Daily Word Count: 2,668
Cumulative Words Written: 17,847
Total Words Discarded: 3,200
Total Chapters Drafted: 7
Time Spent Writing Today: 3 hours
I’ve never been an exhibitionist creator. Nope, I don’t like an audience for my creating. That’s why I’m locked in a room in the middle of the Portuguese high desert, far from any urban center.
I accept trade-offs for this kind of creating.
In Wales, I didn’t have access to laundry but was expected to wash my sheets at least every two weeks. I had to supply all my own towels and act as my own maid if I wanted my room cleaned.
In Switzerland, I had laundry facilities but had to share them with everyone in the house. Whenever my bladder called in the night, I had to pad up a flight of unfamiliar stairs in the dark, creep through the studio, and use a toilet one floor away. The other residents deemed the door shelves in the waist-high fridge my sole domain, while they stuffed its maw full to bursting.
Residencies always come with these sorts of trade-offs.
And why shouldn’t they? I’m paying almost nothing (in some cases, literally nothing) to spend six weeks creating in Europe. I never expect pristine conditions, maid service, and constant comfort. After all, creating is putting ourselves out of our comfort zones, right?
But this residency has challenged me in a yucky way.
Remember the bathroom I crowed about, the one I don’t have to share with anybody? Well, the moisture and darkness attracts roaches. Big, nasty palmetto bugs that skitter through the darkness, buzz up the walls, and thrash on the bare floor as they die.
The residency is doing everything they can to eradicate them, but as anyone who knows anything about roaches knows, it isn’t always straightforward. Construction in the back garden stirs them up. Above-average temperatures make them desperate for cool, dark spaces like my bathroom. It isn’t always easy to find the cracks and crevices where they come in. Getting completely rid of them takes time.
They’ve been treating them with organic materials. Which is admirable. Probably safer for the humans here. For a week, this southerner played along.
And after dreaming the floor of my room pulsed with thousands and thousands of roaches, I woke up this morning and said, “To hell with organic!”
I drove myself to the Pingo Doce this afternoon and bought a box of the big guns: Raid Roach Motels. When I got back, I slung those babies all around my room. Is the whole box of six too much? BECAUSE I DON’T THINK SO.
Tomorrow morning, when I settle into my first down dog, I won’t come eyeballs-to-tentacles with a dead roach six inches from my face. I hope I don’t find them upended all over my room.
May they check into their lovely roach motels AND NEVER LEAVE.
NAMASTE, EVERYONE!
To follow my residency from the beginning, CLICK HERE and read forward.
9 Comments
I prefer to think of roaches as small, unfinished joints. Also, I like your tree photo.
I’m sure you do. Ha. And thank you.
it’s all about balance )
Yes. The scales weigh heavily in favor of this experience. 🙂
Even with the pitfalls you make these residencies look like writer’s havens.
They’re havens to create. Jen and I were talking about it at dinner, how this is the only place with no boundaries, no rules, no responsibilities. Life is so structured and noisy at home. Even fighting it distracts.
You have given me cause to consider something I never thought I needed Andra.
Happy to have you pick my brain. ?
🙂
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