WCSU MFA 2025 Summer Residency @ Highlights
Last week, I traded the Carolina coast for the story-soaked hills of Pennsylvania, joining the Western Connecticut State University MFA Summer Residency at the beautiful Highlights Foundation retreat center. There’s a stillness there you can feel in your bones—mornings draped in mist and bunnies, afternoons humming with wildflower blooms and butterfly wings, and evenings beset with campfires and porch lights—and that quiet is a rare, precious gift for those of us who live in a world that demands we be loud and fast and endlessly available. Out there, in the hush of the woods, stories have room to stretch. So do we.
Of course, put a group of women together in that quiet—writers, poets, dreamers—and the stillness doesn’t last long (sorry, fellas in attendance). It turns to laughter that carries across the treetops, to fierce conversations, to the kind of chaotic feminine magic that only happens when creativity is both nurtured and witnessed.
During my time at residency, I gave two readings—first, my story “Bone Marrow,” a coming-of-age were-woman tale included in the upcoming women-in-horror anthology HOWL, and second, a piece from a current work-in-progress. I sat on a lively publishing panel with Housatonic Book Award winners Jen Soriano and Cleo Qian and faculty peer Stephanie M. Wytovich, and led a two-hour workshop on self-editing, diving deep into the craft of refining stories until they’re razor sharp. I also had the deep, deep privilege of watching my bestie (and HOWL co-editor) teach an absolutely brilliant workshop on monstrosity—one of those talks that stays under your skin in the best way possible.
Between sessions, I met with my new mentees, caught up with dear friends, swapped pages and ideas with students, and celebrated the accomplishments of recent graduates.
It was, everything.
Too much to find words to contain it all, and no metric to measure the joy.
There’s something about the Highlights grounds that invites both reflection and inspiration, and I left feeling full—of gratitude, creativity, and maybe a little too much of Chef Amanda’s mashed potatoes and local peaches. Until next time, I’ll be holding on to the echoes of those conversations, reminding me why we write, why we teach, and why community matters so much in this work we love.
(And thank you to Pete for all the pics!)
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