Hello, world. We've just passed the half-way point here at the 2014 Clarion West Writers Workshop. It is hot outside for Seattle and I am not used to this stifling heat so I am drinking a cold beer (Obsidian Stout from Deschutes Brewery) and sitting in a basement (have I said too much?) trying to write my fourth week story.
There's a paper cutout of a gray turtle taped to the wall.
There's not much else to say. This is an amazing experience. I am in awe of everything all the time. They're feeding me well. I'm drinking a lot (both alcohol and water). I sleep on the lower bunk of a bunk bed. I brought two fans from home. When I leave I will probably be lonely because there is always somebody doing something and I haven't taken enough advantage of that yet. Later, will the quiet unman me? Stay tuned.
There is a lot of work to do here. Sometimes I nap. Often I nap. Sometimes I feel old and out of touch. I stare off into space. I read crazy wonderful prose and think about why it works and why it doesn't. I formulate opinions and express them. I eat. Things happen. Time contracts, expands. I make a fancy salad.
The hand crank on my window broke off. That is the worst.
So you see, everything is fine. Situation normal. I am working on my third short story out of five, in the basement, with an ice cold bottle of beer and Colonel Mustard. I am surrounded by clever folks. I am possibly going mad.
And that about sums it up through week three.