I Am a Child of the Universe, No Less Than the Trees and the Stars. I Have a Right to Be Here.*

I had intended to post every day I was here, but yesterday was so uneventful and full of frustration that I couldn’t think of anything to say. The only event of note was that one of my sisters –- the oldest of my siblings –- turned 50. For four and a half years, all four of us have been in our forties. Now a new door has been opened. Lucky for me, I’m at the end of the line.

Tonight, after continuing frustrations with the work I ostensibly came here to do -- at least at the time I applied to come here -- I took a huge step on my so-called book project. (Hear that, Beth? Though feel free to keep nagging me.)

First, a little background on the last four days:

In between attempts to get some personal writing done, I’ve been taking breaks (sometimes long breaks) to do online research related to the heretofore theoretical book, a biography (yes, a biography, you heard it here first). But even though at some point after I was accepted to come here I decided I would use the time to work on the book project, once I got here I kept trying to concentrate on my other writing.

Meanwhile, I was constantly pulled away by research into the book. (It’s amazing the tidbits you can find by doggedly digging deeper and deeper in Google.) Meanwhile, I was thinking this research wasn’t really a legitimate use of my time here! All the writers here, like me, are a "creative writers"; I harbor fears that I've chosen a lowbrow subject for the book, which on top of that isn't in a genre commonly thought of as creative writing.

You can imagine how much fun it’s been to be inside my head for the last four days.

But the more I’ve told select people here about what I have in mind (I've been coyly dropping hints, they've been begging for details), the more I’ve been emboldened by their positive response (possibly more a response to my evident passion that to the subject itself).

So here’s my huge step: For the first time –- and much sooner than I ever expected to be doing this –- I e-mailed a potential source to see if he had anything to say about my (deceased, female) subject. I had come across a photo on his Web site showing him with my subject on a significant night in her life. Perhaps it was just a fleeting photo op; perhaps they were actually friends. I’ll find out if he writes back.

The reason this step is huge isn’t so much that I did it as it is what I said in the e-mail: I claimed the project as something legitimate. I identified myself as a real writer with a serious purpose. I named it and, in a big sense, committed to it.

Yikes.

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* The title of this post is, of course, a reference (only slightly tongue-in-cheek) to the well-known poem "Desiderata," which has achieved full-on cheesiness status in some quarters but which I also happen to have a lifelong affection for -- echoes of Stuart Smalley notwithstanding.