People Who Own Things and Have Great Health Insurance

This Monday, I’m going to the Virginia Center for the Creative Arts.

It’s a place I like very much.

They set you up with three meals a day, a place to work and a place to sleep, and good company. They leave you alone so you can work. I’ve been there three times before, over the years.

The third time I went there was in March of 2020.

Yeah. That March of 2020.

I wanted to do it right, that time. I wanted to bring a car, so I would have a way to get groceries from the grocery store. VCCA is pretty isolated, which is part of why it’s good. But that also makes it hard to buy groceries.

So I drove fifteen hours in a little car, and two days after I got there they sent an email that said I had to leave. The place was shutting down.

This trip I’m taking next week is like my makeup stay there.

I already finished the big project I went there to work on in March of 2020. So I don’t know what I’ll work on this time.

I have options.

I want to work on my novel about men hanging out and helping other men as they psychoanalyze each other without any training. I want to figure out men.

I want to write short stories about people having strong feelings about life and buying luxury goods.

Maybe I’ll write one about someone who is driving a Lexus and thinking about wine and divorce.

Maybe I’ll write something else that’s meant for an audience of wealthy people who own things and have great health insurance. It seems like I should probably do that, and stop writing about things like married people who hate each other.

At the moment, though, I’m not committed to working on anything in particular. I’m not knee-deep in a novel, or whatever.

I’m just here.

I was thinking of going to VCCA and seeing how long I can go without writing anything.

Like, what if I challenge myself to go to this residency and relax? Just sit and stare at the ceiling, or look at clouds?

Why not sleep all day, take long walks in the evenings, go back to bed four hours after I wake up?

I think that approach might last twenty minutes. I couldn’t relax for longer than that to save my life.

Wait.

Hang on.

I know what I’ll do at VCCA.

I’ll go there and get settled in, and before I’m even settled I’ll put an incredible amount of pressure on myself to write something that makes the whole trip worth it. I’ll place unreasonable expectations on myself, so that no matter how much I accomplish there I’ll come away feeling like I’ve done nothing.

Yes. That’s it.

That’s what I’ll do.