Last year I hastily applied for a two-week fellowship at a writers’ colony that is only an hour from my home. I had put off entering because, you know… was I qualified? What would I submit as a writing sample? Also, was it even possible for me to leave home for more than a single night??

So, of course, I decided on the evening it was due to go ahead and throw my hat in. Ridiculous. So dumb. I should be banned from applying for things.

In case you didn’t guess, I did not receive the fellowship. I’m sure, even, that the people who read my application probably hung it on a bulletin board somewhere as an example of what not to do when one applies for something. It was bad.

But my husband, after he got past the fact that I’d applied for a thing that would mean I would be leaving home for two weeks without even consulting him, suggested that even if I didn’t get the fellowship (he probably had a hunch) I should just reserve a suite and spend some time at the colony sometime anyway.

I refrained from starting to pack my bag at that time. It was a struggle.

When a friend of mine mentioned a few months ago that she would be spending five days at the same writers colony this month, and asked me to come along, I was all in. I did check the dates with my husband ahead of time.

As the time to go got closer, I started feeling a mild nausea hanging around. I wasn’t worried about leaving home, really… (I mean, I did spend a week on a ship in the Caribbean with my sister without anyone losing a limb or burning the house down). I think I was doubting that I would be successful. In fact, I know I was doubting that I would be successful. What if I spent five days away from home and returned home without anything to show for it? What if I had to admit that I am a fraud – that my original statement back in 2008 that “I just don’t have any fiction in me” was truth?

Yesterday I loaded my car with a stack of books from my local library, my laptop, keyboard and monitor, a couple of 3×5 card boxes full of blank cards, a few notebooks, my journal, a sketchbook, various sizes of sticky notes, my earbuds, my Bag of Potential, my favorite coffee cup, my pour-over and coffee, some dark chocolate, soft pants, and two pillows, and headed to Eureka Springs.

Today, I slept until 8 a.m., ran to the store for socks and guacamole, then spent a solid nine hours (9 HOURS!!!!) making notes, organizing chapters, outlining, cleaning up short story ideas, researching submission guidelines, and writing so many words.

And I still have three-and-a-half more days of it ahead of me. I might need more guacamole.