San Miguel de Allende Writers Conference ... and my next country?
A Letter From Iowan Beverly Davis
Letters From Iowans is a part of the Iowa Writers’ Collaborative. We encourage you, our subscribers, to share your perspective in this column. To make your voice heard, use this form to send us your essay:
“How does tequila and tacos in February sound to you?” asked my friend Joan during a telephone call last August. That was long before I felt the urgent desire to flee the daily horror of watching the systematic dismantling of my country and its democratic values. Back then — a century ago – my friends, Joan and Jim invited me to visit their Mexican home in San Miguel de Allende and pitched the idea of attending their town’s prestigious writers conference.
Joan, a nearly retired real estate maven from Woodstock, N.Y., and a skilled ceramicist along with her husband, Jim, retired attorney and poet, discovered San Miguel 12 years ago. It wasn’t long before they were homeowners, permanent residents and active members of the creative expat community of 10,000 that is San Miguel, described in 2024 by Travel+Leisure readers as the No. 1 city in the world.
Every February for the past 20 years, San Miguel de Allende, the Mexican mountain village of 174,000, hosts the San Miguel Writers’ Conference & Literary Festival. It is North America’s most celebrated cross-cultural (English and Spanish) literary gathering of 3,000 from Canada, the United States and Mexico. Writers, wannabe-writers, and voracious readers descend upon this ancient city to hear from literary luminaries, learn new craft skills and peak into the possibility of escaping to this expat-sanctioned city. I silently wondered if this place would be my next escape pod. After all, I’ve lived abroad and there is much to recommend, especially now. But I digress:
This year, it was National Book Award winner John Irving who opened up the San Miguel de Allende Writers’ Conference by reading passages from his soon-to-be-published book, Queen Esther.
Listening to Irving read was beyond delicious. After his presentation, a short Q&A commenced. There was a slight lull in the audience of several thousand introverted writers. Excellent. Being the pushy journalist type, I jumped up, grabbed the microphone and fired off the first question.
“In all of the books you’ve written, who is your favorite character?”
Irving went into great detail. I am paraphrasing his response and grinding it into nutshell since I was hugging the microphone and not taking notes:
“Dr. Larch in Cider House Rules because he is both an abortionist and an obstetrician delivering live babies. I like that dichotomy in someone’s character, which I find interesting. A much younger Dr. Larch is a major character in my next book, Queen Esther….”
Irving served up a tasty plate of literary hors d’oeuvres signaling the start of over 50 different courses including 90-minute diverse sessions – from “Learning to Love Revisions” to “Leonard Cohen’s Artistic Practice as a Songwriter, Poet, and Novelist” – and three-hour intensive workshops – from “How to Build Your Platform” to “Tackling Your Memoir.” In between the course-crammed conference that ran from Feb. 12-16, discussion circles abounded followed by cocktail bashes, a grand fiesta, storytelling and poetry fire hangs and daily yoga wellness offerings. Ohmmm!
It was a balancing act veering from the varied charms of San Miguel’s cobblestone streets – filled with friendly faces, tiled murals, historic architecture, tasty and inexpensive food, traditional crafts and numerous blue-chip art galleries – and then hustling back to hear famously successful writers lobbing their personal opinions and experiences – often brilliant, scary, and even, humorous – on climate change and the fires in LA, the future of AI in literature and education, and the rise in self-publishing and social media opportunities.
Readying myself for my intensive workshop with Jennifer Clement, poet, novelist, memoirist, and the first female international president of PEN, was nerve-racking. I was one of 30 who sent pages to be reviewed during our three-hour morning class at the Hotel Real de Minas in the center of town. Clement turned out to be an excellent instructor and psycho-pump to all her eager students.
Culling my sessions to the essentials, there was able time to commune with San Miguel and a few of her expats from Canada and the U.S. We walked everywhere and a sturdy pair of tennis shoes is de rigueur for the hilly cobblestone streets of SMA. Most of the expats I met were financially comfortable retirees ranging from age 60 to 80 and seriously into some form of artwork with politically liberal leanings. This sizable expat community luxuriates in the perpetual spring weather of SMA (70-75 degrees at midday) and serve as the economic driver to this cultured, clean, and safe city.
Closing the star-studded event was the surprise appearance of Margaret Atwood. A multi-award-winning novelist, Atwood authored The Handmaid’s Tale and The Testaments, among many others. The diminutive, twinkling-eyed Atwood was asked if we are headed toward dystopia and she answered slyly: “Well, I don’t think we’ll get the uniforms.” The applause was palpable.
When Percival Everett was unable to attend because of a medical issue, a communal sigh rang out. However, he appeared via pre-recorded message and joined the crowded ballroom hall for a Zoom Q&A. The recipient of the 2024 National Book Award for Fiction for James, Everett’s groundbreaking book reimagines the life of the slave Jim in The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. Both Atwood’s and Everett’s comments at the conference were recorded and available on YouTube. Check it out.
As my time in San Miguel dwindled, Joan insisted on one last expat experience, where about 40 English speakers flock once a month for familiar comfort food and Bingo Gringo. It was a gas. Although I’m not quite ready to skittle abroad again, when and if that happens, San Miguel de Allende is definitely a contender. Registration for the 2026 Writers Conference is now open. I’ll be there and it’s definitely worth the price of admission.
Beverly Rivera Davis
Letters From Iowans is a part of the Iowa Writers’ Collaborative. We encourage you, our subscribers, to share your perspective in this column. To make your voice heard, use this form to send us your essay:
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