There can be no one aftermath.
I sat upstairs in the English Market this afternoon, going back through my “Moleskine notebook (lined).
I used a green highlighting pen. Put names in hand-drawn boxes, and circles around intentions. Every time I carry through something I planned, I give myself a big tick (fulfilling my bottomless love of positive feedback).
I put the date on every page, the place I was, the time…
Now it looks like a live animal.
I’d forgotten how rich the notebook became during Writers’ Week. There are drawings and prose contributed by others – people willing to take up my book and mark the page.
I was incredibly excited going to Listowel.
I was incredibly tired leaving for home. The journey to and the road home are part of my LWW09 experience.
First Moleskine entry reads
Listowel Arms Hotel @ 1450 on Wed. 27 May.
- Booked in to the hotel (put name on list) for 2010
- The family manage the hotel between them.
- Met George Rowley & James McGrath sitting in bar.
- George’s story of mental illness [all in his book]
- Met Colm Toibin, told him of blog – he listened, I shook his hand.
The last entry [43 pages, 4 days & 4 hours later] reads:
M Sweeney – reading with…
The End.
For me now, the challenge is to walk the space between being an archivist (valuing the Moleskine as a document of record) and an artist (stretching, moulding & sculpting the Moleskine, so that it reaches out to the imagination of others).
I’m a hoarder and long-winded. I talk&write and write&talk and sense&listen.
I wonder how others are processing the experience?
Wouldn’t it be wonderful if people who read this immediately write a comment & share insight into the joy of ending
- flashing on the inward eye… (pardon me William Wordsworth)