Neile Graham (neile) wrote,
Neile Graham

Les Semaines August 2, 2009: Sixth Week of Clarion West 2009

The last week is always so intense for the students and for us. All the work and with the anticipation of saying goodbye. Trying to make all the last stuff count. And each day there are so many this-is-the-lasts. No matter how ready everyone is for it to be over, the end is hard and always comes sooner than anyone expects. I always feel on the edge of forgetting something crucial, something that will cause a crisis, and I know it's the result of just too many little things to do in a short time that has suddenly come upon me, but yikes. I remember how that felt when I was a part of the class myself.

This was a fun week for the students, which they needed after five intense weeks. Not that this wasn't intense, but Rudy Rucker is also a playful instructor, which added relief to the exhaustion and hard work, and got us through Seattle's record-breaking heatwave, as did the air conditioner one of the students had brought in. It sat around for most of the workshop. We had no idea how much we were going to need it.

No more new stories. No more everyone spread all around the house critiquing. No more playing Thing. No more Joni-cooked meals. No more spontaneous squid songs about Tentacle Longing. No more weekly readings or parties. No more Mystery Muses. No more Write-a-thon-ing. Damn. I miss it all.

Now everyone's gone. The doors are closed. We're missing all these people we had just started to allow ourselves to get to know (we try to interfere as little as we can with the group).

It's all over, and I'm in recovery mode. Actually, that's not quite true. Instead of doing nothing and sleeping all day as I sometimes do after the workshop, I got up the next morning and started vacuuming. I've been playing catch up the last few days, digging through the stacks of paper on my desk. Completing the write-a-thon. Paying bills. Getting Stuff Done, which may be a reaction to the fact that it's no longer 103 outside.
  • Post a new comment


    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    Your IP address will be recorded 

    When you submit the form an invisible reCAPTCHA check will be performed.
    You must follow the Privacy Policy and Google Terms of use.