Let me start by dropping to my knees in a humbled apology for promising a semester of rich writing, only to silence my blog yet again. It feel like it's an old shirt; I won't let it go, but I can't seem to find a reason to wear it. Surely I am not suffering from writers' block. Bukowski would roll his eyes and string a line of profanity around me like a goddamn Christmas tree if I tried to crutch on that excuse.
This semester is moving ever so slowly and yet it's already March. I feel as though I've been perpetually buried under papers that need to be graded....
Here's the stack that's sending voodoo at me as a blog away (surely, they are the reason for my heartburn this evening).
Everywhere else, March is a museless month. A purgatory between the nostalgia of winter and the fire of summer. "It's one of those [months]... when the sun shines hot and the wind blows cold: when it is summer in the light and winter in the shade" (Dickens). But ... not in Hawaii. Here, March is just like May, or September, or November. So I have no excuse.
As of late, however, I've been embedded in a project, a baby if you will; not of the written word, though a derivative thereof. At my college, I've started a Writers' Guild, a writing community for the students, faculty and staff wherein we can meet for an hour each week to think, write, inspire, be inspired and workshop each other's work.
Our group is of royal lineage. I was inspired to model this group after the SUNY Tompkins-Cortland Community College Writers' Guild. In fact, the TC3 Guild members are mentoring our Guild members. They are fostering our growth as a writers' group. But long before that and inspiring the birth of the Guild at TC3, are the writing communities of Gertrude Stein, of James Joyce and of Hemmingway's son. The expatriates, the Lost Generation of artists who flocked to Paris in the early twentieth century to avoid oppression and censorship of their artistic muse. These writers met in cafes. They workshop and wrote and labored toward legend and legacy.
So we have initiated the next legacy of writers in Hawaii. Our writers' community is 1 month and six days old. It weighs in with eight students and six faculty members. The logistical administrative paperwork is complete and as of Friday, we are officially recognized by the college as a student co-curricular club. Of course, I made the empty promise to myself that blogging would surely ignite once the foundation of the Guild set firm. Since Friday's official club notice, however, I've received four additional emails with dates, meetings, reports and adjustments that need immediate attention. We haven't gained enough moment to coast, but we are surely exerting enough energy that we should get there by next semester.
I wish I could share the club website with the collective 'you' (hi mom! hi Nicholas!), but for now, I can share our Facebook page. Hopefully our Minister of Propaganda will feverishly update Facebook with photos and news to share with our followers. Here's my shameless plea: 'like' us on Facebook to spread the word about the newest Writers' Guild in the Pacific ocean.
You're amazing. I love this. xoxo
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