Five Things You Learn In Lexington (or thereabouts)

1. Lisa doesn't bite. When I read my stuff aloud I still felt more self-conscious than a shy sixth grader in C cup bra at her first school dance, but Lisa (and Sherri) were both gracious and honest about my work. By Friday night we weren't quite the wallflowers we were when we first arrived (read: heavy understatement). And by Sunday, well, we were ridiculous.


2. Writing with other writers is the bomb. I've often missed my days of doing creative things in group. When it's going well and the personalities (and egos) click, it's a rare joy to share. Not only that, but you also get to discover how genuinely wierd other people are in ways they don't usually advertise. (This is a general observation, so don't ask me for specifics on Lisa's wierdness.) But the best part is that other writers actually want to hear about that new project you've been fiddling with for six years, and like to listen in while you try to think aloud about why Truly Trueheart will finally cheat on Steve Studly even though she's had a microchip implanted in her brain to prevent her from ever prevaricating. People pay big bucks for that kind of audience. Some call it a writers' conference, some call it therapy. I got to call it 'Laughing Owl'.

3. Happy feet come with happy hearts. These are Lisa's happy feet dancing on Sunday morning. How could she not get down and boogie while we packed up? But there was more to it, at least for me. I left with a happy heart because I got to move to my own internal soundtrack while I was there. If a lullaby came on, I headed off to bed even if it popped on in the middle of the afternoon. And if I had some crazy vocalese thing going on, there were two others close at hand to harmonize with my be-bopping brain.

4. Remember to check what bee is currently buzzing in the TSA's bonnet before you pack. I don't know what I was thinking (actually not having cable means I'm not reminded about the TSA often), but yes, I packed like I usually do and the result was that I dumped about $40 worth of toiletries at the security checkpoint in Tulsa. And the Samson kids' gifts almost went with them. Jake's modeling clay got dusted for bomb residue (or whatever it is) and the girls almost got their scrapbooking gel paint confiscated. I had it gift wrapped, though, and the guards were reluctant to rip into it, perhaps because they'd already ripped into all my other carry-on luggage. So the gifts arrived safely, and the security story was a bonus for Jake.

5. Church happens between two. This is were the Samsons gather on a Sunday. Because my flight left late, they hauled me along to their church and I got a look-see at the actual Communality project. It was low key and lovely. I think the bread and the wine for communion was actually cranberry nut bread and V8 Splash, and we actually served it to one another. That part was especially touching because the 'pass the plate' communion always seems cold to me. Holding the communion and offering the blessing for another believer to receive is a sort of service, and a very holy one. Like so many other facets of contemporary church life, we've sacrificed the intimate and humble for expediency. But the simple sharing of the communion between two strangers is all you need for church.

And that's it!

Nah. Just joking. Actually there's more, there's much, much more to say. But this is just a taste of the bounty (as Sherri said) that Lisa offered us in Lexington. One of the greatest confirmations I left with was hearing that I shouldn't abandon my original vision of writing for younger readers--the middles and the YA. I've gotten off-track with my WIP, and because of this, the manuscript has been wandering like a lost soul with half a map home. But with 66k in words invested, I'm not going to dump it. So I'm putting it aside for a bit until I can find that other half map. Instead and until then, I'm starting research for another project that I've been mulling for several months now. And realistically, until T is in school full days, I haven't got the time for a job/mothering/and a writing career. I wish I had Lisa's energy, but I don't. So it'll come, in it's own sweet time it'll come.