I had trouble falling asleep in a room that creaked and groaned like it was possessed. I woke up to birdsong. A half hour later I was showered and out on the streets looking for coffee at the ungodly hour of 6:30 AM. The grocery store nearby had weak coffee and lukewarm bagels and I made it back to the room. I spent the morning reading the material for the day and typed up emails that needed to be sent.

I trooped in for lunch and found the dining hall packed. I met people from all over the country who gathered here for the express purpose of writing. There is such joy in being at a table where you do not have to explain yourself and when others talk you just get it. The angst and pain of being on submission, the writer’s block, imposter syndrome, carving time to work – I kept nodding all the time I was seated. I see you, I get you I wanted to scream. I smiled beatifically and picked at my food.

After lunch, we had a quick overview of what this workshop was all about and we all walked a little away to find the location of our workshops. We were ten people huddled around a circular table. We came armed with Macs, notepads, pens, and coffee. We left three hours later our brains buzzing and a high that comes from creative work. Our instructor was hands-on, his feedback incisive and his support tangible.

Over dinner, we talked about our families, our writing journeys, and dreams. I set out for a walk after only to have rain drive me back to my room. I have an hour to go before bed and two essays to read.

Tomorrow we have workshop followed by craft talk by eminent authors.

Musings Yale Yale Writers Workshop Journal Yale Writers Workshop YWW