October 2005

Greetings from Inkberry!

We’re posting the start-of-October inkmail a few days early, for two reasons. The new month starts on Saturday (when we won’t be in the office :-), plus we’re doing a few nifty things in the next few days that we wanted to tell you about now.

Tomorrow night we’ll kick off our new Literary Salon Series, which will continue every Thursday through the rest of the year (major holidays like Thanksgiving excepted.) The salon begins at 7:30 and will last until 9:30 or so; it’s free and open to all. Once a month we’ll watch a movie adapted from a literary work on our spiffy new television (this time we’re doing Robert Altman’s Shortcuts, adapted from Raymond Carver’s short stories). We’re talking about having a regular drop-in writers’ group, a regular night of the month devoted to talking about publishing stuff, maybe a regular open-mike night; so much depends on (a red wheelbarrow) what y’all want. Come enjoy the Inkberry space in its beautiful new coat of paint, lounge on our lovely new chairs (donated by Barry: thanks, Barry), take in a literary movie, and meet other artsy and literary folks.

On Monday, October 3rd, we’ll begin our next online workshop: Provoked: Essays in Response to Works of Art, taught by Rebecca Spears. Here’s what Rebecca has to say about the class: “The arts invite, and sometimes provoke, response. We will explore how we may use works of art — paintings, film, music, literature, and other texts — as a starting point for writing responsive essays that in themselves may become works of art. Students will write two essays over the course of the workshop; class discussion will include responses to each others’ work.” The workshop runs for six weeks, and tuition is $75; you can learn about Rebecca here, and you can sign up in our secure store. Since the workshop takes place entirely online, you can particpate at your leisure; all you need is a reliable internet connection!

September’s been a fun month around here. We’ve done a ton of work getting our space spiffed up for the new season (where by “we” I mostly mean Jill.) A group of terrific Williams freshmen helped us give the place a facelift, so now our writers’ resource library is a pleasant dove-grey and our classroom sparkles in a sunny lemon-yellow. We’ve been processing new additions to our writers’ resource library (just in: a complete set of 2006 Writers’ Market books, so if you’ve been wanting to research publication opportunities, we’ve got what you need). And we’ve been framing our signed flyers and posters from the last several years’ worth of readings — they look fantastic against our lovely new walls.

In other happy news, we just got word that the Massachusetts Cultural Council will be funding Inkberry this year! They offer a terrific program of organizational support, and this was the first year we applied for it (you have to be able to show a track record before they’ll consider your application). With the good-news letter they enclosed the grant panel’s comments on our application, which included great lines like “organization is carrying out an important mission very well.” That was a nice ego boost! They also liked our website, our programming, and our budget decisions.

My dentist, Ira Lapidus, serves on the MCC. The last couple of years, when I’ve gone in for my annual check-up, he’s struck up pleasant conversation about Inkberry and the cultural council while I’m in the dentist’s chair. It’s hard to respond with my mouth open wide, but at least this fall I’ll be able to pantomime two big thumbs-up, because the grant came through. Three cheers for the MCC!

Lately I’ve been re-reading a fair amount. Most recently, Richard Berlin’s excellent poetry collection How JFK Killed My Father, published in 2003. Richard’s practice of medicine flows through his poems, and he writes with extraordinary beauty and precision about such subjects as meeting one’s cadaver and examining an elderly woman who turns out to have breast cancer. These poignant and sometimes difficult moments are the stuff that embodied life is made of, and Richard writes about them with candor and grace. The book is available through Amazon; if you happen to live in the Berkshires, it’s probably at your local bookstore, because Richard lives in Richmond. Check it out.

And that’s the news from Inkberry, where a glorious autumn breeze is rattling our venetian blinds. Come and see us sometime!

— Rachel