I'm back from Seton Hill University's Writing Popular Fiction MFA program residency and avoiding the mountain of laundry that needs to be done if I plan to leave the house tomorrow.
Residency was, as usual awesome. I feel like I spent the last week walking around in a big bubble of love. There's something wonderful about being part of a community with a shared interest, being appreciated for what you have to contribute, and being surrounded by people who are looking out for you.
I'm a terrible scatterbrain and I tend to leave things behind, like purses and notebooks with the only copies of current drafts in them. Thank goodness for the students, who essentially serve as my keepers while I'm there. I really miss them when I come home, and not just for keeping track of my shit. The conversation, from thoughtful matters of craft to well, the opposite (in the eye!) is addictive.
Both my Loose Id editor and one of the Quad are students in the program, and that adds another dimension of awesome to the whole thing. I was told in no uncertain terms that I need to be writing more -- specifically, more for LI and more novel-length work. Yes ma'am!
It's hard to express what it felt like to hear that, and how it felt when a student approached me after my presentation to say that one of the exercises helped him figure out how to solve a problem that had him stalled on his novel.
I'm a late bloomer, it seems. It took me a long time be any good at much of anything. And then, for a long time after that -- years -- I felt like I was doing good work, and busting my ass to get it out into the world, with no discernible results. Nobody seemed to notice at all. It was really awful and I was certain that if I were even remotely sane I'd pay attention to what the world was trying to tell me and go be a cook or a computer programmer or something.
But I didn't. I kept on trying and things went from bad to worse. But then, I got this teaching gig at Seton Hill (thank you, Steven) and a student there turned me on to Loose Id. And in both cases, it felt as the wall between myself and the people I needed to communicate with just disappeared.
The last few years have been amazing. I hope my streak lasts. I finally get to do what I've been trying to do all along. Not just write, but write _for_ readers, who write me back. Not just say what I know, but be heard, and listen, and think. Conversation.
:)
