A Stalker Poem For Amy

Thanks to that lovely writers' retreat that I went to, I have started to remember things about my past. It seems that my life as a "writer" did not start a few months ago when I began posting regularly on this blog. I had not thought about my other written pieces in years. They were just random blips on my radar and I had buried their existence deep in my mental library. There are some essays and published Letters to the Editor here and there. And then there are the poems...

Truth be told, I had a fling with poetry in my youth. There is a ring binder somewhere in the garage that has some really bad - really bad - poems about being emotional. Those were composed over the course of my high school years. I don't remember if I kept the composition book that I had to turn in for the poetry unit (all six long weeks of it) in Senior English. Mrs. Apple handed that back to me with a note in it that said, "get a publisher". I laughed at that. I was sure those poems were complete rot - especially the rhyming one about my tree. That was awful. 

There were another four poetry-filled months in the Fall of 1987. I was at college in Worcester, MA (nobody is sure why) and I ended up doing grunt work on the student newspaper. I also ended up with a crush on the poetry editor. So I dutifully turned in poems each week for his consideration. The weeks when I had a poem published in the two-page spread of verse and art were full of romantic daydreams. The week that the poetry editor let me know what he really thought of me was followed by a page-long poem entitled "Death of a Nice Kid". Two or three of my poems ended up in the staple-bound anthology the college published every year. I don't know why. Then I went home to attend the local junior college and my affair with poetry was over. 

Unlike many of my other relationships, there was no horrible, angry breakup to be burned into my memory. My affair with poetry just sort of faded away as I discovered young men from the Friendliest Cotton Pickin' Town In Texas. I definitely should have written about some of those experiences, but I must have dropped my pen when I picked up my lipstick and mascara.  

Years and years went by... fast-forward to 2011.

Why David Dark Should Be Even More Famous

So I have set myself up to somehow convince you that a man you may never have heard of should be famous, more famous than he might be in circles where he is already known. I am fairly sure that I do not yet have the kind of credibility that would just let me say, "because I said so" and you would automatically agree. I might actually have to do a little bit of a sales job here.

David, if this effort to increase your popularity fails in any way, please know that the cause is purely my lack of persuasion skills and not any lack of worthiness on your part.

I think we need to start with the fact that David Dark is already an author of consequence and stature. The Wikipedia article about him qualifies itself as a stub, which is true - it is too short. One of David's loyal fans needs to go edit and enlarge the article. (Somebody get on that, okay?) The Amazon author page that bears his name does not give much more information, but at least they offer you the chance to buy his three books. A quick Google search will lead you to an article he has written and some YouTube videos of David expounding on several topics. I'm sure there is more to be found if you but take the time.

I will admit that I have watched only one of the videos and have not read the article or any of the books (I have one on order right now). Why, then, would I be concerned with multiplying the reach of David's fame? Didn't I only just meet him this past weekend at the Writers' Retreat? I was not even aware of his existence prior to this event, so isn't it curious that I am already prepared to lobby my small constituency to fancy him?

On Going to a Writers' Retreat - Part 2

I'm sitting here trying to keep the puppies from feeling ignored (they make me pay when I leave them for a few days). Getting coherent thoughts is a little hard. The question everyone has been asking me is, "how was the Writers' Retreat?" I'm trying to keep all those thoughts together in one place before moving on to the next thing in life, but it is hard. Hubby and I are supposed to be having dinner tonight with a friend who is in from New York. The pauses are just not long enough sometimes.

There isn't enough space on this blog to tell you about the whole event. I could write a post just about Laity Lodge and the wonderful staff there. I could write another post just about my roommate and the things we have in common. Another essay could cover the way Kathy Hastings made artists out of a group of non-artists. I think I could go on and on about how wonderful it was to see water - the Frio River - while the rest of my life is affected by horrible drought, burn bans, and huge fires. I could produce a good five paragraphs about the way we all worshiped together every morning. And even more... I think you will have to email me your questions if I don't cover what you want to know about. There is just so much... let me see what I can give you now.

Photos From The Writers' Retreat at Laity Lodge

I promise! The post on my experience at the Writers' Retreat is coming! But it is going to be about four pages long as it is, so I thought I would show you the photos in a separate post. There will be some links in this post, so definitely follow them and "meet" some of the amazing people that were part of my weekend. I think I could write a small book about the whole experience just because it was so FULL. A full human experience. What more can you ask for?

First a little scenery...

Many of us ended up taking pictures in front of that amazing fountain. I caught a photo of others participating in the ritual.

I was waiting for somebody and I ended up messing around with the camera. This is my only "still life" photo of the scenery that made the cut. 

This is some of the dabbling I was doing at the fully stocked art studio. The artist in residence for our retreat, Kathy Hastings, made everything so easy to learn and play with. I wish I could just go to an art workshop with her for a weekend. That statement comes from someone who does not identify as a visual artist in any way, so take it for what it is worth!

Claire, Amy, Cyn, Cathy, and Lily working on new watercolor techniques. THAT was fun!

Now let's "meet" some people...

The Land Beyond The End Of My Nose

So I am back from the Writers' Retreat. I am so tired that I can barely keep my eyes open (and that is after a nap!). But I knew you - my five loyal readers (or is it six now?) - would want me to check in, so here is a short version.

Was it good? Yes.

Did I learn anything? Yes, on the few occasions that I visited The Land Beyond The End Of My Nose and paid attention to what was happening, I did manage to learn some things. Then I  would go back into my typical "all about me" state and concentrate on whatever facet of me was most interesting.

What is my take-away? David Dark is famous. And if he isn't famous enough, we should make him so. I will explain more about why in a later post when I am marginally more coherent.

Stay tuned to this channel for updates. Some of you "lurkers" might have to admit you read this blog because I am going to be having a "give away". Everyone likes a chance to win, right?

Thank you for your support. Now off to bed.