Do-It-Yourself Writing Residency: St. George, Utah

April 8, 2009

As many of you probably know, I’m in St. George (the very southern-most part of), Utah, working on my book. It’s been amazing here– my own little private writing residency. I highly recommend doing this: go to someplace inexpensive and check into a hotel for a week. Mine is 39 bucks a night–the Econolodge. My flight to Las Vegas (two hours south of St. George) was $100 round trip. My rental car $150.

Getting quality time to work on my book: Priceless.

Part of my day is spent interviewing people for my book (which takes place on a film location shoot in St. George in 1954), which has been incredibly enlightening. I’ve met the nicest, most gracious people, including a documentary filmmaker who recently finished a doc, “Return to Little Hollywood,” about Westerns that were filmed in Utah over the last 100 years; an independent bookstore owner and her dogs– I didn’t have my wallet with me when I visited her store so she gave me the book I wanted and told me to come back anytime to pay her; the professor of communications at the local college who gave me names of locals to contact.

Then there’s the breakfast spot–the Bear Paw Cafe– where I get the most delicious Pecan Waffles and strong strong coffee. The store on ST. George Blvd, Urban Renewal, that has the lowest prices i’ve EVER seen for such quality antique furniture (I had to stop myself from buying this $35 typewriter table from the 1950s!!–which would go so great with a vintage typewriter on it!!).

Another part of the day is spent out in places like Snow Canyon (where part of the book takes place), just taking in the sunshine, listening to the sounds, feeling the wind as it blows through me, writing descriptions of the landscape, including the gorgeous red rocks and blue skies streaked with wisps of clouds. The Shivwit Indian Reservation, with it’s long, quiet prairies and vacant, crumbling homes.

I can’t tell you how important it is for me to be out here, how satisfying and exciting and enriching it is to be in the area that I’m writing about, absorbing the sights and sounds and smells and feelings. The red sand beneath my feet, the weathered cliffs, the chirp of crickets, buzz of grasshoppers, the flutter of leaves on trees.

And to be here at times of day that are significant and integral to the book i’m writing: such as at 5:30 p.m. when a gauzy light begins to cover the red rocks, and the mountains in the distance become hazy, almost façade-like– a painted backdrop in a film studio. The descending sun throws shadows on the red rocks, deepening the cracks and crevices, slices, fusions and nooks.

Strips of vapor-thin

clouds stretch out

like tendrils across the sky.