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Rollo May proposes the theory that, "Creativity occurs in an act of encounter and is to be understood with this encounter as its center." The encounter is between the artist and the objective reality of what she is observing. The intensity of the encounter between artist and her world calls forth the creative act of bringing into being that which does not exist- the painting, the poem, etc.

The artist, by herself, does not conjure up the art, but rather is infused with the experience of relating to her outside world. It is in trying to bring meaning to this world and to the unconscious symbols and myths that she holds about her place in that world that compel her to create being from non-being. I would also argue there is also a connection that needs to be explored by the artist; between the world of the present and the living and the spirit world, the world of ancestry, the well of souls in which the heart of the collective unconscious resides. “Creative courage... is the discovering of new forms, new symbols, new patterns on which a new society can be built.”

It's May’s contention that creativity is a courageous act because an authentic act of creation takes an intensity of commitment and a deep quality of passion. This is because the artist is moving into uncharted territory in order to sit with the deeper recesses of the psyche, the realm of chaos and anxiety. “This is what the existentialists call the anxiety of nothingness."

I've frequently felt that anxiety, that 'dis-ease.' I spent many years trying to out that blot that feeling, along with a host of others via alcohol and other drugs. It's is no surprise to me that I could only fully actualize my creative self as a feature of sobriety. I think about the real lives of alcohol-ridden, doomed drug-addict, art world wunderkind, and wonder what wellsprings were sealed up in order to not feel a psychic pain to much to bear. Artists delve into the substance their own existence, but also the deeper collective unconscious of the society that they inhabit. Living, resonant art informs this collective unconscious and also shapes it in a new way and can be a touchstone for how a society views itself. Rigid societies afraid of hidden truths repress art; requiring artists to understand that courage is required, and not back away in the face of opposition.

I believe that art making is an act of survival and resistance. During the periods of my life when the creativity has waned and it's felt like the demands of the outside world have swallowed me up, I have definitely felt depressed.The act of creativity fights that depression and more importantly, transforms it into something else, something viable. In what I hope is my best work, that idea of Every/Mujer resisting outside control, outside definition is communicated as well.

For work of the deepest kind to to emerge, I have to look as clear-eyed as I can at losses on the personal level, as well as those with larger social causes. As uncomfortable as that may be, it's also becomes a motivator, a source of knowledge, a driving engine. Joy is as well, by it is joy that results from emergence, a flinty and hard-won joy. Looking at the scope of the themes that pull at me again and again, I can see the arc of trauma, its aftermath and reemergence. As I continue to think about this, imagery from forensic science and pathology come to mind. The initial part of the process is the point of entry, where the bullet entered. Mid process is all about ballistics and trajectory, and the last, is exit wound and the healing.

I have lost my shirt. I must have left it in the Jackson hotel. I'm pretty sure it's not here, in William Faulkner's bedroom.

I spent Thursday morning in the deep bathtub at The Alluvian, the hotel up the block from TurnRow. I padded around in my pajamas, dug another shirt out of the suitcase and, at noon, I waved goodbye to everyone at TurnRow after I paid for my books, took a last photograph of everyone, and... left my wallet on the counter.

What is it with me and wallets? Last tour-time, I left my wallet in the car as Jim dropped me at the airport and I missed my flight out of Atlanta. This time I won't realize that I don't have my wallet until we get to Oxford, two hours northeast of Greenwood. "But I'm getting ahead of myself," as Comfort Snowberger says, "let me back up. I'll start with Oxford and Rowan Oak, since that trip involved me; I witnessed it."

It was a drizzly day that turned into hard rain, but the weather held off long enough for me to soak up the powerful atmosphere at Rowan Oak.

Faulkner lived at Rowan Oak for over 30 years. He created a fictional Yoknapatwpha County for much of his fiction to inhabit, and I have, in turn, created the fictional Aurora County out my childhood summers in Mississippi.

Faulkner is one of my influences, in particular his last novel, THE REIVERS. It won the Pulitzer Prize in 1963, and I consider it his most joyful work. The story is told in a frame. Here's how it begins: "Grandfather said:" and then we launch into the story. Shortest framed beginning I ever read. And it's perfect.


We arrived at Square Books in plenty of time for my 4pm signing. I felt like the long-lost daughter, walking through the door, falling into everyone's embrace -- the entire staff embodies the passion of Peach Shuggars in EACH LITTLE BIRD THAT SINGS: "I'm just so glad to SEE you!" It does a heart good.

Jill is in the front next to Leita in the blue, and then lovely Norma. Second row is Ramona (not a pest), Kenneth, moi, and Lyn Roberts, who amazes me. They all amaze me. They are just as passionate about books as they are about greeting every person who walks through the door.
Here I am, wearing Leita's glasses so I can see, and listening to baseball stories and signing books. Thank you to everyone at Square Books, Jr. for making me feel so welcome. Thank you, Victoria Penny from First Regional Library in Hernando, for coming all the way to Oxford with Lindsly and Taylor! Thanks for the hugs, girls.

And Lord, y'all, look at this. Here is the crowd arriving for Thacker Mountain Radio. This radio program broadcasts live in Oxford on Thursdays and then rebroadcasts on Mississippi Public Radio on Saturday nights just after A Prairie Home Companion. Its tone and feel are very much like A Prairie Home Companion -- music and spoken word. A house band (so fun), a Keillor-like host (Jim Dees, who is gracious, funny and smart, and who made me look good), a guest band, and two authors who read from their work for, oh, 13-minutes or so, while keeping an eye on the producer sitting on the floor with her watch, giving signals. Two minutes! One! Wrap it up!
Here is part of the guest band, Jump Back Jack, singing a song that has Sampson in it. Yes, that Sampson. These guys were awesome, awesome, totally awesome. They're on myspace -- I'll try to find the link... well worth listening!

I *love* Thacker Mountain Radio, as does most of Oxford. They crammed into the space made when the Off Square Books staff shoved the rolling bookshelves against the wall and set up wooden folding chairs in this old warehouse of a store. What a mood! What a celebration! What nerves! I was the first reader. I read chapters one and two of THE AURORA COUNTY ALL-STARS. I had plenty of time to let the story spin out, to read it in the style of the grand southern storyteller who is telling the story, read it to a room full of grand southern readers and storytellers alike. As a friend of mine says, "It don't get much better than that."
This picture of me reading (do I look stunned, or what? I didn't realize the crowd would be so large. I didn't realize there would BE a crowd. Somehow I'd gotten my mental wires crossed and had started thinking "studio" and then, here was this gorgeous crowd of fine folks!) This picture is dark. Don't spend time here. Look below at Billy Southern reading from his wonderful new book, DOWN IN NEW ORLEANS: Reflections from a Drowned City.
This was my book purchase at Square Books. I had Billy sign a copy for my daughter Hannah, who has been working in New Orleans during her college breaks. Billy still lives in New Orleans (he evacuated to Oxford and then moved back home) and is a passionate lover of his city. He inscribed Hannah's book: "Thanks for coming to work! Stay! We need you!"

After signing stock for Square Books, Jim Allen and I took off into the rain soaked night (the vestiges of Hurricane Humberto). We stopped at Taylor's Grocery for a catfish dinner. We stopped in Greenwood to retrieve my wallet. The folks at TurnRow had boxed up my wallet and sent it over to The Alluvian, where it was waiting for me behind the desk. We went only an hour (ha!) out of our way to get it. Have you ever done this sort of bone-headed thing? I'll bet you have. I know I can't be the only one to have left her wallet -- twice -- and have been lucky enough to have retrieved it whole.

Thank you, driver Jim Allen, for taking such good care of me on this trip, and especially for being a calming presence yesterday, all day, and almost all night! It was after midnight when we pulled into the parking lot at the hotel in Jackson -- same place I stayed on Tuesday night -- where I sit now, catching you up. My friend Pam is meeting me in a few minutes. We'll have breakfast and go to Eudora Welty's home. Then, a family lunchtime and a trip to the airport, and home for the weekend before we begin again on Monday.

But before I do anything else, I'm going to scoot to the front desk and inquire after my shirt.

Wednesday morning Jim Allen picked me up and we drove to Medgar Evers' home. If you've seen "Ghosts of Mississippi," you'll recognize the house. I wanted to pay homage. As many years as I'd been coming to Jackson to visit my parents, I had never sought out this house, but today it felt important to go there.
For one thing, I'm getting ready to write a trilogy of novels about the 1960s for Harcourt, and I want to soak up as much as I can of the Sixties, remember what I can, learn what I can, and pay my respects to people black and white who worked for change in the Sixties. Medgar Evers was one of those people. After a few solemn photos and a silent namaste, Jim Allen and I take ourselves north, into the Delta. We have a two-hour drive to Greenwood and TurnRow Book Company. Here was our scenic drive.










It's corn harvesting, cotton picking time in the Delta. This country is the setting of my favorite novel of all time, DELTA WEDDING by Eudora Welty.










What a difference, what another world, as we enter downtown Greenwood, and step into TurnRow Book Company:










The Viking Range Corporation is headquartered in Greenwood. Fred Carl, president and founder, is transforming Greenwood -- here is a fascinating article about his work. He is a partner in TurnRow along with Jamie and Kelly Kornegay, who welcome me and whisk me off to Pillow Academy, where I'm scheduled to talk with students.








The students at Pillow are full of questions. I tell them how I turned my brother into a girl in LOVE, RUBY LAVENDER, and I read them Comfort's "Top Ten Tips for First-Rate Funeral Behavior." I read them "How to Hit the Ball" from THE AURORA COUNTY ALL-STARS. Rule number one: "Remove all tiaras." We laugh and laugh together, hugs all around, and I tell them I'll see them later at TurnRow -- and I do.

Jamie and Kelly have put together a day for teachers and students and their community. My visit to Pillow brought kids in with their parents after school. Parents smiled and wagged fingers at me: "Taylor told me I HAD to come here!" What lovely, obliging parents! Teachers were invited to come for their own hour before the signing, and one thing blended into another with the brownies and the sweet tea. Jamie and I hung out long after it was over while I signed a ton of stock -- I was so surprised at how many books Kelly had purchased. "I really believe in these books," she said of all three novels, "and I'll sell them." She took baby Bayard home to 3-year-old sister Sophie. I told Jamie I'd settle up with him the next morning -- he had pulled books for me to look at. I knew he'd have a good selection of books about Mississippi, the civil rights movement, the blues, and more. I'll take a look this morning before we head to Oxford. I wish I had time to visit the juke joints and blues treasures of the Delta! I'll come back.

Here are some Pillow Academy readers Ellie, Julia, Catherine, Taylor, Mary Brian, and Anna (That's Jamie Kornegay in the background, watching folks come up the stairs and find seats), and here is Kelly Kornegay with Sweetheart Sophie (another Sophie), who is Maudie's daughter, and who helps out at TurnRow.










We had a marvelous evening. I signed and chatted for a while, spoke for a bit and read from ALL-STARS, signed some more, and folks floated toward home. We hung out, as southerners will do, and kept on talking, celebrating stories.
I was thrilled to get my own copy of DELTA LAND signed by a Maude Schyler Clay (may we call her Maudie?) -- I fell in love with her work -- and with her -- right away. We Southerners revere our writers, especially those who are courageous enough to capture our landscape and our hearts truthfully, as Maude has in her beautiful book of photographs.

William Faulkner captured us, too. I am on the way to pay another sort of homage as I visit Faulkner's home, Rowan Oak, in Oxford. Then, a signing at one of my favorite bookstores, Square Books. And after that, listen for me (soon!) on Thacker Mountain Radio, as I'll spend a little time with those folks after my Square Books signing. It's going to be a full day. I so appreciate all of you who have written me both here and in my email inbox... it has lifted my overfull heart! It is essential, when going on journey, to take friends. Thank you.

See you in Oxford!