Yesterday was a day unlike any day I’ve ever had at a Warren Wilson Alumni Conference, and that’s saying something, because there have been lots of them, lots and lots of days. I want to say that maybe this is the sixth year in a row and maybe my tenth attendance altogether for a whoppingContinue reading “Dispatches from Writer’s Camp: We Cried And Then We Danced”
Tag Archives: Warren Wilson MFA Alumni Conference
Dispatches from Writer’s Camp: The Next Frontier
Remember that on July 3rd we campers were treated here at Mt. Holyoke College to a fireworks display of stupendous proportions. Yesterday, on the 4th of July, it was quiet. I’m not kidding. After the reading I sat on an Adirondack chair in the dark sipping whiskey in the middle of the lawn and IContinue reading “Dispatches from Writer’s Camp: The Next Frontier”
Dispatches from Writer’s Camp: The Resurrection of the Contest in Order to Exacerbate Feelings of Rejection, a Dongle Dilemma, When a Poem is Not a Poem, One Bad Dream, and More Blessedness.
Things started out kind of rowdy here at Mt. Holyoke. The microphone was wonky. There’s nothing worse than a wonky microphone. Better no microphone than a wonky one. One of our attendees was trapped in his room by tables of books. But he’s got the only refrigerator in the entire building in his roomContinue reading “Dispatches from Writer’s Camp: The Resurrection of the Contest in Order to Exacerbate Feelings of Rejection, a Dongle Dilemma, When a Poem is Not a Poem, One Bad Dream, and More Blessedness.”
Dispatches from Writer’s Camp: The Sermon on the Mount Holyoke
Blessed are the writers who have arrived at Mount Holyoke College to participate in the 2017 Warren Wilson MFA Program Alumni Conference, for they are lucky bastards, and I feel truly blessed and lucky to be here among them. Blessed is the writer who takes the red-eye flight out of Portland at midnight, sleeps throughContinue reading “Dispatches from Writer’s Camp: The Sermon on the Mount Holyoke”
A Single Dispatch from Writer’s Camp on the 40th Anniversary of the MFA Program for Writers at Warren Wilson College
First of all, I was sick with a cold when at 10:30 pm I boarded the plane for a red-eye from Portland to Atlanta, a nearly five hour flight through most of which I would be sneezing and blowing and stuffing kleenex into my own private trash bag that I kept discreetly stuffed into theContinue reading “A Single Dispatch from Writer’s Camp on the 40th Anniversary of the MFA Program for Writers at Warren Wilson College”
A Single Dispatch from Writer’s Camp 2015
It’s quiet on campus. Everyone has gone home. It’s just me and Mark, the dorm all to ourselves. He’s here still because he can’t travel on the Sabbath. I’m here to simply take a few deep breaths, to take advantage of some solitude before heading home. I went down to the cafeteria tonight for dinner,Continue reading “A Single Dispatch from Writer’s Camp 2015”
The Post Writer’s Camp Blah Blah Blahs: How to Deal
Of course I was happy to be home. Of course I missed my family and was immensely glad to see them. Of course I didn’t miss that ugly, tiny, springy, single dorm mattress and that sweltering dorm room. Of course it was good to sleep in my own bed on the second night home,Continue reading “The Post Writer’s Camp Blah Blah Blahs: How to Deal”
Dispatches From Writer’s Camp: A Wally By Any Other Name
I’ve never understood how graduates from the MFA in Creative Writing program at Warren Wilson College came to refer to themselves as Wallies. It turns out to be an ancient practice, going back all the way to the year the program moved to Warren Wilson from Goddard College in 1981. I’ve done a little researchContinue reading “Dispatches From Writer’s Camp: A Wally By Any Other Name”
Dispatches From Writer’s Camp: A Room Of One’s Own With A View
I offer up a rumination about rooms, on this 5th day of Writer’s Camp for Wallies. In the best of all possible worlds, if one is a writer, one needs a room of one’s own, but it would also be fine if it provided a view, a good view, of something either internally interesting or externally,Continue reading “Dispatches From Writer’s Camp: A Room Of One’s Own With A View”
Dispatches From Writer’s Camp: Tropical Flesh Mandala
I slept for seven hours cuddled up with my tiny electric fan–literally. I thought maybe I’d roll over in the middle of the night and knock it off the mattress, or, worse, dreaming that I was snuggling with this machine, I might wake up with my hair caught in the fan blades. No, it was safeContinue reading “Dispatches From Writer’s Camp: Tropical Flesh Mandala”
michael jarmer 