My favorite part of writing on Substack is the moment when I know exactly what I’m going to talk about, the moment when I find my way in. Like a shard just under the skin of my whorly fingertips, I can feel it and see it, but can’t yet reach it.
That little splinter of an idea. I let it take its time. And when it comes to the surface, I’m ready.
This time is different. I’m writing without a shard or a map or a crooked temporary tattooed lantern to guide me. This time I’m working from a feeling, which is to say I’m working outside whatever comfort zone I’ve needed to escape for a while now.
Last weekend, I attended the Journey to Jupiter Writing Retreat, held this year in Salter Path, NC, with my favorite guides, Julia F. Green and Ralph Walker (and seventeen other writers).
“Magic,” I whispered when I entered the lounge each morning to see the 5 A.M Writers Club come to life, all of us in pajamas, drinking sludgy coffee, trying not to pierce the veil between sleep and sunrise.
Like last year’s Jupiter retreat, it was a time of creativity and community and so much joy. And like last year, reentry into the real world was a bear. I already knew it was coming. I braced for the landing.
To say I’m feeling a little tender about it all would be an understatement. Everything at home moves so fast. I teach a few classes, grade fifty discussion boards while eating leftover chili, I almost forget my Zoom meeting, I answer twelve emails, I race to pick up my son from school and go to swim practice and feed the cats and maybe eventually probably do laundry and dishes and figure out something for dinner. No fewer than eight notifications popping up on my phone at once. A virtual to-do list that gets longer rather than shorter. Don’t forget the bathroom renovation going on and also it’s Picture Day. The gas tank is on empty.
It’s all beautiful, don’t get me wrong. I’ve got a stack of photocopied Walt Whitman poems and I write my lesson plans in colorful markers. The cats are mostly sweet and my family is happy to see me.
The talented and hilarious Caroline Manring already wrote about it: “We all need the blessing of contrast. We all need to spend time swimming in what is clearly NOT the water we usually swim in.”
On Jupiter, no one asks me to cook dinner. I have just enough outfits to stay clothed and I’m fine with it. There are other people, and we’re all being creative together. There is absolutely no Zoom or discussion boards. This slower pace suits me well, it turns out.
God, I miss the dinner bell. I miss us all moving together towards it.
And maybe that’s what I really want to say. I miss the place and the pace, but I miss the people more.
To paraphrase my dear friend, Shawn Anderson, “This is what really matters.” Not the job and the bills and the everyday stuff. Our community and our creativity is what nourishes us.
It isn’t a shard of glass under my skin. It’s a room full of writers.
And a few other updates:
I’m drafting Book 2. Expect to hear me talk more about Edgar Allan Poe for the next year. Just sayin.
Doll Parts is on Goodreads, waiting for you to add her.
I got my hair fixed and took some headshots! Make sure to subscribe so that you don’t miss it when I share my definitely not awkward pics.
Love love love,
Penny
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One of these days I'm going to have to sign up! So glad you all had a blast.