artist in residence

So here I am, ensconced in my very nice hotel room in Banff, two days into my artist in residence writing program.

Things got off to an interesting start when I had an unscheduled 30 hour layover in Frankfurt because my company bought such a cheap ticket that I was forcibly bumped from my flight due to overbooking, only to arrive in Denver to massive snow storms. My friend Will kindly picked me up at the airport, fed me, and even helped me pack. The poor thing drove me through a snowstorm to DIA so I could catch my flight to Banff the day after I got to Denver. The flight was delayed, and I ended up getting here at 1 in the morning Friday. Jet lag doesn't even begin to describe how I'm feeling right now. I won't even go into dealing with the switch from 100 degree F temps to 30 degree temps.

Friday at 8 am I had a work con call (was I even there? not really) and then a 10 am orientation for the writing program. I almost fell asleep. The other participants in the program are famous, most of them athletes, they've all published before, and I was getting more and more intimidated as we went around the circle to talk about our projects. I was the last to go, so I started by saying "I think I'm the outlier in the group. I actually have a corporate job." One of the participants said "You mean...you get a paycheck?"

Everyone has made a huge effort to make me feel at home, and I'm embarrassed to say I've been having these insane conversations just because I am finally in a group that can talk about subjects other than farting. The publisher I'm working with is great, and I'm meeting his wife on Monday because she has a similar story to mine.

I met with him one on one this morning. I was worried about the meeting because, on the multiple plane rides out here, I realized I wasn't quite sure what my book was about. We spent most of the 2 hours talking about structure. He gave me a new writing assignment that needs to be done by Sunday night so it can be workshopped next week (I'm the second writer to be workshopped - the first is an award winning, published writer - yeah, no pressure). I wrote for most of the day today, and will be getting up early to finish tomorrow. I spent 5 hours on the writing assignment and am only halfway through (never could say anything in 20 words or less, to quote concrete blonde).

I did take an hour and a half to go to the gym. I ran two miles, felt fine, except that towards the end all the stuff in my lungs started making bad noises. The last 5 minutes of my run I sounded like a rattling car. Right after I got off the treadmill a woman sprayed it down with chemicals. How embarrassing.

But. Carrying on. It's the first time in my life I've had the opportunity to do nothing but write. So, I'm happy.