With uncharacteristic spontaneity, I decided a few weeks ago to sign up for a one-day writing workshop in Seattle with David James Duncan, a long-time favorite writer of mine. My parents very graciously funded the trip, knowing just how much it would mean to me. I knew I had dangerously high hopes for the day: a feeling of independence, steps toward finding my voice as a writer, connecting with a favorite author, and connecting with other writers and writing-mentors. My hopes were exceeded in all areas! There is way too much to describe here; it will take months or years for everything I heard to percolate down inside of me. Already, it feels like a dream.
One of the highlights was my table group. We practiced writing exercises and shared with one another, offering suggestions and encouragement quite naturally. On the plane back home, I wrote this poem. I think, in some way, it is about them. I also had some editorial help from them via email last night - the gift keeps on giving!
I am grateful today.