One week changes the landscape drastically.

Today was the writer's craft talk led by Iowa Writer's Workshop director, Lan Samantha Chang.  In the cozy Mason House Library she spoke about how good fiction captures the vastness of human experience and sets rules for itself only to break them.  She reminded us to always consider emotional scope, reviewed Keats' theory on "negative capability," and ended with a discussion of Alice Munro's, The Beggar Maid.   I got an excellent reading list and, as always, relished being in the classroom again.

Afterwards, Esmerelda and I layered up, braved the snow, and walked up the hill to Johnson State College.  The walk up was gorgeous (and freezing) and at the top was the quaintest little campus anyone ever saw.  I'm sure the fact that it was dusted in snow added to its appeal.  Of course, being the nerds we are, we headed straight for the library.  If you're ever traveling and writing or find yourself at a residency in a new town, I highly suggest checking out any local libraries or college campuses.  As artists in residence we're able to check out books and use their facilities--another residency perk.  I roamed the stacks and took notes.  And yet another residency perk: the extra bandwidth and solitude allows the imagination and creative energy to bulk up.  It's amazing what creeps in when you give it space to breathe.  We plan to make our way back to campus to get some work done tomorrow.

Johnson Elementary School just below JSC.  I mean, how cute is that?

Getting ready to nerd out at the library.

I think all the residents are getting a little studio fever.  When we came off the mountain we skipped lunch and headed to a cafe with free wifi for a change of scenery.  There were several other artists in residence hiding out in the corners of the cafe.  It was nice to get away from the routine for a bit.  I'm sure we'll be back.

The writing is going better today.  Thank you for all the positive vibes.  I think they are working.  At least for today.

I am at the half-way mark.  I still have whiskey.

Entrance to the Maverick Writing Studios and new snow.

I’ve been fighting a damn cold since, if you can believe it, the day I left San Francisco.  Its timing was impeccable.  I managed to stave it off with homeopathic syrup and tea infused with garlic, lemon, and ginger, but it’s trying hard to take me under.  I slammed Tylenol PM last night and woke up just in time for lunch today at noon.  I considered my studio afterwards, but decided to head back to bed with a dose of DayQuil and The Best American Short Stories 2013.  I slept all day.

Last night there was a reading at the Red Mill.  Poets, creative nonfiction, and fiction writers who have been here for two weeks read from their work and it was fantastic.  So talented, their work so brave.  There were poems about love and post-partum depression, prose about a mother’s suicide, a lesbian murder mystery, and an ode to VSC.   A few readers thanked the crowd for helping them finish something they hadn’t been able to back home.  I am still contemplating if I will read next week.  Of course, I hear my own advice to our students, “Read!  It’s muscle memory.  Practice!”  I will keep you posted.  

The common area at Kowalsky House.  My painter friend, Esmerelda, and a night cap.

I sat with a wonderful group of women last night at dinner.  My original group from the airport has grown to include another poet and sculptor, one from North Carolina, the other from Pennsylvania.   Have I mentioned the food here is delicious?  I’ve already had to change my eating habits from the first few days because I was definitely coming back home with an extra ten pounds.  The fresh baked bread and hunks of cheese get me every time.  Last night they served a seafood stew with mussels, shrimp, and calamari over rice (my wife would have loved it!), made even better when the new sculptor busted out a bottle of red wine and shared it with the table.  We spoke of home ownership and the trauma of selling and buying, Dutch tulips, homeopathic remedies, Brenda Hillman and Bob Hass, and of course, always, our families and creative work. 

Everyone here has left something behind.  Jobs, school, husbands, wives, pets, children.   Many are current MFA students or recent MFA graduates.  Many are university teachers still grading papers before being able to fully commit to their Vermont experience.  The artists with families really inspire me.  They talk about balancing their artistic lives with their parental duties, about their children and spouses encouraging them to pursue their dreams, about how doing so actually makes them better parents.  I think of my friend Sara and all the other artists with children, young and old, and have so much respect for their dedication.  Couldn’t it all just slip away in the bustle of other commitments? 

Not really. 

These artists are 100% dedicated to their work and it is a magical thing to be in conversation with them, to discuss their artistic goals, to share mine, to believe that I belong here among them.  Here is another gift of being at a residency.  To understand the kind of commitment we all have to our art and the professional level to which it is (or will be) achieved blows me away.  It is this community building I imagine the people who create and support these types of environments want to encourage.  It lifts us up, makes us believe it is all possible, demands that we keep going.  

The Mason House Library

The Mason House Library where the writer's craft talk will be held on Friday.