This entire week has been a creative immersion; I have barely stepped outside my own front door. It’s a good morning for Snippets.
- My self-selected isolation is all about the curriculum which is finally on the home stretch — I’ve been saying I’m on Mile 24 of a marathon for several days now, so surely I’m on Mile 25 by now. The end is indeed in sight. I’ll be finished in time for delivery of the pilot on Thursday morning.
- I’m teaching my class on Writing & Healing at the University of Denver this fall (online), to an extraordinary group of Creative Writing MA students. This week we’ve had some excellent discussions on the readings from Louise DeSalvo’s book Writing as a Way of Healing and Robb Jackson’s chapter, “Finding Your Shoobedoo,” in Expressive Writing: Foundations of Practice, a collection I edited.
- My last note in a conversation about “head writing,” in which brilliant scenes and sparkling dialogue unfold in the head but don’t make it to the page: Five-Minute Sprint. Go into the bathroom and lock the door. Write what’s in your head. Scribble the start of a scene or make bullet notes. Set your phone timer. When it dings, finish your thought and unlock the door. Don’t forget to flush!
- The Breaking Silence teleworkshop went very well last Friday. I’ll get the MP3 soon and I’ll post it on Journalverse. One woman particularly responded to the suggestion that traumatic material can be eased into by writing a short piece in which the experience is written in the third-person point of view (the “s/he” voice in reference to the self), with the writer as compassionate witness and omniscient narrator. She tried that in one of our short writes and reported that not only was she was able to write about something she’d been avoiding, but she also felt safe and empowered.
- I broke silence/isolation last night by attending the January birthday parties of nephew Tom and bro-in-law Leo. Also present: three nieces, one girlfriend, both sisters, a neff-in-law, two littles, Mac the family dog, lots of love and laughter. After pizza we danced along with Bruno Mars on the Grammys. Does life get any better?