This time I’ve been more present, less encumbered by first time nerves. I’ve been here to appreciate the humor of having to label my dorm room door because the first day at the end of a work week packed full I was too tired to remember which door was mine. (I found it on the third try --Allison will not let me live that one down ;)
I’ve been here to appreciate turning on the light and reading in the middle of the night without worrying about getting my religiously observed 7 hours or waking D who is also logging hours to fuel his next day (and who has the side of the bed with the lone lamp by virtue of keeping later hours and being no less voracious a reader).
I’ve been here to stare at the ceiling getting caught up in the old glow in the dark stickers which appear when the lights are all off to show me an artificial version of the big dipper, a clever trick that makes the room seem like less of the small containment cube it is.
I’ve been here to witness the first time nerves of other people, the palpable thrill when they say at loud what they only admit to themselves about their writing, and when I discover that my new favorite author could well be someone I’ve lead through workshops only hours before.
I’ve been here to eat meals laid out at prescribed times, to get bossed around by a schedule I made myself, to thoroughly enjoy the feeling of camp, and to feel smiley on the inside when a fellow writer declares this the best camp experience she never had as a child.
I’ve been here at the writer’s weekend.
And next year, you could be here too.
Email me to enquire about a spot. email@example.com