Do you know how sometimes ideas start small? They are like tiny seeds planted somewhere in our hypothalamus or prefrontal cortex. (Lest you be too impressed…those are the only two parts of the brain I could think of without the help of google.)  Those ideas sit there, burrow in, and then they start growing roots. Next come little shoots and leaves until the idea has taken up way more space in your brain than you ever intended and you either need to prune that sucker…or…you need to water it. 

            That’s the way the idea for creative writing camp began for me. I’d started my career as a seventh-grade language arts teacher and had co-led the creative writing club at Clay Middle School in Carmel. When I transitioned to life as mom-by-day and author-by-night, I got to keep many of the perks of being a teacher. I still got to go into schools to talk to kids about writing and reading and dream chasing, and then I got to leave without having to grade anyone’s essays. Win. Win. Right?  Well, almost. I also didn’t get to connect with young writers. I didn’t get to teach them the nitty gritty stuff that goes into turning an idea into something more. I didn’t get to help the next generation of creative thinkers with their heads in the clouds.  And I missed it.  

            A creative writing summer camp sounded like the perfect solution.  The problem was that I also had kids. Four of them to be precises, and they weren’t the older self-sufficient variety. They were still the very young hot mess variety that can’t be left to their own devices. So how in the world would I host a summer camp with these four underfoot? So, I put the idea on hold. I put a pin in it. I let it nestle itself into my brain and then I told it to wait. But every year summer would roll around, and I’d feel a sad tug that I’d never figured out a way to make a creative writing camp happen. 

             I envisioned it as the kind of camp that I WISH I could have attended as a kid. The kind of camp that would have helped me in achieving the dream of my heart…which was writing a book.  So, while I had the idea in idea purgatory, I daydreamed. As a writer, I consider myself a professional daydreamer, and I mentally accumulated mentor texts that would be wonderful to read to my imaginary campers, mini lessons that would help them hone their craft, and I pictured giving them the hardest thing for a writer to find…time to write.  Dedicated time to curl up with their writing notebooks away from the noise of their technological filled world where they could let their imaginations run wild.   

            Ten years after stepping away from my classroom, I sent a post out onto the all-knowing Zionsville Mom’s Facebook page asking if there were even kids out there who might be interested in something like this. I was overwhelmed when I had over one hundred responses to my post by the end of the day. The conclusion? Yes. There WERE kids out there who would LOVE a camp just like the one I’d imagined. So, I did what I do best. I jumped, and I hoped the net would appear.  I put together a google form, drafted a new post for facebook, and made the sign up live.  I would do two sessions. One for writers ages 9-11, and a second for writers ages 12-15. The twenty available slots were full within days, and I ended up adding two bonus campers…one of which was my own daughter who promised she’d act like a camper and NOT like my kid. 

            After poking around a bit, I decided that hosting the camp at my house in Holliday Farms was my best and definitely cheapest, option. Especially once I calculated how much it was going to cost me to send MY kids to other camps. Ouch. Besides, I had a dining room with a big table that would work perfectly and was just the right size to fit eleven campers and one over eager author. As camp approached, I was equal parts excited and anxious. How would this go? Would it be a success? Could I fill almost eight hours with interesting creative writing content? Oh, and I also had the book launch event for my new book Wander Lost in the middle of all this! Add to that having my house cleaned and picked up by nine am. after successfully getting three boys up, fed, and out the door for camp.  (Daydreaming I excel at…keeping my house in showroom condition? Not my spiritual gifting.) 

            The first day of camp arrived, and I welcomed over twenty writers into my house.  It was wonderful. I’d been worried that I may end up with a well-meaning mom who sent their “kid who hates writing” to a writing camp, but instead I found myself chatting with the next generation of creative movers and shakers. It was everything I’d hoped it would be. The idea that I’d decided to water had been worth the effort. Did I make a fortune? Hardly. I’m refusing to do the math of what I spent on supplies, childcare, and camps in order to pull this off. Some things are just worth doing regardless of the bottom line. This was one of them. Camp Creative was a success.  Now my kitchen can go back to its normal state of “were these people robbed?” Camp Creative has been packed up and stored in the basement…until next year. 

If you have a local (Indianapolis area) creative writer interested in coming to Camp Creative next summer?! Email me at LauraMartinBooks@gmail.com for availability!

Not local?! No problem! I had my first two virtual campers last summer, and it worked wonderfully! I’m working on offering a digital only option for Camp Creative next summer! Stay tuned!!!