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By Amy Wheeler

Welcome to Hedgebrook’s Much-Anticipated Blog!

Several years ago, Hedgebrook friend, local writer and owner of Whidbey Island’s iconic Clyde Theatre, Lynn Willeford, asked me point blank (in true Lynn fashion), “When is Hedgebrook going to have a blog? I’m interested in knowing what’s on your writer’s minds.”

Lynn was, characteristically, ahead of the curve with her vision! But she planted a seed in my mind about how we could begin to communicate the growing impact of Hedgebrook with our community. And not just on the impact on the writers who come here, but on the world-at-large because of those writers and the work they produce here.

In short: the idea that what happens at Hedgebrook doesn’t stay at Hedgebrook.   Read more

By Hedgebrook Guest

There’s No Place Like Hedgebrook

14 years later, on a teasingly sunny newly spring day, sitting at a desk in Hedgebrook’s office, I’m remembering my first trip out to Hedgebrook. I remember the feeling traveling over here from Seattle, where I was then the Literary Manager/Dramaturg at ACT Theatre. We were partnering with Hedgebrook on producing the first annual (then called) ACT/Hedgebrook Women Playwrights Festival, which, in two weeks, will now be in its 14th year. I remember then my curiosity, excitement, anticipation…venturing into the unknown that was Hedgebrook.

14 years later, on this teasingly sunny day, I remember boarding the ferry, and feeling an energy shift midway out on the water as the ferry approached Whidbey Island. A calmness set in, a peacefulness, a pause. I remember approaching the farm, riding through Hedgebrook’s welcoming gates, and feeling the energy around me—the quiet and peace, yes, combined with the spirit of all the generous work and gifts left here from hundreds of women residents before me.

14 years later, on this teasingly sunny day, I remember the face of one of the playwrights who, after an amazing dinner of food prepared from the garden, rose to take her plate to the sink, and was told by the chef, “Sit down, you are here to be a writer. Let us take care of that.” The writer’s face froze in mid-reaction, mouth open, eyes beginning to well up with tears. That image remains with me: a poignant example of what it means for a woman to be given the gift of nurturance, space and time.        Read more

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