As Todd and I were walking to the studio this morning, the
sky layered with clouds and light from the sun rising behind them, we both
relished the beauty of the mountains in the distance. Todd said, “Maybe it’s
the Irish reaction in me, but I feel like I’m already mourning the loss of this
place.” So it begins.
5 more days of precious studio time. Every minute in the
studio will count this week. It will be a race with ourselves to get as much
done as we can, knowing we won’t get it all done.
Yesterday, Sunday, was a mixture of productiveness and
practicality. Only two meals: brunch and dinner, so that rearranged the day a
bit. In the morning after breakfast, I spent time in the library with the gas
fireplace, letting the warm heat dry my hair, reading two books I brought with
me, Into Such Holes…, which I wrote
about yesterday, and Late Wife by
Claudia Emerson. The various structures of their narratives give me ideas for
my own, and the simplicity in which they write also appeals to me.
After a few hours, it was time for my conference with Eamon
in the library. He strolled in and we enjoyed an hour conversation about my
genealogy manuscript and the twelve poems that he read. He offered such
thoughtful suggestions and genuine encouragement for my project. He gave me
some fine detail edits about specific words and lines, but he also looked at
the project as a whole, giving me ideas about structure (of the individual
poems and the manuscript) and further writing. Todd has given and continues to
give great feedback, as have quite a few other poet friends, but it was pivotal
for me to get insight from Eamon and in this space. I felt light as air after
that conference.
I came down to earth quickly with a rumbling stomach, so I
inhaled my leftover Chinese food and waited for Todd to finish with his artistic
conversation with Connie. Then, it was time for the practical: laundry. We
rolled our suitcase full of clothes to the Laundromat, and rehashed our day to
the tune of the spin cycle and tumbling clothes. We attempted a long walk as the
day was warmer than usual, but spitting rain drove us back into the world of
washing.
After a dinner of BBQ ribs and BBQ tempeh, it was time to
cram for the evening’s reading. Six of us resident writers were reading from
our various projects in front of the rest of the residents—much like the artist
slides we saw last Wednesday night. The lineup included a short story, a tv
pilot, and four eclectic poetry sets. Kat, the screenwriter, gave a few of us
parts to read, so that was quite fun. I really enjoyed reading to these new
friends, to hearing their reactions afterwards. Many of them don’t hear poetry
often, so they come to the reading fresh, but they are also highly engaged as
artists of different mediums. So, an unusually exciting reading.
We were too excited after the reading, so Eamon, Scott
(another resident poet), Todd, and I went to the one pub open in the town for a
celebratory drink. We chatted about poetry and our reading, Poetry itself, and
our various projects and histories. It was a perfect cap to the day. Such good
conversations of an evening really set the tone for work. And here I am, taking
these last five days by the horn and having my way with them.
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