Writing Lab Returns

This fall I am taking time off from teaching my regular load of classes. I am training myself to avoid saying, “I’m not working.” I am working. I’m getting up every morning and writing…except when I’m on my way to Chehalis (so far, every week) to see my mother, or to attend a conference. I am working –feverishly — on the unassailable rewrite of my novel. Encouraged by the three days at LitFuse, a total immersion in poetry, I’m also working on a new, long poem.

One Monday each month (yesterday, as it turned out) I’m meeting with two other novelists to look at pages and talk about how one gets what is in one’s head into a story.

On Tuesday afternoons, I’ll be meeting with colleagues at the college for Writing Lab. It’s our fourth year — or is it our fifth? There are only a stalwart few of us, staff and faculty (a couple writing teachers) and alum, but we meet every week and write for 45 minutes or an hour, and then we spend a few minutes reading aloud what we’ve drafted. At the end of the year, we gather at Under the Red Umbrella (a local eatery) to celebrate. In these ways the work progresses.

Here is a quote I plan to share with the lab today. It is from Louise DeSalvo’s Writing as a Way of Healing:

“I didn’t know that if you want to write, you must follow your desire to write. And that your writing will help you unravel the knots in your heart. I didn’t know that you could write simply to take care of yourself, even if you have no desire to publish your work. I didn’t know that if you want to become a writer, eventually you’ll learn through writing — and only through writing — all you need to know about your craft. And that while you’re learning, you’re engaging in soul-satisfying, deeply nurturing labor. I didn’t know that if you want to write and don’t, because you don’t feel worthy enough or able enough, not writing will eventually begin to erase who you are.” (31)

“Soul-satisfying, deeply nurturing labor.” That’s what I’m engaged in this fall.

 

Dean Young

I came across this line in my reading today. It’s from Dean Young’s The Art of Recklessness:

“But IT’S OKAY TO ENJOY WRITING! Poetry need not be a distillation of suffering!”

image from Tumblr: http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m4rcc6AO3J1rx3kcjo1_500.jpg

LitFuse

This weekend I am off to LitFuse in Tieton, Washington. Dorianne Laux, who wrote the introduction to my new book, Sparrow, is among the featured poets. Here’s a poem, which I’ve cut and pasted from The Poetry Foundation.

Dust

BY DORIANNE LAUX

Someone spoke to me last night,
told me the truth. Just a few words,
but I recognized it.
I knew I should make myself get up,
write it down, but it was late,
and I was exhausted from working
all day in the garden, moving rocks.
Now, I remember only the flavor —
not like food, sweet or sharp.
More like a fine powder, like dust.
And I wasn’t elated or frightened,
but simply rapt, aware.
That’s how it is sometimes —
God comes to your window,
all bright light and black wings,
and you’re just too tired to open it.
*
Dorianne Laux, “Dust” from What We Carry. Copyright © 1994 by Dorianne Laux. Reprinted by permission of BOA Editions, Ltd.

Source: What We Carry (BOA Editions, Ltd., 1994)

Dorianne Laux

The Potting Shed

P1040152This past weekend my husband and I traveled to Leavenworth to spend a couple days with his brothers and three of their cousins (the “girl cousins,” as they called themselves). Spending all of my time around 20-somethings and 14-year-olds, as I seem to these days, it was a treat for me to be the youngest. (“Our new cousin!” I was called, although Bruce and I have been married 28 years.) We arrived late, as getting our daughter Annie moved to Western (WWU) was a priority, and we left early, as our youngest had doings we needed to attend to. But it was splendid.

I promised to post some pictures of my writing cabin, inside and out. I have spent 5 hours out here this morning. Now it’s time for a shower and a trip to Bellingham (Annie forgot to take a raincoat). Tonight, I drive to Chehalis to spend some time with Mom. Having written this morning, I know I’m anchored, like a plant, sinking roots into soil. I’ll be back Wednesday morning.

In the meantime, here’s a poem from Rumi. Whatever you’re doing this morning, be inspired!

This being human is a guesthouse,
every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture.
Still, treat each guest honorably,
he may be clearing you out
for some new delight.
The dark thoughts, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.
Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.

-Merlana Jelal-uddin Rumi

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