|New snow on the ground and the Maverick Writing Studios in the background. I am in the third window from the left on the second floor.|
There is something fantastic about being able to roll out of bed, throw on a jacket, gloves, hat, snow shoes and just go. I've warned the few friends I've made that I will be in my pajamas for the entire two weeks. Don't mind me. The freedom to not have to prepare for the world, for life, is definitely a highlight to a residency. No driving, no work, no errands, no make-up, no cooking, and my worldly to do's are shoved in the back of my over-sized suitcase not to be dealt with until I return. I wake up thinking about my writing. I fall asleep thinking about my writing. During the day, if I am not writing, I am speaking to someone about writing, about art. It is all a beautifully odd luxury.
Throughout the day there are footsteps in the hall outside my studio and my instincts prepare me for someone to knock on my door. When there is no knock I remember and relax. It reminds me of healing from a bad breakup, a bit of post-traumatic stress disorder due to a lifetime of 40-hour+ work weeks and neglecting your art. You don't know the severity of your disorder until you've peeled yourself away from the cause.
Yesterday I wrote, read, and researched from 11a until 10:30p. Yes, nearly twelve hours. It's hard to describe what this feels like, except to say that I was still full of energy even after my new painter friend and I cracked open my bottle of Bulleit whiskey in the Red Mill lounge after working all day. We drank and spoke about our jobs and family and, of course, our projects. It was almost midnight when I got back to my room at Kowalsky House. I took a shower and was still wide awake so decided to write more. Why not? Not having a set schedule is another beautiful aspect about a residency. Now is not the time to fight my creative energies and so I go with my flow, giving in to whatever I want to do no matter what the hour. I wrote until 3am.