So for the last several months I’ve been suicidally depressed. I’m doing okay now, and I think the worst of these feelings has passed for now. I’ve had this experience before, a half-dozen or so times in my life, maybe more. This time, as in other times, I had the strong urge to write about what I was going through, thinking and feeling, experiencing. I wanted to document it; I don’t entirely know why. I’m a writer, and that’s a part of it, but there’s something more than that. The idea of writing directly, openly, and as honestly as I can about what I’m experiencing is an idea that scares me even as it excites me. I’m afraid of what people will think, even as I remind myself that people are thinking a lot less about me than I am thinking about what other people might be thinking about me.
It's been an embarrassment of riches for me lately. I received the VCCA residency last August, and since then, I'm happy to say that I have been awarded two more residencies.
First, I'm excited to say that I've been accepted for a one-month residency fellowship at the Virginia Center for the Creative Arts. I'll be there in January to continue work on revising The Accountant. A few friends have gone there, and it sounds like a lovely place to do work.