Hindman: What Just Happened Here?
As you might have ascertained from my sporadic and detached posts over the past four or five days, my writer’s butt is not in my writer’s chair at my writer’s desk and this brain has a hard time putting words together without that rump-hand-brain connection intact. Guess that means I’d make a crummy travel writer. And I have been traveling. And oh my, have I been busy.
Hindman Settlement School is only a four hour drive from home, but it has been a whole ‘nother galaxy this week, and my head is a’bustin’ with words to process: words about and from the top tier of Appalachian authors; words about the history of Hindman and its most prominent saints, living and gone on; sad and determined words about mountain top removal. And I have so many conversations to process with regard to my own future work.
Fifteen minute ago I spent about that much time with George Ella Lyon, a name that has been in the search engines associated with Fragments now for years because of her “Where I’m From” poem that has been so widely used via this blog and countless writing workshops. She has a good eye for voice and audience and is a quick study; her comments and suggestions about the nature-oriented full-color book were so helpful. But I’m left with a massive bunch of things to process here.
You know, I don’t think I’ll even try to tell Ann about my week. The names and topics of conversation and lecture would mean nothing to her, perhaps neither would they to most of you. But I most likely will come back often to what has transpired this week, mostly for my own ultimate understanding and recollection. Let’s just say a week at Hindman is an expansive experience. Hope I can find the words to tell you more.