I now have just three Hollins days left before I fly home to real life on Friday.
How happy these six weeks have been. The daily early morning walks, two or three times around the 1.75 mile perimeter of this beautiful, pastoral campus with fellow writers Candice and Elizabeth and whoever else cares to join us. Stimulating classes with my seven creative writing graduate students, each one doing her best to meet my challenge of drafting an entire 15,000-word chapter book in a month: two have turned theirs in to me already. Weekly one-on-one meetings with most of them, sometimes in my office, sometimes curled up on the couch in the third floor lounge in Swanannoa, sometimes over a meal, sometimes while eating ice cream. Evening talks several times a week by the greats of our profession - Candace Fleming, Han Nolan, fairy tale scholar Jack Zipes - as well as emerging new voices. Reconnecting with so many dear friends from my past.
During this six week span, I wrote the entire draft of my spelling bee book, received probing editorial comments on it, leaped into revision mode, and emailed it off to my editor this morning, with a somewhat feeble "Ta-dah!" but a "Ta-dah" nonetheless. I worked through the copy-edited manuscript of my Nora ant farm book. I sent the fifteen copy-edited chapters of my Ethics and Children's Literature collection to the contributors for their final approval. A slacker, I have not been!
Yet, despite many, many hours spent writing, teaching, and talking to students, it's been an enormously restorative, even restful, six weeks for me. I eat my easy-peasy meals in the Hollins cafeteria or cut up a farmers' market peach topped with Greek yogurt, a handful of blueberries, and a drizzle of honey. I have only the clothes I brought with me in my carry-on luggage. I am far away from so many cares.
Come Friday, I'll have to deal with the leak that ruined the downstairs bathroom ceiling at home while I was away. I'll have to figure out if I can really live on the amount of money I can earn with my pen. There are people there who need me. I may even have to cook a meal or two!
My dear wise friend Billie pointed out to me that if I stayed at Hollins longer, it would become real life, and then it would become messy, too. Real life is messy. There's no getting around that. In real life, real people need us, and real leaks cause real damage leading to real repairs followed by real (and really expensive!) mold mitigation (as I know too well from how I spent the first half of June before departing for Hollins).
But that's okay. Real life also has a grandbaby to hold, who turned five months old while I was away, and who can now laugh and roll over from back to tummy. Real life has my summer women's book group at church, and hikes with my friend Rowan. Real life has lots more writing in it, and I do love to write. Real life is messy, yes, but there is sweetness in the glorious mess of it, too.
Tuesday, July 29, 2014
Friday, July 18, 2014
Summer Bucket List
1. I absolutely MUST spend some time writing at my new favorite coffee shop, Cups, in the Grandin neighborhood of Roanoke.
2. I absolutely MUST have a grilled cheese sandwich at the little place around the corner: Pops. Not one but TWO of my students have told me this.
4. I so want to attend the playwriting-for-children workshop led by Nicole Adkins, and hear the talk "Mirrors of Antiquity in Modern Fantasy" by Bryn Mawr classics professor Benjamin Stevens, and the keynote address of our Twentieth Annual Francelia Butler Student Conference on Children's Literature by legendary fairy tale scholar Jack Zipes.
5. I want to sit writing at least one more time in a rocking chair on the verandah in the quad, and in the reading loft which you reach by ascending a tiny spiral staircase in the library, and on the cozy couch in the third floor lounge in Swannanoa Hall.
I think I'm going to be able to do all of these things! I already have plans with two students for an outing to write at Cups on Saturday morning, followed by grilled cheese at Pops. Lisa, Hillary, and I are meeting for a critique group session tonight; I suspect that a margarita may be involved as well. I've blocked out time for all those delicious talks in my planner. As for writing, I do believe I can write on the verandah today, and in the reading loft on Sunday, and in the Swannonoa lounge several times next week.
And if there is anything else that clamors for inclusion on my summer bucket list, I may just have to see if I can return here to teach in some future Hollins term, and start my list all over again.
Friday, July 11, 2014
"When You Come to a Fork, Take It"
Yogi Berra is remembered as much for his "Yogiisms" as for his distinguished career in Major League Baseball: sayings such as "It ain't over till it's over" and "You can observe a lot by watching." One of my favorites is: "If you come to a fork in the road, take it."
Lately I've been coming upon lots of little forks in the road of my daily life, opportunities to do activity A or activity B. Should I accept a new friend's invitation to go with her on a Saturday morning to the farmers' market in downtown Roanoke, or devote the day to writing my chapter book? Which chapter book: should I be working on my spelling bee book or on my third Nora-with-the-ant-farm book, both with looming due dates? Should I go with my friend Rachel to Williamsburg (on the other side of the state) for opening night of Julius Ceasar, where her son worked on the set in summer stock? Or use the time to catch up on some work before two girlfriends from our University of Maryland days descend on us for a delicious reunion?
Inspired by Yogi Berra, rather than trying to decide which tine of the fork I should take, these days I'm trying to find a way to take the whole fork. Which one should I do? Both!
The farmers' market/writing choice was really a no-brainer. Get real, Miss Claudia! You already know that an hour a day of writing is plenty! Write for your hour, write HARD for your hour, and then head off to buy South Carolina peaches (so good!) and have a Bloody Mary with lunch in the courtyard of a Creole restaurant. With the book writing: the spelling bee book is shorter and due sooner, and I was stuck on the other one, anyway. So I'll do both, but first this one, then that one. For this weekend's fun, I'm so glad I decided to do all of it. I had a 30-hour jaunt to Williamsburg where I saw beautiful scenery in Shenandoah National Park, walked in the rain down Duke of Gloucester Street in Colonial Williamsburg with my author friend Brenda who lives in the area, had dinner with Brenda and my wife-and-husband librarian friends Noreen and Alan, saw the play (focusing as much on the ingenious set as on the famous speeches), and am now back at Rachel's house awaiting the arrival of our friends Robin and Lori. As for the work I meant to do, it will get done. Work always does. In fact, I might take a few whacks at it right now.
When in doubt, do both. While no one wants a life that is uncomfortably crammed, I want to err on the side of saying yes to it all, stuffing each day full of joy, love, and beauty. Just about all of my regrets from the first sixty years have been not for things I did, but for things I didn't do. In Act III of my life, I want to grab the whole fork and eat my way through the full buffet of the glorious possibilities laid out before me in this, my one and only life.
Lately I've been coming upon lots of little forks in the road of my daily life, opportunities to do activity A or activity B. Should I accept a new friend's invitation to go with her on a Saturday morning to the farmers' market in downtown Roanoke, or devote the day to writing my chapter book? Which chapter book: should I be working on my spelling bee book or on my third Nora-with-the-ant-farm book, both with looming due dates? Should I go with my friend Rachel to Williamsburg (on the other side of the state) for opening night of Julius Ceasar, where her son worked on the set in summer stock? Or use the time to catch up on some work before two girlfriends from our University of Maryland days descend on us for a delicious reunion?
Inspired by Yogi Berra, rather than trying to decide which tine of the fork I should take, these days I'm trying to find a way to take the whole fork. Which one should I do? Both!
The farmers' market/writing choice was really a no-brainer. Get real, Miss Claudia! You already know that an hour a day of writing is plenty! Write for your hour, write HARD for your hour, and then head off to buy South Carolina peaches (so good!) and have a Bloody Mary with lunch in the courtyard of a Creole restaurant. With the book writing: the spelling bee book is shorter and due sooner, and I was stuck on the other one, anyway. So I'll do both, but first this one, then that one. For this weekend's fun, I'm so glad I decided to do all of it. I had a 30-hour jaunt to Williamsburg where I saw beautiful scenery in Shenandoah National Park, walked in the rain down Duke of Gloucester Street in Colonial Williamsburg with my author friend Brenda who lives in the area, had dinner with Brenda and my wife-and-husband librarian friends Noreen and Alan, saw the play (focusing as much on the ingenious set as on the famous speeches), and am now back at Rachel's house awaiting the arrival of our friends Robin and Lori. As for the work I meant to do, it will get done. Work always does. In fact, I might take a few whacks at it right now.
When in doubt, do both. While no one wants a life that is uncomfortably crammed, I want to err on the side of saying yes to it all, stuffing each day full of joy, love, and beauty. Just about all of my regrets from the first sixty years have been not for things I did, but for things I didn't do. In Act III of my life, I want to grab the whole fork and eat my way through the full buffet of the glorious possibilities laid out before me in this, my one and only life.
Thursday, July 10, 2014
Calling on My Peeps
I now have a first full draft of the fourth book in the Franklin School Friends series. (Previous titles: Kelsey Green, Reading Queen; Annika Riz, Math Whiz; Izzy Barr, Running Star.) This is a spelling bee book, starring Simon Ellis, who has been Kelsey's rival in the reading contest, Annika's rival in the Sudoku contest, and the rival of Cody (soon to star in book number five) in a race. The challenge for me in this current book is to make good-at-everything-Simon a sympathetic character with whom readers can identify, to find the vulnerabilities in the kid seemingly without any.
With a full draft done, it's time to call on my peeps to give me wise counsel that will help me write the next draft.
My son Gregory had already helped me enormously in writing the first chapter, where Simon is trying to find out what the longest word in the whole world is. When I was growing up, playground wisdom was that it was antidisestablishmentarianism. I knew that different times might generate different answers, so I asked Gregory what the longest word was taken to be when he was growing up. Without missing a beat, he told me, the syllables tripping with ease off his tongue:
pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis. !!!
That went into the book.
Now I needed his help even more. I had decided that I simply could not keep writing realistic fiction about contemporary kids in school settings without having some kid sometime play a video game. So I wrote two video game scenes in Simon's book: one where his best friend, Jackson, is upset that Simon beats him; one where Jackson is equally upset that Simon lets him win.
The trouble is: I have never played a single video game in my entire life.
Luckily for me, Gregory has.
I sent him my first try at the scenes, and he sent me back pages of kindly worded but sweeping critique:"In the beginning of the game Xalik and Satu are fighting each other, but then right afterwards they go to trying to find a treasure chest. It is unlikely that a game would have the players switch objectives like this."
I rewrote the scenes and sent them back to him. His verdict: much better, but. . . . He sent me links to websites where I could learn more about game design, the difference between 2D and 3D games, game settings, game moves. My heart sank. Finally I threw myself on his mercy: "Gregory, could you maybe write just a couple of little details I could put in that would be accurate and real and engaging?" He did so within the hour. I feel a bit guilty about letting him ghost-write these lines for me, but then I remembered that Maud Hart Lovelace, author of my most beloved Betsy-Tacy books, had her husband, Delos, write the football scenes for her in the high school stories.
Next I emailed my brilliant former grad student Sara Goering to vet my Scrabble scene; she is a Scrabble-playing fiend. I emailed my philosophy department colleague Graham Oddie, parent of a now-grown-up violinist, to ask what scales Simon's teacher would ask him to play at his lesson:
Jessica, sitting with her dad in Reutlingen, Germany, sent me this: "Now let me hear a d major scale, two octaves, and the major and minor arpeggios."
I've sent the entire book off to my Boulder writing group friend Leslie O'Kane for what I know will be enormously insightful comments on its overall shape and pacing. My Hollins students have asked to read it, so I've emailed it off to them, too. Two Hollins faculty colleagues, Lisa Rowe Fraustino and Hillary Homzie, are working through it in a little manuscript exchange conducted over margaritas with fabulous Palestinian or Thai food made by Lisa's husband, AKA "The Cutie."
Yay for the village that it takes to write a book.
With a full draft done, it's time to call on my peeps to give me wise counsel that will help me write the next draft.
My son Gregory had already helped me enormously in writing the first chapter, where Simon is trying to find out what the longest word in the whole world is. When I was growing up, playground wisdom was that it was antidisestablishmentarianism. I knew that different times might generate different answers, so I asked Gregory what the longest word was taken to be when he was growing up. Without missing a beat, he told me, the syllables tripping with ease off his tongue:
pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis. !!!
That went into the book.
Now I needed his help even more. I had decided that I simply could not keep writing realistic fiction about contemporary kids in school settings without having some kid sometime play a video game. So I wrote two video game scenes in Simon's book: one where his best friend, Jackson, is upset that Simon beats him; one where Jackson is equally upset that Simon lets him win.
The trouble is: I have never played a single video game in my entire life.
Luckily for me, Gregory has.
I sent him my first try at the scenes, and he sent me back pages of kindly worded but sweeping critique:"In the beginning of the game Xalik and Satu are fighting each other, but then right afterwards they go to trying to find a treasure chest. It is unlikely that a game would have the players switch objectives like this."
I rewrote the scenes and sent them back to him. His verdict: much better, but. . . . He sent me links to websites where I could learn more about game design, the difference between 2D and 3D games, game settings, game moves. My heart sank. Finally I threw myself on his mercy: "Gregory, could you maybe write just a couple of little details I could put in that would be accurate and real and engaging?" He did so within the hour. I feel a bit guilty about letting him ghost-write these lines for me, but then I remembered that Maud Hart Lovelace, author of my most beloved Betsy-Tacy books, had her husband, Delos, write the football scenes for her in the high school stories.
Next I emailed my brilliant former grad student Sara Goering to vet my Scrabble scene; she is a Scrabble-playing fiend. I emailed my philosophy department colleague Graham Oddie, parent of a now-grown-up violinist, to ask what scales Simon's teacher would ask him to play at his lesson:
Jessica, sitting with her dad in Reutlingen, Germany, sent me this: "Now let me hear a d major scale, two octaves, and the major and minor arpeggios."
I've sent the entire book off to my Boulder writing group friend Leslie O'Kane for what I know will be enormously insightful comments on its overall shape and pacing. My Hollins students have asked to read it, so I've emailed it off to them, too. Two Hollins faculty colleagues, Lisa Rowe Fraustino and Hillary Homzie, are working through it in a little manuscript exchange conducted over margaritas with fabulous Palestinian or Thai food made by Lisa's husband, AKA "The Cutie."
Yay for the village that it takes to write a book.
Sunday, July 6, 2014
Morning Has Broken
I woke up this morning feeling a bit frazzled and stressed. So much left to teach in my class! So much left to write on my book! I'm going to be away next weekend from Thursday to Sunday for dizzyingly wonderful opportunities to reconnect with many dear friends, but can I really afford four days of pure play? And in between now and then I have class, student meetings, a Tuesday outing with a beloved friend who teaches children's literature at Virginia Tech in nearby Blacksburg, talks by author Candace Fleming and author/scholar Lisa Rowe Fraustino, and more, more, more!
Plus, I weighed an additional half pound this morning, despite walking for almost two hours every single day.
My walking partners and I have designated Sunday as do-your-own-walk (or not) day; we don't make plans to head out together precisely at 6:15 a.m., on the theory that an unscheduled day of rest is all to the good.
I didn't feel like walking. Why walk, if I'm gaining weight, anyway?
I didn't feel like writing. Why write, if I can't get everything done, anyway?
Why not stay in bed a little longer itemizing in my head all the things I feel stressed about?
But I got up and threw on my walking clothes and headed out the door at 6:30, the fifteen-minutes-later-start, my concession to the day.
As I walked alone, grumpy, crabby, and mopey, I saw a student from my chapter book class out running, who had slowed to a walk. We fell into step together and started talking.
She's not only earning an M.F.A. degree in writing during summers at Hollins, she's also earning a Ph.D. in media/communication during the academic year. In fact, she was one of the presenters at my Ethics and Children's Literature conference at DePauw two years ago.
We started talking about her dissertation, which is focused on children and consumer culture, with a chapter on American Girl dolls. I told her about my doll Kirsten, and how my grad students took my hint that they might chip in to buy her for me in celebration of my receiving tenure. I told her about the paper I had heard about the American Girl doll books at ChLA this year, on whether the earlier books had been more "radical" than more recent ones, if "radical" and "American Girl dolls" can be used together in the same sentence. She told me about the ethnographic study she had done of the customers at an American Girl doll store in St. Louis.
Then we turned to her chapter book-in-progress, as we reached the crest of the hill and looked out at the farmlands stretching before us. She had switched ideas from the synopsis she had shared last week and has a whole new project. We brainstormed some structural features about it as we walked on. I offered an excellent idea for what the inciting incident for her character's story could be. She thought it was an excellent idea, too. And if not, at least I raised some suggestive possibilities that might stir something productive in her own thinking.
It was one of those conversations that left me thinking, "THIS is what teaching is. THIS is why I want to leave my sweet life in Boulder for six whole weeks on the other side of the country. Just for THIS: to talk deeply and richly about what I love best with someone else who loves it best, too."
And when I got back to my little apartment, my (admittedly unreliable) scale weighed me half a pound lighter. So there!
Plus, I weighed an additional half pound this morning, despite walking for almost two hours every single day.
My walking partners and I have designated Sunday as do-your-own-walk (or not) day; we don't make plans to head out together precisely at 6:15 a.m., on the theory that an unscheduled day of rest is all to the good.
I didn't feel like walking. Why walk, if I'm gaining weight, anyway?
I didn't feel like writing. Why write, if I can't get everything done, anyway?
Why not stay in bed a little longer itemizing in my head all the things I feel stressed about?
But I got up and threw on my walking clothes and headed out the door at 6:30, the fifteen-minutes-later-start, my concession to the day.
As I walked alone, grumpy, crabby, and mopey, I saw a student from my chapter book class out running, who had slowed to a walk. We fell into step together and started talking.
She's not only earning an M.F.A. degree in writing during summers at Hollins, she's also earning a Ph.D. in media/communication during the academic year. In fact, she was one of the presenters at my Ethics and Children's Literature conference at DePauw two years ago.
We started talking about her dissertation, which is focused on children and consumer culture, with a chapter on American Girl dolls. I told her about my doll Kirsten, and how my grad students took my hint that they might chip in to buy her for me in celebration of my receiving tenure. I told her about the paper I had heard about the American Girl doll books at ChLA this year, on whether the earlier books had been more "radical" than more recent ones, if "radical" and "American Girl dolls" can be used together in the same sentence. She told me about the ethnographic study she had done of the customers at an American Girl doll store in St. Louis.
Then we turned to her chapter book-in-progress, as we reached the crest of the hill and looked out at the farmlands stretching before us. She had switched ideas from the synopsis she had shared last week and has a whole new project. We brainstormed some structural features about it as we walked on. I offered an excellent idea for what the inciting incident for her character's story could be. She thought it was an excellent idea, too. And if not, at least I raised some suggestive possibilities that might stir something productive in her own thinking.
It was one of those conversations that left me thinking, "THIS is what teaching is. THIS is why I want to leave my sweet life in Boulder for six whole weeks on the other side of the country. Just for THIS: to talk deeply and richly about what I love best with someone else who loves it best, too."
And when I got back to my little apartment, my (admittedly unreliable) scale weighed me half a pound lighter. So there!
Saturday, July 5, 2014
Happy Days at Hollins
I like to collect "perfect days" - days that are complete and wonderful, often in a quiet, ordinary way, sweet, beautiful days, unremarkable days that nonetheless deserve to be remarked upon.
I'm having quite a few perfect days in my Hollins summer. Here are two.
Thursday, my formal teaching duties for the week had been satisfyingly discharged: my students' chapter-books-in-progress are looking so good! So four days "just for me" stretched ahead. I started the day, as I start every day here, taking a long walk (from 6:15 to 8 a.m.) with two of my fellow faculty, Elizabeth Dulemba and Candice Ransom. They are both so much better than I am at noticing nature: muskrats and heron in Tinker Creek (yes, Annie Dillard's Tinker Creek), a cardinal perched in scarlet splendor on top of a street sign. Elizabeth stops to say hello to the horses pastured along the way, greeting each one by name. "Good morning, Oyster!" They nuzzle against her petting hand.
Back "home" in my little apartment, I wrote for a good hour on my chapter book-in-progress, the fourth title in my Franklin School Friends series, this time a spelling bee story starring know-it-all Simon. I'm at the point in the writing where I have that delicious momentum that makes it feel as if the story is writing itself.
At 10:00 my dear friend Rachel came to collect me. Up first: picking up a few things she needed at Target! I do love tagging along on other people's errands. I've loved it all my life, since I spent much of my high school years going with my dear friend Betsy to pick up dry cleaning, get her shoes resoled, and visit her Aunt Peggy. There is something so relaxing about living someone else's life for a little bit. Then we drove up Mill Mountain and saw the world's largest steel star (so they say; I'm always a bit skeptical about such claims - has EVERY single star in the ENTIRE WORLD really been measured and compared?). As storm clouds gathered, we went to the Grandin neighborhood, near Rachel's house, and got completely and thoroughly soaked to the skin as we dashed into Cups, the perfect cafe for writing. Rachel actually got more soaked than I did, so much so that we had to call her husband, John, for dry clothes.
Note that this does nothing to compromise the perfection of the day.
At Cups we both had "steamers," my new favorite thing: warm milk flavored and sweetened with Italian soda syrup. Rachel had a pumpkin pie steamer; mine was a mixture of chocolate and cherry, like drinking foamy chocolate-covered cherries. Dry and warm now, we stopped into Too Many Books (can there be such a thing?), where I bought myself a used copy of Lucy Maud Montgomery's journals, volume 1. Then we saw a movie, the lush and romantic period-drama-with-a-social conscience, Belle, at the historic Grandin theater. Cobb salads at a local eatery converted from an old ice house completed our outing.
A perfect day.
Yesterday was as perfect, if quieter. Another early walk, on a cool, crisp, and exhilarating morning, the world scrubbed clean from the previous day's downpour. I wrote in my little apartment all morning: chapter 8 of Simon's book. Then I wandered over to campus mid-day to meet with two students to talk about their chapter books, chatting with one in the gorgeous Hollins library, and the other in the cozy lounge on the third floor of Swanannoah Hall, which I had just discovered. After that, I sat on a rocking chair on the verandah of a Georgian-style building on the quiet Hollins quad and scribbled my way through Simon, chapter 9. In the evening: 4th of July barbecue at our director Amanda's fabulously whimsical Victorian home with backyard fireworks (legal here, unlike Colorado).
Another perfect day.
Today so far I've had my walk. My colleague/neighbor Ashley and her dog, Tula, met us along the way. Shortly I'm heading to another colleague/neighbor's Birthday Bubble Brunch for her two super-bright, super-cute daughters. Then more writing: Simon, chapter 10. Should I write here at home? Or at the library (where BLANKETS are provided for extra coziness?). Or on the verandah again? At 3:00, I'm heading out for ice cream with a student who has a car and offered to take me. Planned topic of conversation: writing!
I have a feeling I'm heading for three perfect days in a row.
I'm having quite a few perfect days in my Hollins summer. Here are two.
Thursday, my formal teaching duties for the week had been satisfyingly discharged: my students' chapter-books-in-progress are looking so good! So four days "just for me" stretched ahead. I started the day, as I start every day here, taking a long walk (from 6:15 to 8 a.m.) with two of my fellow faculty, Elizabeth Dulemba and Candice Ransom. They are both so much better than I am at noticing nature: muskrats and heron in Tinker Creek (yes, Annie Dillard's Tinker Creek), a cardinal perched in scarlet splendor on top of a street sign. Elizabeth stops to say hello to the horses pastured along the way, greeting each one by name. "Good morning, Oyster!" They nuzzle against her petting hand.
Back "home" in my little apartment, I wrote for a good hour on my chapter book-in-progress, the fourth title in my Franklin School Friends series, this time a spelling bee story starring know-it-all Simon. I'm at the point in the writing where I have that delicious momentum that makes it feel as if the story is writing itself.
At 10:00 my dear friend Rachel came to collect me. Up first: picking up a few things she needed at Target! I do love tagging along on other people's errands. I've loved it all my life, since I spent much of my high school years going with my dear friend Betsy to pick up dry cleaning, get her shoes resoled, and visit her Aunt Peggy. There is something so relaxing about living someone else's life for a little bit. Then we drove up Mill Mountain and saw the world's largest steel star (so they say; I'm always a bit skeptical about such claims - has EVERY single star in the ENTIRE WORLD really been measured and compared?). As storm clouds gathered, we went to the Grandin neighborhood, near Rachel's house, and got completely and thoroughly soaked to the skin as we dashed into Cups, the perfect cafe for writing. Rachel actually got more soaked than I did, so much so that we had to call her husband, John, for dry clothes.
Note that this does nothing to compromise the perfection of the day.
At Cups we both had "steamers," my new favorite thing: warm milk flavored and sweetened with Italian soda syrup. Rachel had a pumpkin pie steamer; mine was a mixture of chocolate and cherry, like drinking foamy chocolate-covered cherries. Dry and warm now, we stopped into Too Many Books (can there be such a thing?), where I bought myself a used copy of Lucy Maud Montgomery's journals, volume 1. Then we saw a movie, the lush and romantic period-drama-with-a-social conscience, Belle, at the historic Grandin theater. Cobb salads at a local eatery converted from an old ice house completed our outing.
A perfect day.
Yesterday was as perfect, if quieter. Another early walk, on a cool, crisp, and exhilarating morning, the world scrubbed clean from the previous day's downpour. I wrote in my little apartment all morning: chapter 8 of Simon's book. Then I wandered over to campus mid-day to meet with two students to talk about their chapter books, chatting with one in the gorgeous Hollins library, and the other in the cozy lounge on the third floor of Swanannoah Hall, which I had just discovered. After that, I sat on a rocking chair on the verandah of a Georgian-style building on the quiet Hollins quad and scribbled my way through Simon, chapter 9. In the evening: 4th of July barbecue at our director Amanda's fabulously whimsical Victorian home with backyard fireworks (legal here, unlike Colorado).
Another perfect day.
Today so far I've had my walk. My colleague/neighbor Ashley and her dog, Tula, met us along the way. Shortly I'm heading to another colleague/neighbor's Birthday Bubble Brunch for her two super-bright, super-cute daughters. Then more writing: Simon, chapter 10. Should I write here at home? Or at the library (where BLANKETS are provided for extra coziness?). Or on the verandah again? At 3:00, I'm heading out for ice cream with a student who has a car and offered to take me. Planned topic of conversation: writing!
I have a feeling I'm heading for three perfect days in a row.
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