“I discovered that I held more words, more ways of telling, than I had ever been aware of.”
Anna Posa
In September, I joined an author’s week in Tre Fontane, a small seaside village in the southwest of Sicily.
An Author´s Week In Tre Fontane, sicily
In September, I joined an author’s week in Tre Fontane, a small seaside village in the southwest of Sicily. Tre Fontane is the kind of place where Italians spend their summer holidays, while only a handful stay all year round. The village is simple, with one main street running along the beach, a little square where the locals gather in the evenings, and a coastline that stretches nearly eight kilometers. It was here, between sea and sky, that I came to spend a week devoted to writing.
I have been writing since I was seven years old. Words have always been close to me, but this time I wanted to see if I could deepen my knowledge, to learn more about the craft and structure of writing. I came with curiosity — and perhaps also a quiet longing to surprise myself.
The days quickly took on a rhythm. Early mornings began with a power walk of five or six kilometers before breakfast, when the air was still fresh and the beach almost empty. After breakfast came the heart of the day: theory and practical writing exercises that stretched until lunchtime. Afternoons were left free for walking along the shore, or, on some days, for small excursions to nearby villages. We were a group of seven, and soon we found ourselves moving as if we had always known each other.
Our leader, Susann, was remarkable. She carried an ease in her way of teaching — inspiring, never intimidating — and she managed to open doors without making anyone feel pressure or fear. Under her guidance, words flowed more freely than I had expected. What surprised me most was my own ability: the discovery that I held more words, more ways of telling, than I had been aware of. I learned that I could write both fiction and non-fiction, and that shifting between the two was not only possible, but rewarding.
What remains with me from this week is not only technique and confidence, but the warmth of our shared moments. The laughter that rose unexpectedly during our conversations. The dinners where we carried the kitchen table out into the street, lit it with twenty candles, and sat long into the night with food, music, and stories.
This experience gave me an inner richness. I returned home with new tools, stronger foundations, and a little more certainty in my writing. Perhaps most importantly, I left Tre Fontane with the reminder that words are not only something we put on paper — they are a way to connect, to live, and to feel at home, wherever we are.
