On the Road

If you're ever running low on gas on I-84 heading South, do not, I repeat, do not, try your luck on Port Jervis. Don't let the signage fool you. There are no gas stations. There are however very unfriendly burgers:

And then there's this guy:
One plus for the town, while they may not have a gas station right off of the highway, they do have a surprisingly popular off-ramp swimsuit tent-sale.

And yes, all of the above pictures were taken as I drove around for miles searching for a convenient way to fill my gas tank. I eventually gave up, but had no difficulty getting back to the highway - thanks to my new best friend ever:

She even helped me find the nearest grocery store after I got to the hotel.

Hummus, whole wheat pita, Puffins. So healthy. Until...

Chocolate flavored kettle corn. And actually it's not too bad for you, just not exactly vegetables.

And on that note, the shoes are off. And I'm off to bed.

Workshop

According to their website the workshop is like boot camp and focuses heavily on exercises to spark the generation and revision of new work.

I specifically chose to apply to this workshop because I'm now a full year out from having been in any sort of workshop setting. And because I spend a solid 75% of my time with people under the age of four. And because I never have quiet moments to write. I have somewhat less busy moments, but I'm always somewhat on the edge, just waiting for the next alarm to sound, for the next poop-cident to drag me miles away from any sort of creative and industrious moment.

I chose Kenyon because I need some alone time to write. And I chose a workshop over say, renting a hotel room by myself for a week, because I need to surround myself with like-minded people. Otherwise, I would no doubt spend my afternoon's alone wandering antique shops or my evenings staring at mindless television, while the screen saver swirls over the laptop monitor (which would be on a table surrounded by pints of fat-free ice cream and crumpled bags of cheddar flavored Quakes and whatever other food I can never eat around my kids without them clammoring for more, more, more.)

I need the space, but I also need the boot, so to speak.

But, now only a week away from arriving, I'm feeling more than a little overwhelmed. I wouldn't go so far as to say I'm dreading it, because I certainly am not. I'm very much looking forward to it. I'm just anxious. Mostly because the story I used to apply to the program has since been accepted for publication (yay) - so I opted to submit a different sample, a story -gulp- that I have doubts about. No one asked me to do this, this was all me.

What was I thinking? That I would love being torn apart (sorry, constructively criticized)? That my ego could use a good thrashing?

Obviously not. I'm no masochist. No, I decided to submit the story-in-question, in an uncharacteristic moment of rational thought. For that strange short moment of clarity before pressing send, I understood that whatever issues I'm having with this story, I haven't been able to fix on my own - so it might be good to get the help of fellow writer's.

I haven't had too many moments like that since then. Then again, I've been dealing with other matters here (fleas, for one - ugh). Which again, brings me back to why I applied to the workshop in the first place.

Time to find my big girl pants and just get it over with.