The summer container for embodied writing
write with heat
For eight weeks, we write from the body — from its heat, its hunger, its memory, its willingness to be undone. We begin with the senses, because that is where the heat enters.
Touch. Taste. Smell. Sound. Sight.
We move the way summer moves — through the senses first, and then into what the senses surface. What the body knows that the mind keeps refusing.
the 8 weeks
Week one — Touch
The body’s edge. Heat as fact, before it is metaphor. What you let in, and what you deflect.
Week two — Taste
The mouth as archive. Rosé, salt, figs, the river fish. The specific flavor of your summer, not the idea of it.
Week three — Smell
The most mnemonic sense. The door memory walks through when you are not guarding it.
Week four — Sound
What the summer makes you hear. The rhythm of a sentence. The voice that grows louder the longer you ignore it.
Week five — Sight
The mirage on the road. The light that shows you the version of yourself you have been keeping at a distance.
Week six — The heat of memory
The character who returns each summer — restless, rebellious. She is not your enemy. She is your material. Or the muse.
Week seven — Surrender
There has never been logic in art. We write into the chaos, into what hurts, into what has been too hot to hold.
Week eight — Preservation
The heat will not last. We write what must survive it — the word, the image, the truth that carries you into autumn.
What do you get in the program?
Eight weeks of writing from July 15 to September 4.
A weekly sensory invitation.
Six live gatherings on Zoom, where we read, respond, and write together.
Recorded guidance to return to in your own hours.
A small circle of writers and a private space to share the work and be witnessed.
And feedback — private and generous, if you want it.
Who is it for?
You who have been writing longer than you have been comfortable. You know your craft, and you know the silence. Summer brings you not freedom but a particular undoing — the senses too loud, the pages suddenly wrong, the old work tedious in the new light.
Or perhaps you, who are only at the beginning. Perhaps something has just woken in you — a heat beneath the skin, a sense that there are words you have not yet let yourself write. You do not need years behind you to belong here. You need only the willingness to feel.
Either way, you, who are ready to follow the heat.
about alexandra
Alexandra Panic
I am a writer, writing teacher, yoga teacher, and astrologer.
I hold an MFA in Creative Writing from Goddard College and a 500-hour yoga certification specializing in yin yoga and trauma-informed practice.
I have been teaching writing since 2016. I have been living in a body longer than that. The two are not separate for me — and that is the entire premise of this work.
write with heat opens July 15 and runs through September 4.
The container is intentionally small.
Investment:
$500, in full.
Or, two payments of $300.
If the heat has been arriving in your body but not yet on the page, this is the door.
If it doesn't burn your skin, it will not get through and under.
To step in, write to me.