{"id":1522,"date":"2009-08-12T22:23:25","date_gmt":"2009-08-13T03:23:25","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.silkentent.com\/Trees\/?p=1522"},"modified":"2009-08-16T11:54:04","modified_gmt":"2009-08-16T16:54:04","slug":"i-had-a-pork-chop-for-dinner","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/www.silkentent.com\/Trees\/?p=1522","title":{"rendered":"I Had a Pork Chop for Dinner"},"content":{"rendered":"

August 12, 2009
\nWednesday
\n<\/strong><\/p>\n

[Bread Loaf] is the place where I grew most into the parts of myself that I love, in my writing as well as in my personal life.\u00c2\u00a0. . . \u00c2\u00a0I will try to blog from there but I cannot promise to do so; there is an inviolable trust among its participants that I am not willing to break. But perhaps I will be able to write about the impact of a reading, a lecture or provide a guest post from a friend or two that will communicate what it means to be there.
\n<\/em> \u00e2\u20ac\u201d Ru Freeman, b. (c.) 1970
\nSri Lankan fiction writer and activist
\nfrom her blog post of August 9<\/a>, the day she left for Bread Loaf 2009<\/p>\n

The main character in Mona Simpson’s story “Lawns” works in her college’s mail room. Sometimes, as a way of touching other people’s lives and maybe taking on some of their personalities, she steals the letters and reads them. Some contain checks, some contain cash, and others she characterizes as “just mundane,\u00c2\u00a0that’s all that’s new, I-had-a-pork-chop-for-dinner letters.”<\/p>\n

I share my fellow Bread Loafer Ru Freeman’s belief that what happens in workshop should stay in workshop. I’ve shared details elsewhere about things that happened to me in a workshop that caused me considerable pain, but I didn’t do so until five years after it\u00c2\u00a0happened. My post yesterday (which alluded to that troubling experience) was a tribute to someone I met here whom I love and whom I miss. Like Ru, I am not interested in spreading gossip or talking about anyone’s dreadful manuscript (and there are some) or embarrassing display of drunkenness or other unwise behavior (and there are some of those, too).<\/p>\n

In truth, I haven’t ever blogged much during the conference. There is just too much to do. I do write in my paper journal, mostly notes from classes and conferences. In 2003, as bad as it was, I did produce five short passages in response to the workshop leader’s writing prompts, and one of them will probably become the seed for my next novel. (How’s that for irony?) An exercise begun in Carol Anshaw’s class in 2004 became the story I took to workshop last year.<\/p>\n

My participation in Bread Loaf this year has taken on in my mind a gigantic significance in my development as a writer. My bumpy road to attendance made me want to pay attention more than ever, capture and savor every moment. I do that best by writing, and by writing publicly. So, like Ru, while I won’t be divulging any secrets or breaking anyone’s trust, I will write about what it’s like to be here, to breathe the air, to look at the light, to figure out where I’ve been and where I’m going.<\/p>\n

And to report that tonight I had a pork chop for dinner.<\/p>\n

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