Return to Iowa

Three years ago, when my writing project kicked off, I went to the University of Iowa - a writer's Mecca - to attend a workshop. I was nervous and excited and overwhelmed. (I wrote about it here: http://beckymacd.blogspot.com/2009/06/done-and-done.html) And I vowed that I would go back again.

Last week I did, this time for a conference devoted to writing and the art of medicine. Three days of panels and workshops on topics ranging from the ethics of writing about patients and family members to how we can write about death and dying to the options in the world of self-publishing to how writing can help us as clinicians to take better care of our patients... and keep ourselves well, too. There was even a how-to session offering tons of information about getting started as a physician who also writes (and gets paid for it).

You can imagine how freaking excited I was to be there again, among like-minded people who don't give me a funny look when I say that I'm a medical student writing a collection of essays on the side.

The last time I was there, I was unsure of myself, wondering if I really deserved to be there alongside real writers. This time, I dove right in. I stood up and read an excerpt from one of my stories in front of a crowd of more than fifty people. I eagerly shared the words I scribbled during on-the-spot writing exercises in various workshops.

There was another difference, too. Three years ago, I felt so compelled to extract every single sliver of potential fabulousness out of the weekend that I went a little nuts. I hoofed it all over the town, lugging my ginormous then-laptop on my shoulder, determined to visit every single little bookstore and boutique (there are lots) lest I miss one possible winning experience. I felt compelled to be on the move the whole time, because what if I failed to make the most of my time there? What if I was doing it all wrong?

Last week, I visited one store: Prairie Lights, my favorite independent bookstore from my last visit. In fact, I went there twice. The rest of the time I spent doing whatever I needed to do at a particular moment. One morning I skipped the first conference session in favor of some more sleep and a run. I didn't go out to any restaurants that looked like they just had to be experienced. In fact, one night I brought a Quizno's sub back to my hotel room to visit with Tay over Skype. And after I heard the US Poet Laureate speak (because, really, how could I skip that?), I ditched the evening reception in favor of heading somewhere quiet... to write.