One year down!

Tuesday I finished my first year in graduate school.

It sounds so odd to say that. It was just six years ago that I--while spending a month in Sedona, AZ finally succumbed to the siren call of the classroom. But unlike going to college at 18, if you go back to school in your 50s you have to have a reason or people just think you're nuts. Actually, they probably think so anyway, but if you have some sort of purpose in mind they will nod sagely and wish you well.  They also walk away shaking their heads and muttering under their breath that they think you're crazy--and you worry they might be right.

 At first I told everyone who asked that I was just going to take a few classes,and maybe major in art history. When you've spent 20 years painting murals  for a living, that sounds somewhat reasonable. But in my very first week, I knew I'd found my niche--the college classroom was a perfect fit. I hadn't had so much fun in years!

Here I am today, one quarter (and a whole lot of writing) away from a master's degree--not exactly what I envisioned when I started, but exactly where I found I wanted to be. Now that the quarter is over and I've had a day to recuperate (I worked all day yesterday so that didn't count as a day off), I am ready to begin the next step in earnest.

Next weekend, I travel to LA to present my research at a graduate student conference, and 12 days after that I'm headed to Iowa  to continue the work on my book project. I've been arranging to spend some time the 150+ year old original manuscript of the diary that is the inspiration for my project, making hotel reservations (plus four days on a real Iowa farm!) and plotting my route to criss-cross the state in search of the few remaining physical connections to someone who died almost 70 years before I was born, but who has become so very real and important to me.

I've found Emily's house (or at least its general vicinity, along with the name of the family who lived there 14 years ago), her grave, and her diary. I'm ready to meet her hometown and the landscape where she spent nearly 30 years of her life. I'm ready to wilt in the heat and hear the wind in the cornfields, and I'm ready to introduce Emily to the very imaginary woman whom she will befriend and tell her life story to.

I'm also ready to come home and write their story.

(and I'm ready to enjoy my first summer off in six years while I write!)

I'm also planning to do a better job about staying up-to-date with this blog, and will be posting form Iowa (provided I can find an internet connection on my farm). Stay tuned for more from Iowa!