Post-Clarion

While currently sitting at home suffering jet-lag, I feel like I've just woken up from a strange dream. This is my first day home from Clarion 2013, and I don't entirely know what to do with myself. I've recolored the blog here and hooked up my various social medias a bit better. (Tumblr and Twitter are becoming a bad habit of mine.) There is just too much running around my head for me to rest properly and maybe I just need to go over everything one more time. I guess I can recap just a little bit for you guys.

A common description of post-Clarion is scuba decompression. The pressure of forcing words for six weeks and having a constant stream of other's first drafts to read turns the brain into a strange stew that is both anxiety ridden but also strangely intoxicating. It is this addictive latter part that makes Clarion so powerful, but also so very difficult to adjust from once we come home. The pressure of all the words surrounding us is suddenly released and seep out of us leaving us unable to properly eat, plot, or sleep. I've heard this from many people -- instructors and alumni alike -- and what everyone has recommended is time. 

Over the course of Clarion I have written five new first drafts, typed over 40k words, read roughly 100 stories (at least twice apiece) and provided each a heartfelt and head scratching critique. All of this over six weeks, but in reality recounting these numbers doesn't mean anything to me. They don't describe the entertaining frustration of reading a story constructed almost entirely of non-linear footnotes (which was eventually cut up and reassembled on the floor), the sudden realization that you are reading someone's semi-fictional biography (which had multiple occurrences and was equally heartbreaking each time,) or the satisfaction you get when you hear someone yelling in rage from the other room while they are reading your draft. (It was about grammar. I'm not going to lie.) These numbers are merely placeholders for the things that I have done and goals for the work that I still need to do. Numbers speak nothing of the many brilliant people that I have met during my time here.

These six weeks have introduced me to 17 other aspiring writers from a diverse age range and background, and I have fallen deeply in love with all of them. (This speaks completely separately from our brilliant and benevolent instructors who are a constant inspiration.) From east coast, west coast, and even from down under, each and every one of the members of this Clarion class have inspired me at least once (and usually multiple times a person.)

I'm not sure if this strangeness has seeped into my bones for good or if it is but a passing plague, but part of me really hopes that it has nested as a chronic habit. My other hope is that that this habit is contagious. If you have an itch to write, attending Clarion at some point during your short time on earth would be a highly advisable option. Even if life takes a different path, don't stop writing. 

I hope I've entertained, informed, and potentially inspired you, but mild amusement is acceptable too. It's almost one in the morning here and I think I've decompressed enough for this session. I think I can finally sleep.

G'night folks.