I have been offered a one month residency at Yaddo, the artist community in Saratoga Springs, New York. I will be in residence  from mid-June to mid-July, and will be working on my second book, Works Cited: Falling Up & Down in a Bookless World.

I am by turns thrilled and freaked out. Thrilled that I will have the time to finish my book. Thrilled that it's like, you know, Yaddo, the place I have read about, heard about, and wondered about for so many years (What, really, goes on inside that storied  mansion?). Freaked out that I am some dude from the sticks of rural Idaho, and that I will stand out as "that dude from the rural sticks of Idaho." Freaked out that I won't acclimate to the customs and traditions of Yaddo (Do you really have to play tennis? And how well do you have to play? Is it bad that I suck at tennis? Etc.). Freaked out that I will break something fragile and invaluable like a tea-cup that Langston Hughes donated to Yaddo, or that I will track mud across a rug that once belonged to Sylvia Plath. But thrilled, on the other hand, because, you know, it's like Yaddo!