The Writing Conference 2025

 First off.  I'm sorry, BLOG.  I know I've ignored and discounted you yet again.  Please forgive me. You were never far from my thoughts.  I promise to do better. 

Now on to my topic of the day.  Lynda Barry came to Bloomington this week to teach a class and give a lecture for the IU Writing Conference.  I signed up at once.  Love her even more now if that's even possible. She made us draw pictures with our eyes closed and gave us some ideas for generating stories.  She said we were all a bunch of badasses.  High praise indeed. 

I've been going to afternoon classes about fiction, nonfiction and poetry  (Clink these links to find out more about my terrific teachers). 

 My cool classmates have also been a ton o' fun. Why do I avoid meeting new people? My isolationist personality proves to be a  mystery to us all time and time again. 

Speaking of mysteries, I'm writing a poem for my poetry homework this morning.  I don't write poems, but maybe I do now.  We may never know.  Poet Janan Alexandra read a Ross Gay poem. Ode to the Flute.  We wrote it down and then picked a line that stood out to us.  I chose the line "nothing was explained."  This is the poem I'm working on right now that starts with Ross Gay's line.

nothing is explained

in this cabinet of curiosities

you’re on your own, kid

who left this here?

this plastic frog atop the hot sauce bottle

can it be mine now?

baby stares at his dancing hand

does the hand also notice his baby?

is this poem good or bad?

rocks are hurled

answered with flash bang grenades

riddle me this Batman

It is what it is?

Is it what it is?

nothing is explained