In Which I Go to Where the Writers Go...

Or shall I say 'In which I went...' now most likely as this lovely adventure took place in the summer of 2015 but still needs to be retold. I'll try to keep it as interesting and honest as I can. Even the gritty embarrassing details since I know we all thrive on that, even if I helps one of us more than the other to bring it back up. But to do any of it, we will have to start at the beginning won't we?

Like to the start of where unlike most summers I have that are spent on the couch besides the lone possibly week at the beach with a virgin daiquiri in hand (though that certainly doesn't sound bad), I did something a little different. Planning from the moment I sent in a sealed envelope filled with about seven pages of writing ranging from poetry to excerpts from novels that have changed vastly since. 

And then I waited until my little acceptance to my Advanced Writing Workshop came back to me in the mail, starting my first solo adventure, until I got there of course. Lugging my bag up to my assigned dorm room I hip checked the door open before yanking my key back out of the sticking door, leaving me in the empty room to set up my bed portion of the room with comforter that draped over what I assumed was supposed to be riot proof furniture to the fact that the entire bed could fall apart at the drop of a hat if you dared moved it up or down from its desired height setting. Proof of that found by my future lecture and shady tree nap partner, Bethany who bared quite the resemblance to Amanda Seyfried.

As the day progressed though, our three person room was filled with Loren to share our freezer of a double, and Emma who got the single, lucky girl, along with quite a few others Loren brought in. Mia sat on the floor, ukulele pinched between her fingers with the question of the reason we were all there on the floor. Writing, specifically what genre our stories liked to sway towards. Already have gone over my roomates, Loren smirked towards Mia, "Oh, you and Kendra are going to get along well."

Mia's eyes picking up from whatever chord she was finding, turned towards me, "What, why?"

"Because she writes erotica."

I preferred to reference it as romance with some spice but I only shrugged with a smile with no shame, causing a laugh from Mia who was a fan-fiction fan to say the least. She probably just hoped that anything I wrote was better than that but just as entertaining.

Loren was right though, Mia and I got along quite well, leading to the question of all questions I was asked through my time at workshop. This one coming up at dinner as simply as someone would ask the person next to them to pass the salt. Only this question was the ever so casual, "So, what is you favorite way to label the male genitalia, in your writing of course."

Who knew it was a question I was meant to answer my entire writing life.

Mia nodded with her own opinions to put in with the tell of that I was apparently writing a slightly smutty romance that I would not be sharing that week or ever until it was in perfect condition, in a very classy way. I sure hope so.

The rest of the campus and people in it came upon us the rest of the day from walking through a near by cemetery to 'bonding' by trying to cook marshmallows of a fire that always came out burnt no matter what you did to try and turn that black crisp to a golden brown. All you ended up with was as if you took a trip to hell and all you got out of it was a bag of candy marked, ashes.

It was alright though as the magical ukule struck again, playing songs in the bug infested grass that still managed to bring a little crowd that swayed like content hippies singing along. The song that we all found ourselves memorizing by the end of the week still manages to bring back the memories of my time spent at this warm summer workshop with a slew of writers and others that may have been just as entertaining. It was our theme song of your and I, you and I. So a good shout out to you Ingrid Michelson.

To be continued...

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