Ask And You Shall Receive 

By TAD BARTIMUS

From the time we're able, we're urged to ask for what we want. "Ask nice," say our mothers and fathers, "and don't forget to say 'please' and 'thank you.'" They make it sound so simple. Even the Bible promises, "Ask, and you shall receive."
But how many of us do? We hem and haw, stew and fret, and almost never take that simple way out. Mostly, we just don't think of it - too often we feel unworthy to ask for something just because we want it. If there's one thing humans do well, it's complicate our own lives.
Eight years ago, John and Shannon Tullius dreamed of bringing together some of the best storytellers in the land to mentor writers-in-the-making. The Tulliuses founded the Maui Writers Foundation in 1993 with no money -- and a lot of friends who got a free ticket to fly to Maui over Labor Day weekend to teach at a four-day writers conference.
Like the farmer in "Field of Dreams," the Tulliuses believed that "if you build it, they will come." They begged and borrowed ("So far no stealing!" joked John) from everyone they knew to enable the first 150 students to hear how professionals cope with writer's block, the pitfalls of publishing and the miracle of a bestseller. The common theme then, as now, was the joy of creating stories and figuring out how to earn a living from them.
It was a literary car wash; everybody - teachers and students alike -- got their brains soaped, hosed down, waxed, polished and sent back out into the world all shiny and new.
"Most of all, I remember the exhilaration," housewife Deborah Iida later wrote. "For to arrive at one's first writers conference is to arrive not just at a place and time, but also to arrive within."
Iida was a Maui housewife and mother of three who took her unpublished novel "Middle Son" and wound up winning the first manuscript writing contest. "Middle Son" was published to wide critical acclaim by Algonquin Books in 1996, and Iida now is a full-time author. She teaches every year at the conference and the writers retreat, a hands-on outgrowth of what has arguably become the biggest, most famous writers conference in the world. She constantly reminds herself that many who come seeking help have scrimped, saved and done without in order to be there.
It cost $250,000 that first year to put on the conference, and the Tulliuses were $110,000 in the red when it ended. This year the price tag was $2.5 million. Almost a thousand writing enthusiasts, of all ages and skill levels, paid $1 million of that. The rest came from grants, in-kind contributions and donations. Retreat tuition is $975 for six days; the conference that follows can cost up to $695 for four more days of writing immersion. The fees do not include transportation, housing or meals. Many students come back year after year, and say the financial sacrifice and commitment is worth it because of the impetus it gives them to keep on with their work.

When I was asked to teach, in 1994, I found out everybody who comes to the Maui Writers Conference is chasing a dream. Successful authors want to pass along what they know and pay back for their good fortune. Journeymen writers want to learn how to get better and make that leap to the next level. Novices are starved for advice, encouragement and a hand-up in a tough business. 
Everybody belongs to the same tribe; it's not necessary to explain why they like being hunched over in a dark room in front of a blank computer screen or an empty piece of typewriter paper; everybody understands. They also share an understanding that the world revolves around stories, that storytellers are witnesses who stand between remembrance and oblivion.
Best-selling author John Saul and his entrepreneurial partner Mike Sack have been avid conference supporters, both financially and professionally, since 1995. Sack says: "It's like coming home to camp; we wouldn't miss it for the world."
Book agents and publishers who normally live insular lives in the New York-Los Angeles literary milieu are accessible in the laid-back setting as they troll for their next best-selling author. Miracles like that happen here; conference gossip is rife with such testimonial anecdotes. Pulitzer Prize, Tony Award and Oscar winners recruited by the Tulliuses seem eager to share what they know with an unpublished author. This year, "Angela's Ashes" author Frank McCourt and his brother Malachy, also a fine writer, mentored dozens of unknowns, one-on-one, just as columnist Dave Barry, "Tuesdays With Morrie" author Mitch Albom and many others have done in the past.
Dorothy Allison, a National Book Award finalist for "Bastard Out of Carolina," stood up at the pre-conference orientation for the 125 presenters and said, "I'm nervous to be in such a high-powered crowd." Director Ron Howard wrote in this year's program that: "This environment, the conference and the people you meet here are extraordinary ... if there is paradise on earth, this is it."
Terry Brooks, whose latest book was "Star Wars: The Phantom Menace," an adaptation of the George Lucas blockbuster movie, has 15 million books in print and 16 consecutive New York Times bestsellers but comes back every year to teach for free "because it's so much fun and the students are great."
The only people who don't say much are John and Shannon Tullius. Their year's work obvious in the noisy buzz of hundreds of energized writers, they always just stand back and watch. They seem unaware that theirs is the most important lesson of all: if you ask (and work like crazy), you shall receive. 

© 2000 The Women Syndicate. The content on these pages is the property of The Women Syndicate and may not be used without express written permission. Contact friends@tadbartimus.com