Well, I'm back from my first residency at Goddard College's MFA program, a week on the peninsula in Port Townsend, WA. That's why I was on the flight mentioned in my previous post.
I was just about there:
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It was a great setting, and feels like a good decision. There's talk of Goddard being transformative, and I'm hopeful. I don't think I have a goal beyond that right now. I don't think I need one.
It was an intense week, sleeping little, attending workshops with a fervor I haven't in years, and spending time in the company of a diverse group of writers, poets, playwrites and other artists working in many styles, all at various stages of their creative experience.
That was perhaps the most fabulous part, meeting my new peeps, sharing bland meals and conversation that was anything but. I probably even gushed a little once I crept from my shell.
My biggest problem was scoring coffee for the pot in my room, an old non-commissioned officer's cabin at Fort Worden, the site where they filmed An Officer and a Gentleman. I think I traipsed across the territory where Lou Gossett put Richard Gere through his paces on the way to poetry readings and to tug one slim poem from my notebook to share. Maybe more next time. Maybe I'll write more poetry, an unexpected by-product.
The shop on the fort grounds didn't seem to have an adequate supply for their own needs, so they sold me take-out-soup containers full to get me by a few days at a time since I was waking up on central time, and I need a cup at my side for early a.m. writing.
It's a little daunting, the tasks at hand, the reading, the writing requirements, the commitment, but time spent to a purpose is more worthwhile than time spent and it is all about the journey, right?