If you follow my other social media, you may recall that I spent one academic year—in the middle of the pandemic—living in John Grisham’s old mansion up in Oxford, Mississippi. This was a transformative experience for me. I read, pondered, and wrote. I finished a book. I wrote a draft of another. That’s the power of freedom and privacy, I suppose. We become an Alpha version ourselves. Unencumbered by most of the vicissitudes of life.
It’s a time that I believe I’ll always look back on fondly. Maybe, it’s even were I really learned to sit in silence.
While I was living in Grisham House, Cynthia Newberry Martin asked me to write about my time there for her website. Cynthia has been running her author essay series, How We Spend Our Days, since 2009(!), so I was excited to participate.
My assignment was to write about a single day. I relished the task because each day in the House was so specific. Some days flew by. Others seemed to pleasurably stretch on for weeks.
Without further adieu, for paid subscribers, this is “How I Spent That Day at Grisham House”
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