What JRW Means to Me
In honor of the 10th anniversary of James River Writers, we’ve asked our members, “What does JRW mean to you?”
One of our founders, novelist David L. Robbins, kicks off the series with his recollection of how it all began over a poker game.
Way back in 2001, I brought the idea of a Richmond writers’ conference to my poker friends: VCU professor and writer Tom DeHaven, Dr. Dennis Danvers, Dominion Resources public relations man Mark Lazenby, Times Dispatch editor and author Howard Owen, and Murder Mystery Theater writer and owner Jim Daab.
I’d recently returned from the Charlottesville Festival for the Book feeling a little empty. The festival, while exquisitely executed, specializes in connecting readers with their favorite authors. Why couldn’t we — I asked my sagacious circle over cigars, beers, potato chips and nickels — start our own writers’ festival, connecting not readers to writers but writers to writers?
After all, between Tom, Dennis, Howard and me, we’d published over 25 books. We knew some agents, other writers, editors, couldn’t a conference exist with the mission to teach what we knew, connect who we knew? If we were in Richmond, the chances were high that there were many more here too, yes?
The idea was greeted with the right kind of skepticism, the sort that makes you vet good ideas from bad. After more chats, especially with Tom, Dennis and Howard, the notion was moved ahead to a meeting of area writers. A dinner was planned at Howard’s home to discuss it among the wider range of local writers.
At that meeting, attended by most of the notable scribes in the city at the time, we all agreed that Howard should lead us. He begged off, and pointed at me. I turned to my new friend and soon to be sister-in-arms Phaedra Hise. If she would co-chair with me, I’d do it. She agreed.
The next few months were some of the most exciting of my life. We formed a founding board out of giving, committed people, holding monthly meetings at the Library of Virginia. Phaedra and I grew close; she handled all the administration, I did a lot of the talking. John Kneebone of the Library of Virginia was the one who recommended that we hold our conference in their halls. I recall landing our first large donation, $5,000 from Hunton & Williams. I called Phaedra from the parking deck. “Uh oh. We have to do it now.”
Every member of our board stepped up to bring James River Writers into being for our city and fellow writers. Anne McMillan designed and ran the first conference, Dennis invented the Writing Show, Dean King named us and kept us on track, Tom created the 1st Novelist Award, Howard handled logistics and threw a great party, Stephen Previtera deigned our first logo and program. I can’t recall all the individual efforts, but every person pulled yeoman’s duty. The spirit and dedication of that first board was focused on giving this gift to our community. Our meetings were energetic, everyone eager to report their progress. It was a rush to be part of. Phaedra and I became vestigial parts of each other for the next three years as co-chairs.
I’m deeply proud of the JRW, and have been every day of its existence. It has never lost sight of the mission to bring together writers of all levels for the purposes of honoring the writing craft, demystifying the business side of it, and raising everybody’s game. The organization has had an unbroken string of superb leaders and board members, men and women of vision and energy. I can’t say enough about how honored and touched I am by all those who’ve pitched in, and will continue to do so, to keep the JRW growing, vital, and compassionate.
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