Hi friends –
Some of you know my Thanksgiving falls at the end of September. Fishermen’s Thanksgiving, where we celebrate a safe and successful season. The fourth Thursday of November doesn’t ring true to me in the same way. This year is different. This Thanksgiving finds me nestled up here at the North Cascades Institute, reflecting on my first full week of a three month writer’s residency, feeling quite swathed in gratitude, indeed.
Leaving the house last Wednesday was harder than I’d expected it would be. It was cold that day – would drop to 8 degrees that night – but the roads were mostly good. No snow, just some slick spots on the twistier, shaded sections. A sheriff waved me around a Jeep recently crumpled against the rocky shoulder.
Having dallied so long, I reached the Environmental Learning Center later than I’d planned, but still before dark. Transplanted the carload of bags and backpacks to all the corners of my little house – food, kitchen stuff, books, bedding, warm clothes, more books – and started the first list of things forgotten. (How did I miss Joel’s homemade s’ghetti sauce? Not that remembering would’ve mattered; I couldn’t wedge another thing into the Subaru.)
With a wilderness EMT program on campus for a week-long training, the dining hall was open. I felt shy going down to dinner, even after all the kindness Joel and I had encountered here in our October visit. Just a bit off-kilter, like I was about to step into something big. Which, really, was not such an unreasonable feeling to have.
Dinner was delicious (vegetarian lasagna for me, with a fancy green salad on the side and crème brulee for dessert), but I excused myself early. Headlamp lighting my way, I trudged up the trail to start getting settled in Dogwood 2.
Only two things mattered to me that night: a bed to fall into, and a writing space to wake up to. The first was easy, while the second took much more time and planning. Butcher paper lining the walls to chart Hooked’s narrative, photos and post-its and scribbled notes on napkins taped throughout. A bulletin board rich with inspiration – reminders to stay on track with my themes, photos of supporters, quotes that guide my work. (In purple ink, Pema Chodron advises, “Nothing ever goes away until it has taught us what we need to know.”) By the end of the night, Dogwood 2 had become Hooked’s womb.
As my own work surrounds me, so does many other folks’. Books stacked lovingly, a tad compulsively, edges lining up just-so. Favorite memoirs on the west end of the kitchen bar. Writing prompts and books on craft, all on the east end. On the bedroom desk, nonfiction resources like charts and guidebooks of the fish, birds, plants of Southeast Alaska.
My friend Tom chided me about bringing so many books, reminding me that I’m here to write, not read a library. I knew how to hear his fatherly caution. He, like my own dad, sees the monumental nature of this task and frets for time. He’s not wrong. Neither am I. These books are here as part talisman, part inspiration. Their authors are my mentors. Some I’ve been lucky enough to study with in person. Others I study sentence by sentence, pausing there in wonder (How did s/he do that?), here in admiration (Damn, look what s/he did there!) Stroking soft covers, flipping to random pages, they all reassure me. Their pages filled one word at a time, they say. Mine will, too.
My November goal was to write 1000 words a day. In Bellingham, that was a sputtering, stop-and-go sort of effort. The entire week before I came up here? Nothing.
It was important to me to embrace a routine as soon as I got here. I’ll tell you what that looks like another time, but for now, let’s just say it’s working.
With 10,688 new words in the past week, it’s working really well. That’s nothing for my more prolific friends, but as a slow writer, this is monumental for me. It’s working – I’m working, and I have to tell you, sweeties, it feels wonderful.
I know there’ll be a crash. Just as you can anchor up high on a great day’s fishing only to wake up and find the school vanished overnight, the words won’t always be here. NCI isn’t magic. I’m finally learning the truth that countless mentors have tried to impress upon me: there isn’t magic, there’s only work. As I put in the consistent time and effort, the words respond. The more devotion with which I sit down, the more agreeably the words show up. Why did it take me so long to accept this truism?
Today, on November’s Thanksgiving, the midday sun is streaming bright and warm onto my shoulder. In a moment, I’ll walk down to the office, using one of NCI’s computers to break my internet silence and share this time with you. A mosey on one of the many surrounding trails, pausing to celebrate fresh air and wild places. There’s a piece of salmon – a coho tailpiece – defrosting in the fridge, and two of Joel’s chocolate chip coconut cookies waiting to reward me. It’s another good day to write.
With love and gratitude,
Tele
c/o ELC
PO Box 429
Marblemount, WA
98267
Happy Thanksgiving and contented work, Tele. Live. The Marita-Davis family.
Happy Thanksgiving, Tele. It’s wonderful to follow along as you live your dream. Write on!
Happy for you Tele, and well earned! I wonder where I would be if as devoted to my leanings…makes me wish I could roll back the years. Obviously you have what it takes, and all of us blessed with the results that nourish and tweak our hearts and minds — this is what comes of love behind the process — a love that stints not on capturing the feeling– the joy, the grief, the beauty, the wonder, the nuances of life in all its inexplicable and wonderous ways.
Happy for you Tele, and well earned! I wonder where I would be if as devoted to my leanings…makes me wish I could roll back the years. Obviously you have what it takes, and all of us blessed with the results that nourish and tweak our hearts and minds — this is what comes of love behind the process — a love that stints not on capturing the feeling– the joy, the grief, the beauty, the wonder, the nuances of life in all its inexplicable and wonderous ways.
Hi Tele,
Congratulations on the writing residency, and best wishes and blessing for successful writing! There is something about a space of time to do nothing but write – wonderful, scary, daunting, a runway ready for taxiing and liftoff. Fly high, my friend! I appreciate you sharing the journey.
–Victoria
So glad your catching your rhythm Tele, your missive was exciting to read. I love the picture you created on what your cabin looks like inside, with all your prompts and “important stuff” taped on the walls, and books that will encourage you on. 10,688 words in your first week…progress!!
I wasn’t expecting you to write us so soon, but am ecstatic you did. I’m thankful that on this day you have come this far.
Wonderful to hear you’re in your element. And fun to ‘see’ how you’ve organized Dogwood 2. A nest for Hooked. Thanks for writing.
I am so proud of you.
Tele!
It’s been ages, and my heart and mind have ached to have your words swimming through them. I am beyond thrilled that you are where you are, doing what you are doing. This is great inspiration, and both Sean and I celebrate this important chapter in your journey as a writer and self-reflective human.
We have just landed back in Portland after some time away in California visiting family and friends, which came promptly after getting married. Truly one of the most magical, meaningful and powerful experiences of my life so far.
I returned home to a stack of mail, one of which was my settlement from Peter Pan Seafoods, signifying that I am truly, a successful Bristol Bay Salmon Skipper! I am overjoyed.
With much love, I trust that you are thriving and I wish you continued creativity,
Heather
Glad to hear things are going well. Indeed, it’s never easy, but the effort and the labor pains — to continue your metaphor — are reflected in the richness of the final product, and the indescribable sensation of hearing the first cries (i.e. positive reviews.)
Keep on keepin’ on!
It sounds wonderful, Tele. I’m so glad to hear you are devoting yourself to writing. I’m using this post as my inspirational spring board for my own writing.
Oh Tele, how you’re a source of awe I don’t think you’ll ever really know.
In the words of Mr. Mayfield, “Keep on, keepin’ on” 🙂
Love,
Me
You, too, sweetie. I just asked Ashley about you the other day — sounds like you’ve taken some major steps towards your own dreams this past year. Congratulations!