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Three Lessons for the Traveling Writer

Even though we knew we couldn’t get into the onsite events at AWP, Victoria Flynn and I went to Chicago last weekend anyway. We had a hotel. We had ambition. And, my goodness, we had a great time.

Lesson One: Whenever you can, take the train.

There’s something romantic about boarding the train, about climbing the narrow, metal stairs, suitcase in tow. About following the pull to your left and turning into a cabin full of rows and promise. You take your seat, gaze out the window, and float along with a landscape enveloped by the season. On this day, by a heavy snowstorm; the city streams by in a soft, white glow.

Quiet. Like a dream.

The conductor asks for your ticket. He punches twice, smiles once, nods and moves on. You take a picture to mark the moment.

Lesson Two: Whenever you can, take a friend.

Certain bits and pieces of life are best experienced in the presence of someone who puts you at ease, as you move through new spaces. Someone who’s traveling that same journey with you, who shares in your excitement about the future, about the things you want to do and the stories you want to write. Someone who looks you straight in the eye after you’ve said there’s no way you could apply for that two-week writing residency. Ever. Life would never allow for such extravagance, you say. To which she says, Maybe not right now. Reminding you that now isn’t the same as never.

Lesson Three: Whenever you can, take risks.

Say Yes to a late-night dessert. Order the gelato drizzled in salt and olive oil and find yourself saying, “Oh, my. Who knew.” Stay up until two-thirty in the morning, even though you know what “tired and over forty” feels like.

Soak up the fancy of a hotel you might never have visited before, except by the random choice of an online reservation site. A hotel dressed in straight lines and sharp angles and silver and lights and – somewhere in your room – hidden disco balls. A hotel with mirrored tiles that fracture your image and make you believe for a second that you really are living out a dream.

Make a list of all the things you will do this year, ignoring the committee in your mind that presses you with “impossible” and “come on!” and “who do you think you are?”

Write about “gasp-able moments”, sage advice learned from a writer friend’s young son.

And on the ride home, when you realize the train will travel backwards the whole way, sink into your seat and take in the irony of it all, how you’re being pulled out of the dream and back into the day. As if to say, Grab hold: of the energy, of the inspiration, of the call to take risks. Why not, you think. Here we are, only once, There’s no guarantee you’ll succeed just by trying, but there’s promise to fail if you don’t.

 

 

 

 

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Like Kermit and Fozzie: Find Your Community

Each friend represents a world in us,
a world possibly not born until they arrive.  ~Anäis Nin

~

Yesterday, my morning began with Kermit the Frog and Fozzie Bear, an unlikely pair but kindred spirits just the same.

Lisa, me, and V. (thanks to Lisa for the picture!)

I was getting ready for a coffee date with Lisa Rivero and Victoria Flynn, two women I met through writing ventures, who have both become role models and cheerleaders in one way or another. Soon to be on my way, I quick checked in with Twitter, and there it was, the link to one of my favorite Muppet songs with a note from Victoria:

Heading down the road to a writin’ good time.

I met both Lisa and Victoria by chance, really, which is often how I meet people who become lights along my way. We share many things in common and, at the same time, are a mixed bag of writers — working on different kinds of projects and at different stages in our careers. But, I will drive a few minutes or a hundred miles for the chance to spend a couple of hours with them, no matter the gas prices.

It’s the same with many of my friends who’s company I cherish. Some of them I met in the quiet rooms of a church, others at a work function, and one on an afternoon when I tagged along with my older sister to her kids’ play date. That friend become my oldest and dearest, my sister of the heart.

Within certain communities, I learn – by example mostly – how to live life on life’s terms, how to step back when the little things drive me crazy and to focus on details when the big picture overwhelms. Other groups of friends urge me forward along a path of creativity, by sharing their own stories of success and offering words of encouragement at just the right time.

When or how I ended up in those circles doesn’t matter. How long I stay makes all the difference.

The song that sparked it all (bet you can’t listen without bouncing in your seat):