When Clarion West calls your home it is an acceptance.

So I am finally thinking like a rational human being... Okay. Maybe not.

Following is a basic chronicling of how this all worked out. I always wonder about women writers, especially those with kids. How do they do it? When do they write? How do they balance motherhood and writing? How have the young mothers who have gone to Clarion done it? And so, for the past me, I write this.

Last September my husband came to me and said he thought I should apply to that little workshop that called last night. On the one hand I absolutely wanted to go. Of course I wanted to go. It's Clarion West, for goodness sakes. And the line up this year. I mean, to begin with Connie Willis is coming. Seriously, Connie Willis. *refrains from squeeing, for now* And Paul Park (oh yes), and Cory Doctorow (oh, my yes), and Sheree R. Thomas (ohhh!), and Mary Rosemblum (good great!), and Chuck Palahniuk (no way!)...

So the husband and I had a long talk. Actually, we had a lot of talks from September until January.

There is, of course, the money issue. This sort of thing isn't free, and we didn't want to ask for a scholarship. We can pull this together financially, and we certainly know what it's like to *not* be able to do such a thing. We didn't want to take that opportunity away from others who really need the financial help. But, of course, I have these two little boys. Could I really leave my two children for six weeks? That was the big struggle.

Back in 2001 I made a huge choice. I left my work as an anthropologist to have my sons and to rear them myself. This was a decision I never thought I would make, ever. I always wanted to have kids, but I was going to have a career, too, but then the time came and I knew that rearing healthy, good people was more important to me than being an anthrogeek. It is a choice I have never regretted.

I pondered over this decision for months, and spoke to Rice about it several times. Each time he assured me that we'd figure out it out. It's only six short weeks in their long lives. I spoke with my brother, his wife, and Akanthos about it. They all told me to go for it. Then I sat down with Avadore and asked him how he would feel if I were to go away to school this summer. He said he was down with that as long as his dad didn't leave. I just spoke with him again this morning, and he grinned at me and shook his head emphatically, "I want you to go," he said. And not that six-year-olds are the ones who should make such decisions, but if he freaked out? If he didn't want me to go? Well, I'd have a lot of reservations. It's likely I wouldn't go.

And so I applied. Truthfully, I believed there was a great chance I wouldn't get in. I knew that the line up would probably draw more applicants than usual, which it did, and I know I'm not a great writer. I know my stories have so many flaws. But I love doing this, I want to improve, I would really like to be good someday. I figured it was worth a shot. Besides, actually applying was a big deal to me. Just the very act itself of having enough faith to send a submission was a huge accomplishment. It was sort of like getting in line and saying, "I'm serious about this. This matters to me. I love doing this."

I was in the process of setting up dinner for my family last night when the call came. The caller ID said it was Seattle, Washington. (Heh. Seattle called.) I was a bit worried--my uncle lives in Seattle and every time someone from my family calls I'm always a bit worried that something is wrong with Grandma. There was no answer, and finally Rice hung up. And then Seattle called again. I answered this time. There was no one, and then finally a woman said, "Marguerite?" No one but a couple of aunts and people in some sort of official capacity call me Marguerite. And then she said she was calling from Clarion West in Seattle. As I said, Clarion West doesn't call unless they'd like you to come.

So mostly I sounded like an idiot for about five minutes while talking to this woman. The highlight was when I said something to the effect of, "Wow, I'm so surprised--I didn't even think I had a shot." She said, "You didn't?" in a sort of, "Are you nuts?" sort of voice. (Totally polite, of course. Probably one of those, "If you didn't think you were getting in why did you apply?" Why, indeed?)

After that everything is even more hazy. There were hugs, and e-mails, and phone calls, and blog posts, and shaking hands, and a pounding heart, and a really muddled brain. I opened my e-mail several times and closed it, forgetting why I'd opened it in the first place. I squeed. And no one around me seemed surprised. When I called the Spots their reply was, "Well, yeah." I finally ate dinner hours later. That may not have been the best idea...

I have no conclusions to draw here except that believing in oneself is good, and surrounding oneself with people who love you and believe in you is good, too.