atwood. “Margaret Atwood must have noticed! I’m mortified!” I groaned.

I drank another margarita and thought, what the hell. We’re all going to burn up in a plague anyway. Bottoms up.

via Meeting Margaret Atwood with Spinach in my Teeth – The Travel Writing Life .

The 2012 San Miguel Writers’ Conference has come to an end and we’d like to thank everyone who attended the conference.  This year’s event was the largest we’d put on in the seven years since the conference’s inception and we hope that everyone who participated is now busily writing.

Over the next few weeks we will be uploading photos of the conference to our Facebook Fan Page as well some other treats such as a film with interviews of the general speakers and keynote speakers, and information on how to download MP3s of many of the sessions.  If you’re interested in photos and keeping in contact with the other conference attendees go to our Facebook Fan Page, and click the ‘Like’ button at the top of the page.

You can also stay in contact with us through email.  To join our mailing list click HERE and fill out the form.

We also have a blog with weekly updates about what is going on in San Miguel de Allende and news about the Writers’ Conference.  To subscribe to the blog mailing go HERE and fill in your email in the right hand column. 

Many people have approached those of us involved with the conference and said that they were ‘inspired’ and that the experience was ‘magical.’  We’re all very happy about this and would like to thank everyone who came to the conference and made 2012 an amazing event for all.

www.sanmiguelwritersconference2012.org