Tomorrow I’m off to Ireland! I’ve discussed before here the wonderful writers’ retreat, Anam Cara.  It’s hard to believe that this will be my sixth stay, but it’s a testament to what a wonderful and important place it’s become to me.  Before I found Anam Cara, I knew no other writers, anywhere.  I had never had a discussion with another writer about the process of writing, the associated fears and dreams, the horrors and joys of it all.  I had never had a discussion with another writer about anything.  It’s true.  I was like some character out of Star Trek — I knew there were other beings in the universe like me, but I had never come across any of them.  Meeting other writers and learning they were just as insane as me was the first gift given to me by Sue Booth-Forbes and the magical place she has created.  The second gift was a glimmer of confidence in my own work.  Often the residents will share their work after dinner, and I’ll never forget the first time I was “forced” to read something I had written.  I sat on the couch near the fire in the living room, among a small group of people who had already become my friends, who were sharing their own work and extraordinarily careful about the way they received the work of others.  It was the safest possible place for me to read aloud.  But when I started to read what went on to be a chapter from “Tangled Roots,”  my hands started to shake so much I could barely hold my computer.  I’ll never forget how Sue silently came to sit by my side, gently placed her hand on my leg, and somehow drained away my fear. That was only about three or four years ago, and it amazes me to realize how far I’ve come since then.

There is nothing competitive about Anam Cara.  You don’t have to “apply” to get a spot.  If there is availability, you can go.  But you do have to have a project that you’re working on.  This time I’m going to work on my new novel — you know, the one set in Cambodia.  I’m going to dive headfirst into it in a more intensive, prolonged way than I’ve been able to do since I began to promote “Tangled Roots.”  And, to be honest, I find myself getting scared again.  Will I be able to find the words that will help me achieve all I hope to achieve with this book?  Will I be able to live with those inevitable silent moments in my head? Something special always happens to me out there in the westernmost tip of Ireland. Who knows what it will be this time? I’ll tell you all about it when I return to “civilization” next week (internet access out there is dodgy enough to make blogging a bit dicey).
In the meantime, here’s a little ditty about one of my absolute favourite Irishmen, ever (and I’ve known quite a few in my day)!