Author: Amy Lyles Wilson

I help people tell the stories they are called to tell through offering a variety of creative and spiritual practices. I facilitate workshops and retreats on such topics as creativity, grief, and spirituality. Published writer and experienced editor. Degrees in English, journalism, and theology. Lover of dogs, coffee, and all things wordsmith-y. Trained in Narrative Healthcare, Amherst Writers & Artists, Spiritual Direction, and SoulCollage®. "It's the sharing of our stories that saves us."

Jump Start Your Writing in the New Year: Creative Resolutions 2011, A Writing Workshop for Women

~ Amy Lyles Wilson

Amy Lyles Wilson and ALIGN Wellness Studio Announce

“Creative Resolutions 2011: A Writing Workshop for Women”

Writer and editor Amy Lyles Wilson believes it is the sharing of our stories that saves us, and she invites you to write your heart out in a supportive environment designed to encourage your voice and silence the inner critic. Through prompts, readings, and resources, you’ll get the New Year off to a productive start in this workshop facilitated under the principles of Amherst Writers and Artists. This is not a critique group, and writers of all experience—and confidence—levels are welcomed, respected, and nurtured. Come claim your chair around the table for a morning of creativity and conversation.

Saturday, January 8, 2011

Meet and Greet: 9:00 a.m.; Workshop: 9:30 a.m. to 1 p.m.

ALIGN Wellness Studio

Cost: $50:00

Limited to 12 Participants

Call ALIGN to reserve your spot: 615-383-0148

Amy Lyles Wilson co-authored Bless Your Heart: Saving the World One Covered Dish at a Time (Thomas Nelson), and is a columnist and blogger for Her Nashville magazine, hernashville.com. She has worked in publishing for more than 25 years, and her byline has appeared in a variety of publications, as well as on NPR’s “This I Believe.” She is a trained affiliate of Amherst Writers & Artists, and a graduate of Millsaps College, the University of Mississippi, and Vanderbilt University Divinity School. More at amylyleswilson.com.

“Being in Amy Lyles Wilson’s workshop is better than getting a massage!”—Kristi

ALIGN Wellness Studio, Belle Meade Plaza, 4544 Harding Pike, Suite 215

615-383-0148

Of Middle-Aged Dreams and the Demise of the Bookstore

~ Amy Lyles Wilson ~ 6 Comments

I am a middle-aged goober who still has dreams, even though I don’t have as much time to get them accomplished as I once did, seeing that I’m staring 50 in the face. To wit: I’d like to lose some weight, write a novel, and buy an old farmhouse where creative types can come to write and commune and hang out. And I wanted, as much as anything, really, to have a book signing at the Davis-Kidd bookstore in Nashville. On November 2, that dream came true for me. And this week came word that the store will close by the end of the year.

Back in 1993, my parents sat with me at the Davis-Kidd café as I signed the papers to buy my first home in Nashville. The store was at a different location then, one that felt like home. My father was still alive, and I was thinner, and single, and dreaming of being a writer. It was the place where I heard Mary Karr for the first time; where I discovered the work of Ann Hood, a writer I would later study with at Chautauqua; where I spent many an enjoyable Friday evening listening to music and having dinner; and where I could find those literary journals no one else carries.

When Davis-Kidd moved to the Green Hills Mall a while back, it didn’t “feel right” to me, but I like to think I understand progress, and commerce, and foot traffic. And it still seemed like home in many respects, just a bigger, less cozy one.

Thank you, Davis-Kidd, for the books, and the tuna melts, and the memories. And the dream come true.

In Which I Break Down in Midway Airport

~ Amy Lyles Wilson ~ 1 Comment
Photo from iStockPhoto.

Last week I faced one of the most challenging developments in my career. It was exciting and scary all that once. And I was pretty much out of my mind with apprehension. As well as insecure, curious, happy, nervous, giddy, and sick to my stomach. Throw in being about 800 miles from home and you have quite the recipe for one freaked-out middle-aged goober.

Knowing how worried I was, Precious said this: “I’ll believe in you until you can believe in yourself.” And so he did. And then finally I did, too.

But not before I had a meltdown in Chicago’s Midway Airport, attracting a sympathetic gaze and grandfatherly pat from a chaplain. Think sweet (the priest) and pathetic (me) simultaneously.

Others assisted me along the way as well, maybe more than they know, although I have tried to tell them how much I appreciate their support, and their prayers, and their text messages. I love that at my age, 49, I can reach out and ask for what I need without worrying if people will consider me “needy.” I was needy last week, and so ask I did. I’m not sure I could have completed my assignment—or even gotten on the plane—with any sense of grace or aplomb if I hadn’t been sustained by such loving souls.

I’ve Got Mail

~ Amy Lyles Wilson

 

Sunflowers by Pat Coakley, http://www.patcoakley.com

 

In my inbox I find an email from one of the precious young people I had the pleasure of studying with at Vanderbilt University Divinity School a few years back, when I decided that a college campus would be a good place to have a mid-life crisis. Surrounded by thoughtful twenty-somethings who were convinced they could change the world, I learned a lot about God, and myself, and the human condition.

She was thinking of me, she said in her email, and wanted me to know that on a bulletin board in her office rests a note I wrote her in the spring of 2007. Reading it never fails to cheer her up when she’s having a bad day. Words matter.

I don’t remember writing the note, as these days I’m often unsure as to whether I’ve brushed my teeth before leaving the house. And I haven’t a clue what I might have said to her. But I remember this lovely young woman, studying to become a preacher and dedicating herself to working for good. She gives me hope.