I know of someone who writes a quarterly report of his life and emails it to 20 or so of his closest confidants at the start of every season. It’s thoroughly detailed, complete with spreadsheets and photos. He details what God has been teaching him this season, how his numbers at work have grown or diminished, any exciting trips he embarked on in the last three months, what books of the Bible he and his small group have been focusing on, and any other life-detail he feels have been integral to his growth as a person. It’s a longwinded email, but if you’re one of the people who love him, it’s every bit as interesting and inspiring. There goes my friend, struggling and thriving, sharing his life with me though we are miles away.

I don’t have the discipline for that and I’m not that great at Excel. I barely have the discipline to keep a journal. My last journal entry is dated August 3, but the one before that is dated July 29. Time jumps in that notebook, and I hate it because the moments between are muddy, but aren’t any less important to my own growth as a person. I’d like to be better about documenting myself, as I think everyone should. For me, memories are fluid – they shift and sway and are too easily influenced by the next day and the next day and the next. I remember things differently and my mind fills in blanks for me when it’s been too long, so I’m never 100 percent sure something happened the way I remember it happening.

But I figure I’ll start some short-form documenting here. So here’s a brief update: In my MFA program, we’ve just started our Summer 2020 Residency, now aptly renamed to Summer 2020 Virtual Residency, as I am hunched over a stool at my kitchen table rather than frolicking through a beautiful 100-year-old army base on Whidbey Island with 50 of my peers. It can be lonely and distracting, but I’m here.

This time last year, I started my MFA. I’m officially a year through the program, half-way to a master’s degree, and still my memories are muddy. I do remember some of my aha-moments in the last year of this process. One sticks out far above the rest, when my mentor figured me out after reading only one of my essays:

She said something along the lines of, “You remind me of Emily Dickinson in your writing. Did you know she used to hide in her room when she had guests over? She would keep her door open, but the guest had to stay out in the hallway or in another room, and she would briefly pass the doorway so they could see her for just a moment. The rest of their conversation would happen through the walls. That’s how you are in your writing – we get glimpses of you, but then you’re gone. I want to see more of you, Kayley, in your writing. Stop hiding behind your own words.”

She’s right, of course. She even pointed out my use of quotes, how I rely too heavily on someone else’s ability to say something I believe, rather than saying it myself. It’s an insecurity in my own writing, one I didn’t expect to be found out so easily and quickly. But also one that I’ve had the opportunity to tackle with an attentive mentor and encouraging fellow students, people who help pick out the moments where I pass the doorway and call me out into the room with them. Making yourself present in your own memories doesn’t sound hard until you realize, “Oh, I haven’t exactly processed these memories. Pieces of myself are still collecting dust on the shelf. I’m still in the other room.” It’s an intimate process, this whole writing about yourself thing. Who would have imagined Creative Non-Fiction could be so invasive? ;)

Of course, I’ve learned so much more, but there’s my crux. That’s the thing I keep coming back to in my education, even a year in. And though I’m no longer on the island with brilliant minds and gorgeous views to help me quell the crux, I’m home with my best roommates who consistently provide much needed comic relief from the hours of zoom calls, and I somehow also had time to learn how to make risotto the other day. (Hello Fresh did all the fancy work, I just chopped and stirred.)

There’s my brief and vague update. Still working on quelling the crux, even in my “less polished” writing, like this blog. Though I can’t promise a quarterly report, more consistent updates may be in order if I’m ever going to join everyone in the same room. Until then!