Last winter, my friend Heidi told me about a writing workshop, and it sounded good. I applied. Heidi applied. And we were both accepted. The writer’s workshop starts next Monday, and I’m a little bit antsy about it.
Now, on paper and in my mind, it sounds all good and stuff. Four days a week for four weeks (give or take a few to make up for the holiday) spent talking about writing, teaching and actually doing writing. Lots of writing.
Basically it’s an extended date with what my husband calls my boyfriend — my laptop.
For someone who likes to write and talk about writing, it is very appealing. And it is more appealing because I’m not paying to go. In fact, when it is all done and over with, I will get a small stipend. Not bad.
I expect it to be a wonderful experience. In fact, I can only think of one bad thing about the entire deal — but it is a very big bad thing – it involves leaving my family for days at a time. And I LIKE my family. I will be leaving Monday morning at 6:30 a.m. and I’ll be gone until Thursday evening most weeks.
The schedule will actually be the following:
Week 1: Monday through Thursday, 8 a.m. to 8 p.m. (I have a scheduling conflict Thursday morning, so I am actually going to have to come home Wednesday night after 8 p.m., and go back Thursday afternoon.)
Week 2: Monday and Tuesday, 8 a.m. to 4 p.m.
Week 3: Monday through Friday, 8 a.m. to 4 p.m.
Week 4: Monday through Thursday, 8 a.m. to 4 p.m.
Or pretty close to that schedule.
It will be all kinds of good things, and I expect to throughly enjoy it. I also expect to be homesick. I’m glad I’ll be home on the weekends.
This morning, my husband said, “I’m going to miss you.” And it’s only Friday. I still have three days of being here, and we are already sad about me leaving. Sniff.
Thanks for playing.
