Writing in Arden

My writing desk in Arden

Here is where I cop to some truths. I have no work to show for my time in Arden--twenty months, as of this writing. It isn't that I haven't been working; I have. But this has been a challenging time for me creatively. I've heard it said that stressed vines make good wine. If a vine is too lazy or comfortable it won't put its energy into producing fruit. However, if a vine experiences partial drought, the roots will send a signal to the plant to hold back on the leaf production and put more energy into its fruit.

Is that what is happening here? Am I little too happy, too complacent--artistically speaking? Or maybe it is that I am just getting used to the transplant. But here is the thing. I have been creating pages. No artwork to speak of, but I have been writing. Still, it feels like I am working at Penelope's pace. She was the faithful wife of Odysseus who wove a burial shroud by day and undid all her work at night. I write. I rewrite. It is frustrating and solitary work.

I finally finished my novel last July and sent it to my agent. In the intermission, waiting for her to give me her notes, I wrote another novel. A new novel in four weeks. I was very excited about it. But my agent wanted to move ahead with the first novel. I took seven pages of notes during our phone conversation. She wants the novel to have a different tone among other things. And I agree it needs something. But a different tone means the entire thing needs rewritten. I am not sure how many times this thing has been reincarnated.

I am in Arden because of my novel Summers at Blue Lake. For those who don't know the story, in February of 2008, I was the guest author at a friend's book club in Newark, DE. It was there I met Cynthia. Cynthia lives in Arden and has a guest house. One of the scenes in Summers at Blue Lake that takes place in an outdoor Shakespeare performance. Add to that the fact that my main character is an art jeweler. Cynthia knew from reading the book that I would love Arden, so she invited me to come spend the weekend in her Little House. It took over a year for Mark and me to take her up on the offer. We spent our first weekend here in May of 2009. This was pre-Facebook, so we must have kept in touch through email.

I have heard it said that Arden picks you, not the other way around. Our story is such that you cannot dismiss the role of providence. Arden has this underlying energy about it; and I do feel called to live and write here. But I have days--many of them-- when I am appealing to the great creative spirits to help me move forward with my work. It is days like those when I wish I would have told people I was a waitress when I moved in. It is wonderful when people ask about how my novel is coming along, and it is supreme torture. I want to get T-shirts printed. Don't ask about my novel. Or maybe just business cards. People genuinely care about my creative life here in a way that I haven't experienced before. Maybe it is time to get a writers' group together. To trust in this creative community that has  called me hither.