Dizzy: A Confessional Glimpse into Life on the Road (Forgive Me)

I would like to take this moment to open a moderately frazzled view into the logistics of life on the road for two years. My readers know that I rarely “blog about blogging” and I rarely “rant about writing.” But occasionally it’s important to pull back the mask and offer a little perspective. Deep breath. Here goes. Are you with me? I won’t blame you if you’re not. But if you’re curious about this journey, you might wish to read on.

I will begin by confessing the following: I am tired. I will also add: I have no regrets. Sometimes, when people stop to ask me about the giant banner on my car and I tell them I’m travelling across the country for 2 years attending writing residencies and fellowships, a quaint smile forms across their faces. “Oh that’s nice,” some say. “How’d you get that gig?”

How I “got the gig”—which is self-designed, incidentally—was by ferociously applying to every residency and fellowship that paid/had scholarships/didn’t cost money that I could find in the United States. Then I waited. And agonized. And scheduled and planned, and acquired additional letters of rec and filled out additional applications and then one day, 13 months ago, I loaded up my car and (thanks Dad!) drove 1200 miles to northern Michigan to begin the tour. I left 17 boxes of books, the contents of my kitchen, musical instruments, and a handful of other things in my parent’s attic. Everything else I own fits into my Volvo station wagon. Since then I’ve travelled 20,000 domestic air miles and 8,000 nomadic non-commuter Volvo miles in 13 months (and counting). During that time I’ve written and had readings in 5 different residency locations, published 11 short stories, and won 4 literary prizes. It’s invigorating and exhausting all at once, but I wouldn’t possibly be where I am today without the deep immersions into my writing that these residencies have afforded.

As spring approaches, I have another series of decisions to make. Welcome to the continuous loop playing in my brain. Another deep breath:

Dizzy yet? Me too. The above mind-mess deals with logistics: income, miles on the road, professional relationships, and career opportunities. It does not address matters of the heart and spirit. I’m weary of public schools right now, because I loathe teaching in any environment where I feel limited in my abilities to do the best job I know how to do. I can teach my heart out in Wallowa County schools, but there will always be some framework, some structure, some punish/reward psychology that the kids are getting ingrained into them that my humble, teensy, 60-minute contribution can simply never undo. When I know I can do a better job than the one I’m allowed to do, I grow slowly and deeply depressed, which is the short version of what my last few weeks here have felt like. It’s beautiful. It’s rich in culture. It’s amazing. And yet, and yet, and yet…

What do I need next on the tour? What will most support my writing life and the generation of new material? I am not motivated solely by income opportunities. I am not motivated solely by career activities. I am motivated, though, by the right environment and the right conditions to feed the writing life. Where will I find those conditions next? I have to choose wisely, because my 10-week stint in Michigan this summer involves part-time teaching. I don’t want to teach too much. I did that for 5 years (about 5 years ago) and nearly destroyed myself while standing. It was the truest experience of boundaries and human limits I’ve experienced in my entire life.

I need to shake the branches. I need to unearth. I need to keep everything alive. Can I do that and “stay on”? Will springtime in these mountains that lured me for so many years be just the anecdote I need?