In what I wish was the beginning of a joke, I ate so hard during the Thanksgiving holiday I may have injured my esophagus. Probably a gift from my trip to Vietnam, where one of my anti-malarial pills got stuck in my throat as I went to bed. Suffice to say, I was in quite a bit of discomfort and in the market for some good news when, lo and behold, I was contacted by the Iceland Writers Retreat.
I’m happy to share that I’ve been selected to receive one of five Alumni Awards to attend this workshop. My fellow award winners look to be doing meaningful work, and I am very excited for this opportunity. As a side note, I was a finalist for this award last year, so I recommend that anyone interested in this experience to persevere and keep applying.
For more information, you can find IWR’s release here and see just a few of the amazing people I’ll have the pleasure of meeting this coming April.
I have a lot to be grateful for, always, but especially in the last month. And, as there is no lack of need for more gratitude in this world, I will take this opportunity to quickly and insufficiently outline mine here.
I recently traveled to Vietnam with my Father where, for the first time in 51 years almost to the day, we visited the sites of his war. It was a complicated experience, and my mind is still buzzing with the swarm of implications, emotions, and sensory details of it all. In the next little bit, I hope to find some clarity that will enable me to share this journey and what it meant/means.
Since returning, my upcoming multi-disciplinary art show, Convergence, has finished its call for artists and selected an incredible variety of works to exhibit. I cannot thank the artists who submitted work enough. It was humbling and invigorating to see the many ways people are engaging with both the perceived human/animal divide and the very real effects of the Anthropocene.
And just this past weekend, for Veterans Day/Armistice Day, my Father and I were humbled to put on a workshop/reading/conversation for veterans and their families. It was an intimate and powerful experience. I thank everyone who came out, shared their stories, and listened to our perspectives on how to use writing to convey experiences that can often be difficult to translate into words for the benefit of both the veteran and those who love them.
Both these events were made possible by the support of the Center forCreativity and I look forward to doing more work with them in the future.
Lastly, my Father and I were interviewed for Words on Air, by the OSU Center for Poets and Writers. We each read a bit of our work and spoke, briefly, on what patriotism and service looks like to us and how racism is antithetical to both (though no less common for it). I’m excited to share it with you as soon as it is live.
Thanks to everyone who made these events possible. And thanks to you for being interested.
The spring and summer of 2018 have been more focused on creating and submitting proposals for events and projects as they have been about actual writing. And as such, I’ve had little to show, publication-wise, for the year, but I’ve been able to create and participate in more events with my community here in Tulsa. That may not inflate my sense of writer-legitimacy, but I think it soothes the soul by bringing meaningful work to audiences who may or may not otherwise have access to it.
That said, another of the projects I’ve been preparing for has been announced and this one is near to my heart.
After Action Reports is a joint reading/workshop for veterans and their families that I will be facilitating with my father, John Musgrave (recently featured in the Ken Burns Documentary The Vietnam War). This reading comes from two sources: my father’s writing (available here), which has always been a means of healing and processing for him after returning from Vietnam; and my strange relationship to his war, having grown up both utterly disconnected from it and yet intimately shaped by it. After Action Reports hopes to offer tools for how to make writing a viable tool for for veterans and their families, through the combined perspectives of a Marine Infantryman and his adult, civilian son.