The Bond Writers Have
This year I started teaching in the MFA program at SNHU. It's a low-residency program that meets twice a year in person for several days of critiques, workshops, readings and community building. Between the residencies, I work as a mentor to five students. This month was my first winter residency at the fancy Mountain View Grand in New Hampshire. It's beautiful. Also cold. And I think because of the weather, a lot of people stayed inside. What happened this winter that I didn't see happening over the summer was this "coming together," even when nothing was scheduled. Students pulled up chairs and couches making circles to talk, share challenges in their work, and then impromptu readings. I was "caught" in one of those.
Photo by Franella Smith, a student in the program
Now normally I do not like to read in public. At the faculty reading, when faculty read to the student body, I get so nervous I make myself sick. But sitting around with students in this casual circle, I felt a part of something special. First, I was honored to be allowed in. Second, I felt that since the students were being brave and reading raw work to one another, I wanted to be a part of it. So when Kip, shown, said, "How about you, Jo?" I said yes. Because I wanted to. I really wanted to be a part of this special thing I was witnessing. This bonding of writers. This circle of trust they had created.
I think we writers are bonded by our deep longing to be heard. To tell our stories. I can sit at a table with writers and instantly know that if nothing else, we share that one thing. That one giant thing that makes us look at the world a little differently. Sometimes a little more tenderly than it deserves. And sometimes a little more cruelly. But we are always looking, interpreting, seeing the story there, or _a_ story anyway, whether it's true or not.
I feel I have been given a huge gift by being accepted into this community of storytellers. And I guess I just needed to thank the universe, and in particular a certain friend who suggested I apply for the job (thank you, Robin!!) and the generous person who hired me (thank you, Diane!!), for helping me find my way here.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Monday Morning Warm-Up:
Share a story about a time you bonded with another writer(s) or shared a special "we are writers" moment.
Photo by Franella Smith, a student in the program
Now normally I do not like to read in public. At the faculty reading, when faculty read to the student body, I get so nervous I make myself sick. But sitting around with students in this casual circle, I felt a part of something special. First, I was honored to be allowed in. Second, I felt that since the students were being brave and reading raw work to one another, I wanted to be a part of it. So when Kip, shown, said, "How about you, Jo?" I said yes. Because I wanted to. I really wanted to be a part of this special thing I was witnessing. This bonding of writers. This circle of trust they had created.
I think we writers are bonded by our deep longing to be heard. To tell our stories. I can sit at a table with writers and instantly know that if nothing else, we share that one thing. That one giant thing that makes us look at the world a little differently. Sometimes a little more tenderly than it deserves. And sometimes a little more cruelly. But we are always looking, interpreting, seeing the story there, or _a_ story anyway, whether it's true or not.
I feel I have been given a huge gift by being accepted into this community of storytellers. And I guess I just needed to thank the universe, and in particular a certain friend who suggested I apply for the job (thank you, Robin!!) and the generous person who hired me (thank you, Diane!!), for helping me find my way here.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Monday Morning Warm-Up:
Share a story about a time you bonded with another writer(s) or shared a special "we are writers" moment.