I have one more week left - to the day - here at the JK House. And as all goodbyes go, there's a some sadness. Made new friends here, and I've come to really love this area. (Yeah, it's been hot, but you somehow get used to it.)
Of course, I've completed a good deal of work here, or at least as completed as writing can be. I forget who it was, but an author once said something like this: a writer is never done with a story, he only abandons it. I know exactly what he meant.
Saturday night is my final reading at the Kerouac House, and I'm looking forward to the chance to share pieces of the book manuscript and some short fiction I written here, all inspired - to some extent - by the area, the house, the local people, the shops.
Next weekend, I head for Sea Island, Georgia for a conference - The Scribbler's Retreat. I've been honored to talk about radio narrative, creative nonfiction, and interviewing as the conference's keynote speaker. Never been to Sea Island, and friends tell me it is storybook beautiful.
I can't say I'm looking forward to the 1200 mile drive back to Chicago, but how fitting, right? It prolongs the Kerouac connection when one has to get behind the wheel and drive and drive.