As much as I enjoyed my week of writing, it was good to drive up at home today and see my family including all the animals. Keil Bay didn't even act mad!
It's a gorgeous day and I was very pleased to walk outside and not sink into mud. Although now I'm reading there may be snow tomorrow - just in time for my return home.
Hoping not, but we'll go with the flow.
I also learned that Redford and Rafer are going to be on the cover of the Elevenses' newsletter this month - our cover boys!
Right now I'm catching up on laundry, getting unpacked, and feeling very happy that even when I go someplace fabulous, coming home is better still. That's a true blessing, and I'm taking time to acknowledge it.
billie hinton’s camera-obscura:
life and lessons on November Hill Farm
Monday, February 02, 2009
Saturday, January 31, 2009
images from this writing week
A few images from the day, first, the talis-ponies, crow feather from the labyrinth path back at November Hill, and the talis-woman I brought home last night, who is already lending her charms to the writing:
Next, a view of the wintering long beds, and beyond, the goldfish pond that in summers has bullfrogs singing all night long:
A rear view of the big house, the magic mansion; in every shadowed window I see stories being formed and shaped:
Next, a view of the wintering long beds, and beyond, the goldfish pond that in summers has bullfrogs singing all night long:
A rear view of the big house, the magic mansion; in every shadowed window I see stories being formed and shaped:
Friday, January 30, 2009
this writing life
I took some photos earlier but left the camera back in my room, at the other end of the big house, so I'll have to put them up tomorrow. We have wireless here now, but only in one area, and I'm generally just getting online once/day.
It's being a very productive week thus far. I've enjoyed the freedom to stay up late, knowing I don't have to get up by any certain time, and it's wonderful being able to work, break for a bit, and get right back to it with no other responsibilities.
The things I miss, ironically, are my barn chores. I've become so used to measuring the passage of my day by the horses and the chores that several times I've found myself wandering about the house here, looking for a chore to do. Using my hands seems to now be intimately connected to balancing my day. Fortunately, there ARE usually a few dishes in the sink here, and I can busy myself for a few minutes doing that.
Tonight all the writers in residence went out to dinner at a lovely little Greek restaurant, where we shared good food, good wine, and excellent conversation. Afterward, we wandered down to a coffee bar we thought was open for business and ended up unintentionally crashing a private birthday party (the owner's). She was incredibly gracious, and made us coffees anyway.
I also bought myself a little spirit doll, as an early birthday present. I'll take a photo later, but it has blackbird or crow or raven wings and my favorite colors - and I felt like she wanted to become my talis-woman, so now she's sitting on my desk along with the two pony figurines and my crow feather from the labyrinth path.
This morning, the property manager came upstairs and found all of us writers sitting in the kitchen sharing a few minutes' chat before we got to work for the day. He looked around at us (we are 4) and said "this is what it's all about, right here, this energy."
And he is right. It's easy to get drawn into the "publish or perish" web, and easy to mark success using that scale, but the joy of writing and the joy of living the writing life is being able to sit at the desk and do it, and to share that passion with other kindred writing spirits.
As much as I get done when I come down here, I always leave with the renewed sensibility of what being a writer truly is. It's a lifestyle. It's not whether or not someone in NY picks the query or the book or the story or the poem. It's not an advance or an x-book deal. Those are things most of us aspire to and celebrate, but they're not the most important part of this practice and this art.
We've talked a lot this week about being true to our voices and our work, and to aim high but by our own standards.
I'm grateful once again for the reminder.
It's being a very productive week thus far. I've enjoyed the freedom to stay up late, knowing I don't have to get up by any certain time, and it's wonderful being able to work, break for a bit, and get right back to it with no other responsibilities.
The things I miss, ironically, are my barn chores. I've become so used to measuring the passage of my day by the horses and the chores that several times I've found myself wandering about the house here, looking for a chore to do. Using my hands seems to now be intimately connected to balancing my day. Fortunately, there ARE usually a few dishes in the sink here, and I can busy myself for a few minutes doing that.
Tonight all the writers in residence went out to dinner at a lovely little Greek restaurant, where we shared good food, good wine, and excellent conversation. Afterward, we wandered down to a coffee bar we thought was open for business and ended up unintentionally crashing a private birthday party (the owner's). She was incredibly gracious, and made us coffees anyway.
I also bought myself a little spirit doll, as an early birthday present. I'll take a photo later, but it has blackbird or crow or raven wings and my favorite colors - and I felt like she wanted to become my talis-woman, so now she's sitting on my desk along with the two pony figurines and my crow feather from the labyrinth path.
This morning, the property manager came upstairs and found all of us writers sitting in the kitchen sharing a few minutes' chat before we got to work for the day. He looked around at us (we are 4) and said "this is what it's all about, right here, this energy."
And he is right. It's easy to get drawn into the "publish or perish" web, and easy to mark success using that scale, but the joy of writing and the joy of living the writing life is being able to sit at the desk and do it, and to share that passion with other kindred writing spirits.
As much as I get done when I come down here, I always leave with the renewed sensibility of what being a writer truly is. It's a lifestyle. It's not whether or not someone in NY picks the query or the book or the story or the poem. It's not an advance or an x-book deal. Those are things most of us aspire to and celebrate, but they're not the most important part of this practice and this art.
We've talked a lot this week about being true to our voices and our work, and to aim high but by our own standards.
I'm grateful once again for the reminder.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Typing to you from the NC Literary Hall of Fame
A quick glimpse into the richness of place here. You can see why it has so much power to inspire.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
writing frenzy
I've been working on the new project the first half of the day, and switching over to editing work the latter half. Thus far this work schedule is going really well. I stayed up until 2:30 a.m. this morning I was so caught up in the edits.
It's been rainy and windy here most of the day, and we lost power for about 6 hours. Fortunately, I'm working in longhand this trip, and so the power loss didn't affect my writing time at all.
In between the writing I'm enjoying the company of two of my favorite women colleagues in fiction, who are also here working hard on their novels and stories.
Right now, I feel like I'm in a novel myself - in the mansion full of antiques and history and layers of writing energy from years on end, the wind howling outside, the ghost room just down the hall. It's quite stimulating.
It's been rainy and windy here most of the day, and we lost power for about 6 hours. Fortunately, I'm working in longhand this trip, and so the power loss didn't affect my writing time at all.
In between the writing I'm enjoying the company of two of my favorite women colleagues in fiction, who are also here working hard on their novels and stories.
Right now, I feel like I'm in a novel myself - in the mansion full of antiques and history and layers of writing energy from years on end, the wind howling outside, the ghost room just down the hall. It's quite stimulating.
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