Six o'clock start to the day, half an hour before my alarm went off. My roommate's driving me to the airport. It's early, but I'm awake. Winthrop wanted a coffee, then started sleeping in the back seat; it'll be cold by the time we arrive. He didn't really want coffee. I've promised him a hot cup of tea when we arrive.

Seven days without @ElectricKeet is an eternity. It's not even a baraka; it's just a very long time. Em wanted to listen to Starcadian to start the trip. HE^RT. #tfnyuu

I don't feel ready. I never do before flights. This one even more than normal. And yet, I know I'm as prepared as I can be, given everything leading up to it. @mawr and Raow were over last night, and I've left plenty of leftovers. This all weighs on what I want to write while I'm there. I did a novel in three days.

Mountain's out this morning, seeing me off. I'll be home soon, with much to show for my time.

https://awoo.space/media/PPH7tjk3gI2CueGMoUU

The music cut out at "entoptic symphony." Hell of a send-off, Emrys. Security was easy, insofar as indignity to personhood can be easy. Can the microwave scanners spot what's left of American decency?

Found a tigrox at the airport. Breakfast at Beecher's. Full flight to Sacramento.
https://awoo.space/media/0jp7SkJLd7dNXYdsP0U

Giant 3-D rabbit. @Momentrabbit, your team, I presume?
https://awoo.space/media/AxrQpzS3DWYAq62sjMg https://awoo.space/media/bRzTJi0cGbgmpL0GqoY

21% battery remaining.

For found by a tigrox this time. Waiting for the third in the carpool to land, but Nighteyes' flight is late. Got Lovetop stuck in my head now. Winthrop was well-behaved on the flight, which was just long enough to get halfway into an Isaac run.

... scratch that; third plane in the ground. We're moving again.

Nighteyes and Ocean are in the front seat, talking about past submissions. I'm so unused to short story stuff; after three novels, I'm more accustomed longer-form work, with all the pitfalls that come with it. I'm out of my element. I have to believe I'm not out of my league.

Now passing "Fugu Lounge: Sushi and Sports Bar."

Welcome to California.

A brief stop at In-n-Out, and we're back on the road. Ninety-six miles to South Lake Tahoe. This is happening. I'm excited, if nervous. Still feeling like I'm a little outclassed. Still going to do this.

Out here, you can see where the sky touches the land. Seven-thousand feet up, it's easy to feel like everything is down from here. This isn't the highest, but it's pretty high. High enough.

https://awoo.space/media/yoa0KFBdouV2568U2VU

We arrived at the retreat hours ago, but we've been busy since we arrived. A brief introduction from Alkani, then several hours of philosophy with John Otter. We ordered pizza, then recorded an episode of Fangs and Fonts.

Tomorrow, the first lecture, the first assignment, and a six-thousand word story to produce, plus up to 12,000 words of reading and critiquing. This is going to be _intense_ if nothing else.

Alkani called it a crucible. I've tempered before. I'm ready.

Tomorrow, the work continues. Tonight, we sleep. (CW: bare shoulders, exposed collar)

https://awoo.space/media/2_RqZARC2nbdwCDirv0

I paid for the king bedroom on the retreat, so I have a solo room at the top of the stairs. Great for filling the space with sound and isolation, with one tiny challenge: an east-facing bay window with a balcony. The balcony is lovely. 06h30 is earlier than I'm used to being woken by the sun.

Crucible. Woken by the sun. I could read all kinds of things into this, but they'd be projecting. Then again, synchronicities. A reminder to look at the rest of my syncretisms at some point.

Lunch with Kyell and Ryan. That went oddly; topics of conversation got intense in ways nobody was expecting. It's day two. It's going to get tighter before it relaxes. That's the way of it.

The first lesson on critiques was eerily refreshing. Mostly, I keep forgetting to code-switch my knowledge, and I keep forgetting what I know. Easy to do that.

The first stories are up for review. Eighteen-thousand words to read tonight, four-thousand to write by tomorrow.

What I'm learning, as much as anything, is that I really do know what I think I know, that my knowledge isn't invalid, just untested. Theories are right, but lacking in practice. This will be practice. Lots of it. I can live with that.

Critiques of phase one stories are done. Outline is confirmed Ouch Fuck Why. There's a few things to add to it, but it's ready to go. Time to write. Names must be changed to protect the innocent, but I'm proud of the emotional arc of this one.

Smash capitalism.

2323 words tonight. This one fucking hurts. It hurts because it cuts deep and slow. It hurts because the outline uses my kids' names to capture the emotional states I'm trying to reproduce. It hurts because I'm revisiting Irokai after eight years. It hurts because it needs to be written.

06h30 again. The custard I prepped last night and the stale croissants we all left became French toast this morning with a side of scrambled eggs. Three cups of coffee so far, and my eyes are vibrating. We've had our first round of tearing each others' stories apart. It felt surprisingly refreshing, being able to embrace the critique.

The official critiques haven't happened yet, but they will. First lecture: confidence and creativity.

18h30. Second submission for the retreat is finished at 5585 words. I baked pork-and-zucchini enchiladas as a reward for my efforts, and now I'm relaxing before heading up to my room to critique three stories. Eighteen-thousand words to read and eighteen-hundred more to write. Then I'm done until the next round of stories show up, which... will feel very weird. I'm ahead of schedule.

This hurt in a very good way.