A WRITER’S JOURNEY, PART 4
My options in 1990 were a personal computer or a word processor. I knew computer geeks, such as they were, back in high school. My understanding was these guys had mathematical abilities, of which I was limited. Even though personal computers had evolved by that time and were soon to take off, I opted for a Brother Word Processor. To me, it was like a typewriter where I could print AND store my work. (Oh, and by the way, I still have that relic, now 32 years later.)
The notion of writing and revising and editing as well as saving impressed me. It encouraged me. I didn’t have to rely on pencils and pens and notebooks (although they were far easier to carry around for those burst of inspiration). I could wipe the slate clean or revise and enhance. That simple ideal pushed me forward.
I had a crap job and meager living situation. But I was close to the subway and could access Boston easily. The fact that the subway didn’t run past eleven p.m. meant I would have to curtail any socializing I would desire. All I was truly interested in was being immersed in a place I had longed to be a part of since I was a boy. The city had not only newspapers but also independent periodicals, rag mags, that identified the artistic goings on in the city. It was from one of them I found a poetry reading.
The first time, I went into the city prior to this reading, found a restaurant where I ordered a Caesar salad with anchovies and a glass of red wine. For several years, this would be my go-to treat. The reading series, at first called the New Writers Collective, contained a highly disparate group of people. Wishing to simply gather an understanding of what this was all about, I sat in the back, listened to the featured speaker, listened to those who had signed up to read, observed, and took in as much as possible.
Two gentlemen approached me after and introduced themselves. so there is no need to rehash it here. However, I now had a word processor. I was living in Massachusetts, a few subway stops from downtown Boston. And I became someone and started making friends.
The period from 1990 to 1994 was the most productive for me from a poetry standpoint. However, one could consider it an overall literary education. I was surrounded by all types of writers and artists. Again, this is during a time of no internet and very limited technology. I went to the library, sat for hours reading, and then took out books to bring back to my home, such that it was. I sat outside on park benches or in coffee shops. There were jokes and playful teasing. There were friendships based on deeper and more meaningful connections.
It was an education unlike college. Ideas were free flowing. Experimenting was how one developed one’s craft. Not to mention poetry readings where you would have to “put yourself out there” and present your work. The culmination of my efforts was my Charlie Parker inspired long piece, “Ornithology” (previously discussed here). It was a glorious time.
But just like the post-college Bohemian days, there was no direction, no desires other than submitting a poem to a magazine or literary review. A few attempts at fiction, a couple of rejection letters from agents, are now treasured memories. I had a better job, made a little more money, and even had a checking account. Writing was developing. My appreciation for a variety of forms was being enhanced. My learning was increasing. But without the balance that life can provide, my development as a writer was almost meaningless.
That’s when I moved to Kansas.
NEXT: She set it all in motion.
