My dearest friend is at MacDowell (actually she's here right now, but don't tell anyone). It's her second time. Last night we caught up and talked about the dear deer and the good and talented people she's met. It made me want, very much, to apply to an arts colony. I haven't ever applied because I've had a full-time job in publishing for years and years. I like my job a great deal, and I am very GRATEFUL for it, but it doesn't allow for months off or long uninterrupted hours of writing. So if I did get in, I wouldn't be able to attend. I did have a fellowship at the Provincetown Fine Arts Work Center in 2001-2002. For seven months I wrote, and walked, and went a little crazy. It was wonderful and terrifying.
But today, I've decided to create my own MacDowell. I have given into the fact that I write at my kitchen table (I'm sorry desk, you're too far away, and rather uncomfortable). I bought a lamp a few weeks ago at a junk shop (it's green marble!) and a little 70's style table for all my "currently reading" books. Welcome to MacDowell. A little corner in my kitchen. For the weekends. And for evenings. And for any moment I can carve out for myself to write, and read, and stare.
Now, if only you will stop by and drop off lunch in a basket, I'll be all set.