Mechele became one of my closer friends over the residency. I went with her to the orientation for new students, and met several other great people. I was a little disappointed that I didn't immediately meet any other poets though, as it turned out that I was the only new poet that was accepted this semester. I ended up meeting the other poets the next day during our workshops, lectures, etc. Before I went to Murray, I was afraid that I would be competing with egos, feeling a bit on the outside circle, but everyone was so extremely kind and welcoming. I can't say that I felt like an outsider for long.
I think that was one of the things I liked most about the Murray MFA setup. We're often thrown together into situations that leave a lot of room for socialization (nightly readings and receptions, lunches and dinners together). We got to know each other fast, and the first day of workshop with my group was really the only day that I felt shy and uncertain. I was very fortunate to be paired up with people that turned out to be so extremely nice and helpful, not to mention my mentor, Blas Falconer. One week, and I can already see an improvement in my writing.
I wish that my internet had been working during my trip to Murray, so that I could have done a daily post explaining everything that happened, but, since I didn't have internet, I'm having to do this summary, which doesn't really do justice to such a great experience. I probably won't even hit all the highlights.
But! The one thing I am most proud of occured last night: the MFA student reading. I was terrified all week long about this reading, and, though it was optional, I was quickly informed that all the poets expected each other to read, so I had to live up to those expectations, as I wanted to make a good first impression. So I picked out my favorite poem, took it to workshop, and had my new friends and mentor help me tear it up and put it back together. Then, my next problem: finding my reading voice.
I just couldn't find it. For anything. Until my mentor finally pulled his desk directly in front of mine, leaned in right up to my face, and said, "Read it like you're telling me a story. Tell me a story." I had to start over two or three times, but it finally--finally!--clicked. I did it. I read my poem in my poet voice, which I'd never known I'd had. I thought I would just be a horrible reader.
I got up last night, stood at that podium, told myself I was fine, that I wasn't nervous, and even though I couldn't talk myself out of my nerves, I actually pulled it off. Despite the fact that I felt as if my lungs were constricting and could barely get any breath--like breathing through a straw--I forced myself through it, read it like I practiced, and received several really great compliments--the most important of which came from my mentor, who I knew would tell me I sucked if I sucked. It was good for my first time, and I really felt like I accomplished something, even though, when I got back to my table, I couldn't remember even having read, because I was so nervous.
It was, by far, my most memorable moment from this whole past week, and it still doesn't do the experience justice. I felt part of the real, sophisticated, adult world. Particularly at the school-catered dinners. Those were fancy dealings. And then the nightly receptions: treats and champagne. I mean, really, I felt like I was really something. All in all, I have to say that I believe I've made the right decision deciding to continue my education. I want to fully realize my dream to be a writer, and, after a bit more help, I'm going to start submitting for publication, and I have all the great friends I made to thank for that.
Despite that the residency was what I really wanted to chart, I plan to keep up this blog with thoughts on the tutorial half of my semester any time that I feel there's something worthy of recording.
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