(I think I already told you that I missed my second workshop as a result of the large crevasses that have opened up in my brain and have been consuming entire mornings along with untethered pets, small children, trailer parks and the occasional baton twirler.)
Of course that wasn't the last time I fucked up during this wonderful college flashback. You've heard me frequently wonder aloud about what it was that possessed me to go tiptoeing through the academic tulips (trust me it was NOT so I could write this blog) and my consistent gaffes have only served to shine a brighter light on my ill-advised re-entry into this rare and tempered atmosphere.
That's not to say that it hasn't been fun (just to work a powerful double negative in before my writing begins to be scrutinized for such laziness). These last few days in particular have been full of communal silliness and laughter, with everybody, participants and faculty alike, blowing off the collective steam that's built up over the last long week. We've had jam sessions at the bar, from which I've steered clear since even 100% of my most intense concentration has not been enough to keep me from screwing up what I'm here for. There's been skits and other group merriment. There's also been the workshoppin, which lasted until noon today, more lectures and readings, and the selection of and introduction to our mentors, whom we will each be working with over the course of the year to fulfill our MFA responsibilities. I'm pretty sure I listed those somewhat daunting responsibilities in the first post.
And now, post-haste I must be on my way. Should I chance upon some profound and conclusive summary to the residency experience that will aid in your assessment of whether or not such a program is the right scrip to improve your writing, you can trust I won't keep it a secret. Meanwhile I can only hope that those of you who are writers of fiction, poetry, non-fiction or hopefully some subversive genre-bending creation seek to improve your work by whatever means practical, affordable and eminently enjoyable! A low-res MFA program is certainly one way to go, and we'll be able to tell how well it works right here in Limboland! Where the men are lemurs and the sheep are wildebeests!
Happy trails to you... hope you caught a flight out of there and are back with your family. BTW, my mother, the "other" MSA Marin County artist, is anxious to read your book. She moved to Carlsbad, CA a few years ago but makes frequent trips to Marin. I can't wait to find out what an 82 year old artist thinks of the book. She's still active, participating in juried shows and teaching. All good things ~~ Alynn Norton
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