Thoughts on Being a Visiting Writer

This past week, I had the good fortune –– and great honor –– of being invited to a college where I once taught and in a town where I once lived to kick off the college’s visiting writer series. It was great to see old friends, meet new ones, and reconnect with the public side of my work as a writer.

I gave two readings and book talks, signed a few books, and spent a lot of time with the college’s creative writers. The group of writers is dynamic and thoroughly engaged in the craft. They meet weekly, share their works, talk about the craft, and help motivate each other. Members of the group are at all stages –– from college students first realizing that they love the literary arts, to writers with a novel in the editing stages preparing for agent submissions. And, as with other beneficial writers’ groups I know, there is zero pretenses or ego. Mutual support is borne of the realization that not only is the art difficult, but the road to publication is littered with potholes.

Northern Maine Community College is about eight hours north of my home in western Massachusetts, but the writers I spent time with seemed much closer to me than the 400 miles that separate us. I was the one invited to sign books and speak, but I still stare at the same blank page they do. In fact, the blank page always remains blank until you put your butt in the seat, and take the risk of writing from the heart. And that never gets easier, regardless of how many books you’ve published.

It’s why the writers' community, writ large, is one of the most compassionate and supportive artists’ groups I know of. Need an agent? Here’s my agent’s name. Tell her I recommended you to her. Want a blurb? Send me your book.

And this is especially true if you’re just starting out.

Spending time with this group of talented, fearless, hopeful artists reminded me not only of where I am but of where I’m from, in more ways than one.