For forty three years writers have been coming together in the picturesque scape of Squaw Valley to do nothing other than hone the craft of the written word. It’s so wonderfully of my world that it seems like something I would make up in a day dream. I received my acceptance this week to Squaw Valley’s summer writing program. The realist wondered immediately how I was going to pay for it seeing as how I just got back from the other side of the world and am conveniently unemployed. Then the dreamer who tends to take up more of being immediately banished all worry. I am beside myself with anticipation on spending a fine week in July around some of the most talented writers we have to offer right now. Janet Fitch will be there. I geeked out. Her novel White Oleander changed the trajectory of my life as I finally decided to embrace the gift of writing that had been haunting me my whole life. I am grateful and proud to be among the 126 writers making the trek this summer. Cheers.