They enjoy puzzles and word-play. They’re comfortable taking risks outdoors, exploring new areas based on someone elses clues and encouragement. They want to leave their mark to show they’ve passed through this world. They want to know they are not alone on their adventures, they want to see who has gone before them, even if they never meet them in person.

~

The first draft of Maganda’s Comb was about predation and predators. This draft is shaping up to be about choices – knowing that choices are there, figuring out how to make the right choices, acting on choices, and living with the consequences of choice.

~

KelvinS notes that Choices must be thought through, then Movements must be acted upon. Often we Choose with our actions, without thinking, and allow Thinking to stop our actions….or something close to that. I’m still trying to figure it out… it’s about not overthinking actions, but thinking through choices and acting based on that choice.

Thunderstorms not withstanding, the day progressed very slowly as planes were delayed due to traffic over Boston. The delays were incremental and by the end of the day, I was three hours delayed. Thankfully Blessy was traveling on the same flights and we kept each other company between naps and reading. Really, though, the day was a complete blur punctuated by bone-tiredness and anxiety to get home.

My family picked me up sometime after midnight and we decided to stay in town overnight before heading home. Tired though I was, I really felt a longing to be in Vermont, trudging up the hill and attending lectures. What an incredible experience!

Class of 2010

I hoofed it back down the hill to ship my package and grab a quick lunch of Chicken Ceasar salad. The waitress asked me if I wanted anchovies and I expected little dried bits to be sprinkled on top. I was delighted to see real anchovy filets on the chicken. Delicious and a treat to be sure. I hoofed it back up the hill (wondering if I’ve actually gotten in shape this past week) just in time for Margaret Bechard’s lecture on dialogue which ended in a lively discussion about the ending of Hemmingway’s Hills Like White Elephants. I’m not a Hemmingway fan (please, no stone throwing!), but I have to admit, the use of dialogue and space scenery really was effective… for it’s time period. I doubt a writer in current times could pull something like that off (at least not without a critic referring to the original Hemmingway), especially if they are in a workshop or critique group.

The intensity of last week has definitely tapered off and after lecture and dinner, I was back down the hill trying to cool off with my B&J shake and an excursion into online RP. The brain fry is evident as is the anxiousness to get home. Although there is a part of me that has grown accustomed to the pacing of my life, the ability to move where I want when I want while soaking up the wisdom of my writing elders.

I skipped the grad lectures, unfortunately, feeling the need to catch up on my residency evaluations and write up my study plan. I was scheduled to meet with Martine over lunch, but while waiting for her, I got into an animated discussion with Rita about loss and first publication. We were having such an intense conversation, I completely missed that Martine had come into the building and ended up late for our meeting. Inside I was mortified, but Martine is a gracious, generous woman who was excited about my project and encouraging. She increased my modest proposal which included rewrites, to a full draft of the novel by semester’s end. She not only recommended books for me to read, but genuinely wanted to know about FilAm writing, asking for suggestions on what on my bibliography she should read.

I am tentative about all this – I’m coming into the program with very little experience in the subtleties of children’s writing – but she is so supportive, understanding not only the intuitive nature of my writing process but also my fears of inadequacy. She told me that I’m ‘twin-souled’ with passions in both childrens and nonfiction – and That’s Okay With Her. Being focused and directed has its advantages, but in the correct proportion and at the correct times. Otherwise, the creativity gets stifled. I love that she gets me so well.

I take the afternoon to hone my study plan and add more entries to my residency evaluation. We’re supposed to write an evaluation on each lecture, a minimum of 8, but I’ve attended the minimum and generally feel as though I need to put in a few extra. I don’t think I’ll write them all up though. My brain continues to be too full to process all the information adequately.

Grad student Lynn Acheson’s lecture on the retelling of fairy tales is particularly apt to my study plan and she provides such a plethora of information, I know I’ll need to ask her for a copy of it. Later, I get the chance to hear Louise Hawes (another fairytale writer!), Martine, and Tim Wynne-Jones read. Louise is hopeful that I’ll get the chance to work on my picture books with her and that’s a huge compliment in my book. I need to get the novel done, maybe even some supporting short stories, before I think the PBs will be cool enough to tackle in revision.

I’ve learned that letting a manuscript cool is a good thing – I’ve always been afraid that cooling meant ‘abandonment with denial’ – so I’m hopeful that when the time comes to revise the PBs, I’ll be ready to take on the comments provided to me during my workshop.

Later that evening, I had a nice chat with Sharon Darrow who had graduated from the MFA program also as a dual genre – Poetry and NonFiction. She, like Martine, assured me that my interest in two genres and even variance within those genres didn’t mean I lacked discipline necessarily. Sharon in fact pointed out that if she ever tried to divide her children’s from her adult writing that she would be less of an artist, much like being forced to favor one child over another.

Speaking of children, that evening I gave a reading of my poetry, my perhaps late-in-life child, the one I know least of all, but who seems to keep informing and enriching my writing. The reading went really well – I felt strong and capable – and I even had a chance to help with multivocal pieces created by one of my classmates. Tired but happy, I returned home feeling very full of words and creativity.

I get to work with Martine this semester! It all falls into place -  yesterday, my path could have gone in many different directions: picture books, historical fiction, urban fantasy. But with the selection of Martine as my advisor, there’s no question – urban fantasy. I’m thrilled beyond words! I started writing in the 8th grade because of my love of science fiction and fantasy, but could not find anyone to teach me how to approach the writing. I’ve spent years cobbling together skills to try and get to the writing of fantasy, but always felt I was missing something. Along with being a VCFA graduate and adult fiction writer, Martine specializes in the YA fantasy/mythic fiction genre.

I trotted up the hill anxious to meet with her formally and meet the other students in her group. Two other students are in my workshop group, one of them in my class. We bond happily. After scheduling individual conferences and planning rough outlines of our study plans, I head around to clear up unfinished bits about my financial aid and such. I’m still trying to figure out how the dual program works, but I think that I’ll attend two residencies/semesters in the Children’s program, then two residencies/semesters in the NonFiction program, then go back for a single semester and two residencies in Children’s. It’s going to be a bit mind bending to figure out which genre I’ll do my critical and creative theses. I know I’ll have more questions as time goes on.

I head downtown again with Addy and Blessy, knowing that will mean skipping lunch with the second semester students (who give tips on surviving packet-making) and the first lectures of the day. There’s a nice looseness, though, going downtown and looking for a new place to eat. We settle on Sarducci’s where I have a delicious bowl of red sauce pasta with mussles, scallops, and shrimp. I forgot to take pictures, but there were 7 of us at lunch together, comparing notes on advisors and semester plans. We’re all invigorated, finally feeling a sense of direction and purpose, something to finally work with.

That evening, I’m the first to step up to the podium for our class readings. It was an okay reading of an excerpt from my memior piece, but I didn’t feel terrific about it. I had planned on doing an excerpt from Yellow is for Luck, the YA short story I’d written, but we had a three minute time limit and I found myself editing the poor piece to death to get it to fit in the time allotted. I shouldn’t have done that because by the time the reading started, I’d worked the thing over so much, it felt all wrong. My classmates though are brilliant risk-takers tackling a variety of forms and topics. I’m very happy to be in their company, even for just two semesters.

Workshops have been enlightening but also challenging, my chronic fatigue making itself a nuisance as I’m trying to stay awake for my classmates. Chewing gum is the most effective way I’ve found to stay awake since not even guilt or a sense of professionalism is making it for me. Along with lectures, I try to make as many of the graduate creative readings as I can, seeing what topics and forms the other students tackle, and how expertly they are writing. This the most talented, disciplined, creative group of writers I’ve ever been around and on this particular day, I wonder if I can keep up with them, learn as well as they do.

Sarah Ellis’ lecture on fairy was excellent, getting back to the essence of Fae and pointing out that that to fairy, the human world is a skewed version of the fairy world. A lot of this lecture will affect the novel rework to be sure. In fact, I think this lecture that made me revisit the idea of reworking Maganda’s Comb as a YA novel, that a rework from a single POV might just be the thing to do.

I decide to go home early after our pizza party as a cohort. My brain is shutting down and I feel narcoleptic. I would have liked to stay on campus to find out who my advisor will be, but I ask instead if one of my classmates can drive me back to the Guest House and another classmate to email me my advisor if she notices.

When I got home that night, I call my family and watch Spaceballs. I’ve watched Young Frankenstein this trip and clips from the Producers. There’s something comforting about Mel Brooks for me.

Anyway, this day I decided to take the morning off, do laundry and generally run around downtown for bits and pieces I needed. The laundromat was only a block away and the attendent was willing to let me just wander off while my wash was running. I found the public market a few blocks from there – a darling little farmers market and I knew I was missing real food, my own cooking, when I found myself lusting over fresh veggies stacked for sale stall after stall. To my delight and surprise, there was ethnic food to be found – Ethopian, Mexican, Chinese – plus a stone fire pizza place. Unfortunately it was only 9:30 in the morning, so I wasn’t really feeling up to eating such rich food.

Instead I picked up the requisite bottles of maple syrup for Christmas gifts, a bottle of fresh apple cider and a bagel. After putting my load in the dryer, I headed to main street, wandering to see what was there and ending up at the grocery where I picked up soy milk for the granola I’d found earlier at a deli and some water. I also found St. Augustine’s church, a sweet little Catholic church, gothic on the outside and neatly renovated on the inside. I knew I was going to miss Mass the next day, so I sat awhile, prayed a little, thanked God a lot, then wandered off to find my freshly laundered clothes. It was getting hot again and I was anxious to get back up on campus, when I was invited to lunch by a couple of gals from my cohort.

We dined luxuriously on tacos at the Mexican place – restaurant food being preferable to dorm food by a long shot. I cooled off and felt rejuvenated, especially after grabbing some Ben and Jerry’s on the way back. Up on campus, the day was dedicated to picture books and I felt a bit guilty for not attending the morning sessions since my workshop pieces were all picture books. Lectures and Q&A panels by Jeannette Larson, Sarah Sullivan, Susan Stevens Crummel, and Janet Stevens filled the afternoon. I was struck by how little I know about PBs. They’re deceptively complex, theme, plot, character, and concept all crammed into less than 500 words. These are not fleeting moments pieces like in flash fiction/poetry, but pieces relying on dramatic POV. I’ll be looking at the concepts carefully in regard to my pieces for a long while.

The bookstore yielded treasures, of course – I had hoped to discipline myself, not buying anything here since I’d have to haul it all back home, but I didn’t count on my classmates having books published and available. I toted four PBs, all signed, tokens of good luck for the future. After the BBQ and evening reading, I intended on going home – the planned dance sounded too extroverted for me, but I was convinced to at least show up for a bit. I stayed about an hour and danced – to say it was ‘fun’ simply doesn’t do the time justice. All of us who danced in the dark, glowsticks lighting up our bodies, danced with each other, all tribal and remembering a younger time – 70’s and 80’s music got our bodies moving and we didn’t care that we looked like a bunch of middle schoolers at a dance. After all, we were writers of middle grade books!

The day’s orientations (program, library, and computer lab) were all pretty standard which was difficult from a ’stay awake’ POV. I could tell the trip was starting to catch up with me. The library tour in the afternoon was the most challenging and found me asking the most obscure questions about the databases we would have access to (are there RSS feeds for these databases? Do the PDFs come over with bookmarks and the ability to highlight text?). Work questions really and I later let DH know we could now spy…errr…review other digital libraries and see how our DL interfaces stood in comparison.

The most exciting part of the day was meeting faculty – I had lunch with Marion Dane Bauer, Martine Leavitt and Ellen Howard. Delightful people and all very capable. Marion has been with the program from the start and she very much embodies all the goals and aspirations of the program – part passion for children, part discipline for craft and overall enthusiastic for creativity. I’m not sure that I asked the right ‘interview’ questions. Mostly I wanted to know about each of them, get a feel for their energies and creative focii. I’m pretty sure I’d do well under any of their mentorship.

After the library tour, we had the official welcome to the program and our first look at the entire student body. What a wonderful group! I could tell very much that it was a bonded group and us 1st semester folk were all a bit overwhelmed by all the support and camaraderie we were witnessing. Sharon Darrow, the faculty chair, gave a wonderful speech congratulating us all on being part of the new Vermont College of Fine Arts, an independent arts center. Later, the Firsts got together with the all the faculty and we introduced ourselves. I wish they’d given us a heads up on creating an elevator speech for ourselves. I found mine morphing with each introduction. I think I hit it pretty well by faculty intros, though, getting out not just my name and location, but also my day job and hopes for projects.

After dinner we had our pix taken (oh! I think I forgot to mention that I took pix of our class the other night. I have to wait until I get home before I post it as I left my cables at home) and listened to Thomas Christopher Green tell the story of how a few folks got the crazy idea to go independent a couple of years ago, didn’t realize how naive they were and took on every challenge that came their way with a Can Do attitude. I understand from later conversations that TUI has had a difficult relationship with the VC program, looking more at numbers and money than on quality of experience and craft. Everyone is hopeful that a full arts program can be long-standing and I think that given the success of the programs thus far, they will achieve and exceed their goals in quick measure.

Addendum:

Sharon Darrow distilled the story-making process into two questions – What is? and What if? – I like the What is, part of the equation since often the ‘hero in his natural state’ is overlooked in a lot of craft books. She also reassured us that the stories we need to write, the skills we need to write it, and the support we need to get through the process will all be there for us – Go for it! Ultimately, as so many others have said, she urged us to Trust the Process.

I was due to meet my cohort at 1pm and I felt the need for new clothes and the few things I couldn’t pack in my carry-on. I made the classic stress mistakes over and over that morning – bought clothes at the first boutique I could find (some on sale, though) and they were really /bright/ tourist colors. Colors I love to wear, but then I felt /really/ conspicuous walking around with the ‘natives’ in their muted colors. The flip flops I bought hurt my feet and kept slipping off, but at $15, I know I can’t just toss them (that and they’re darned cute with the pink and the beads).

I wandered in search of distilled water for the CPAP and suncreen (maybe a hat too and hairpins and oh, while I’m at it, some body soap – only Dial soap at the guesthouse). I passed a few indy bookstores (three in a one block radius which I think totally rocks) plus cute boutiques and kids shops. The town reminds me a bit of a cross between Moscow, ID and Crawford, NE. Small, yet cultural, yet rural, yet quirky.

I found the Ben and Jerry’s (still haven’t visited) and it looks like in lieu of Starbucks, the New England Culinary Institute is in full gear with a restaurant, a bakery and I think a deli. There’s also a really cool bead shop on the corner (drool) and a nifty little metaphysical shop around and down the corner. I felt really good walking into that shop. Reminded me of our old shop, back in the day, except a little smaller and a little better selection of books.

Lunch with the cohort was fab – being able to finally put faces to names on the ‘net. It was mostly ‘net forum folks (which makes sense, since we really didn’t have a way to get to the others) but that was 12 of the 27 souls in our class. We made the first of a series of introductions over the last few days (goodness, I wasn’t warned I needed an elevator speech!) and overall, a really nice group of people. We talked mostly about travel adventures and the heat and how nervous and anxious we all were.

After lunch, I opted out of window shopping and went home for a nap. A couple of hours later I walked up the hill, which isn’t bad – a 20 min walk is all. It’s a bit like walking from our old ‘A’ street house in Moscow to the top of the hill where the classrooms start in earnest at UI. Dinner was an adventure into the past – dorm food! Although the food was quite a bit better than when I was at WSU…but still definitely food service type food.

After dinner some of us hung out in the lounge (the only AC room on the first floor) and played a game called Snatch. It was fun just hanging out trying to find cool words among the letters thrown and gathered on the table. I’m finding myself painfully shy and I’m learning to accept that’s who I am. But I did play, which was fun, even if I wasn’t very gregarious.

Then came a meeting with the grad assistants and more introductions. What struck me the most about the meeting was how often they talked about going past comfort zones and crashing at some point in the middle. I’m definitely not looking forward to that and will be doing all I can to avoid or ease through it without a big crying jag. I’m too far away from home to manage that by myself even with the supportive staff. Perhaps I’m being too cautious, but I know how bad it can get for me and that’s just not a space I want to visit over this residency.

So, who did I meet? Dawn, Sarah, Matt, Lee, Simon, Linda, Mikki, Blessy (who I’d met in Bellevue last Spring at conference), Kari, Robin, Katie, Maha, and Lindsay. Lindsay was the one I introduced to the others at the icebreaker that night and my deep dark secret I told her is that I’d been married 19 years and had distrusted my future husband on first sight. This amused her greatly.

The upside to the evening was definitely the arrival of my luggage and the helpful Katie and Robin who drove me back to my guesthouse with it. We missed B&J’s which closed moment before we arrived. I did manage to get Skype to work and it was really sweet to see my family before completely crashing.

Thankfully, my family took me to the airport shuttle first thing in the morning. It was so good to ‘launch’ from their arms, filled with their love and good wishes – not to mention the chocolate and other treats sent along by my friends. I dozed on the way down to Seattle, missing the usual sights – the casino, the slough, the Everett Mall, the Shipcanal Bridge. All beautiful in their own way, but honestly, after been so stressed for so long getting ready, I needed the rest.

Rest has definitely been the watch word on this trip. Rest when I can, where I can.

We arrived at Seattle International right on time and I had little trouble with getting my bag checked, and only a little more trouble getting through TSA. I’ve gotten used to having my CPAP checked everytime.

At the gate, I met RebeccaV, a graduating classmate who I met last Spring. It was great to know someone on the flight, even if we didn’t get to sit together. We were an hour delayed in leaving and that cascaded throughout. We ended up circling over Newark due to a backup of in-coming planes and then our connecting flight to VT was delayed an additional two hours. It’s no wonder then that our luggage didn’t make it!

I got a bit of work done, though, finishing notes on a poetry chapbook review (that I have yet to complete, and finally seeing Harry Potter IV. Otherwise, I dozed or chatted with Rebecca when we were in Newark. I finally arrived at my guesthouse at 3am, exhausted, but happy to finally be in Vermont. I was surprised about the heat and humidity though. It reminded me of landing in Manila at midnight. I had just enough energy to call DH and put my CPAP together.

After weeks of preparations and many nights and days thinking that this was all a crazy idea, too torturous to contemplate, I had arrived. I still wonder about the decision to come…which should be an awful thing to admit, but I’m also learning to be honest with my emotions when they come up. It’s a little about feeling unworthy of taking all of this time for writing and a lot about wondering if I have enough ideas and hutspah to actually get something useful accomplished…

Useful. Huh.

That’s what’s been hanging me up, I think, that there’s still a part of my that thinks writing isn’t “useful” ie. “practical” and that coming here is the ultimate indication of my own selfishness.

They’ve told us in our orientation – which I’ll write about soon – that we’ll all be asked to stretch and move past our boundaries. And in this case, I’m more than willing to get past this continuous feeling of “unusefulness” that plagues me. I just hope the process doesn’t include the huge crying jag that they also warn us will inevitably happen.