This workshop is presented with the Secret Society of Publishers (SSOP) writing group. Bring your rejection letter and reimagine it (create an artwork in response, one that you can symbolically “deliver back” to the sender. 🫣). Together, we’ll free write.  Think of this session less like a formal lecture and more like a creative jam session for artists, and anyone who’s ever found themselves thinking, "Maybe writing is something I should be doing more often in my studio process?" We’ll begin with an introduction to the thinking and practice behind writing as studio practice. To think, feel and sense how line moves into words or scribbles, how words can hold gesture, and how ideas can sit alongside materials, waiting for us to notice them. This opening is a gentle invitation into the This is going to be an interactive engagement and approaches to writing as thought, doing and making art. After that, we loosen up. You’ll be guided through a series of short, intuitive writing exercises: what we like to call “free writing.” There’s no wrong way to do it. Think of it as stretching before a dance or humming before a song. We’ll ask: How do you feel about what you’ve written? What surprised you? What resisted being written? Then we’ll write again, but this time with new eyes, with memory still warm in the hand. Next, we’ll explore responding to a rejection letter. You can respond either in writing or by using the letter itself as a surface of thought and making. The letter becomes a kind of studio: something to think with, mark, collage, annotate, or even argue with. It’s a chance to see how writing can transform from something private into something performative and material. A group discussion will follow, where we unpack the process based on what worked, what didn’t, what lingered. All conversations are also part of writings that act as a kind of reflective experiences – a record of how ideas moved between us through senses. In essence, Writing as Studio Practice is an experiment in slowing down, tuning in, and seeing writing not as a finished product, but as a living, breathing part of the creative process. Bring your notebook, your curiosity, and your willingness to get a little lost in thought. That’s where the good stuff usually hides.