I spent this last weekend, a long gloriously fatigue inducing and brain-blowing three days (and many late nights) submerged in a writers conference. The Alabama Writers Conclave, to be exact. State-wide would be an understatement. Famous, published and polished writers were there from all over Alabama as well as some from Tennessee. If I missed a state, forgive me. Not so famous, not yet published and rough around the edges writers were there, too. From the clued in to the clueless. Best of all, it didn’t matter! Writers love other writers. If I can be so crass, which I will just go ahead and be, I dove into this bunch and experienced my first writer orgy/ Woodstock moment for word groupies. Bodies of work and “better than chocolate” words were all over the place. I was high as runaway kite, blowing into sessions and conversations wherever words enticed me. I grabbed, grappled and groped, trying to lose mind in the art of writing and yeah, baby, I was a shameless success at it… falling head over hills, addicted in love. And, yes..it was THAT good!
I became pregnant. No, really, I did. If your mind is in the gutter, just stay there and laugh with me. I became pregnant with WORDS. I should have a “Who’s Your Word Daddy” t-shirt. I was glowing. I went home after the first night with anticipation and went back the next two days for more, even though “creative sickness” made me woozy. I had so many questions. I received so many answers. I was showered with encouragement and skills which I need to be able write creatively and pop out words like a female farm cat squeezes out litters of kittens. Whether in stories essays or poetry, I found love. I have the brain stretch marks to show it.
It wasn’t always easy. I struggled during some assignments. I fought back tears of appreciation for those who so seemingly without effort produced a jaw-dropping poem or title or even paragraphs. Many times, I was just about “there” and then….nothing. “Just breathe and let it flow from you…be real…write from you gut…” Some things would not flow. Some things felt overwhelming and I wanted to scream. Some things, however, some of these whizzing words in my mind buzzed like a bee hive and I could taste how sweet they came together or stung me with my honesty.
I’m still in love. I plan on staying that was for a long long time. No lie, at least 10 poems, haiku, essays,books and blog ideas are waiting for my fertile noggin to get with it and give birth to them.
If it is not writing, I know you have something which you love. You must. If you don’t, find something. Try something. Stretch yourself. Passion is dizzy delicious. Treat yourself. You may be surprised. What if you have multiple loves? Just do it! Pop it out and be kind to those following behind and beside you or leading you. Be kind to me, please, when you stumble over horrid grammatical or spelling “whoops” in this piece.
“He smelled like pennies…” I’m gonna go work on that baby “write” now.