Week 3: Reflections as Writer-in-Residence

Week three flew by. I now understand why Thursdays are the most disliked day by the department, despite the fact that having no scheduled classes gives the illusion of more time to write.

Last Thursday, for example, went something like this: 8:00-10:30am read papers, 10:30-11:45 department meeting, 12:15-1:15pm community meeting, 1:30-2:00 writing major meeting, 2:00-4:45 office hours, 5:00-7:30 guest author dinner, 7:30-8:30 guest author reading, 8:30-10:30 guest author reception. Don’t get me wrong—all of these engagements were with nice, efficient, smart people who are busier than I am. I used to have days like this all the time. I’ve just decided that Thursdays exist to remind me I’m 80% certain I never want to teach full time.

Otherwise, progress was in fact made this week. The sounds of the music students, the emotions of adolescence, the feel of a deep freeze, and the look of white on white—all of this is starting to needle into my psyche in the best possible ways. I get piano concertos stuck in my head or close my eyes and see dancers scroll across my mind’s eye. I hear dueling trumpets and electronic organs. I think in terms of worlds beneath the ice and snow: the cold, slow fanning of a pike’s fin or the hurried burrow of a shrew. It’s just the kind of immersion I wanted and it’s satisfying to see it show up in my writing so soon.