In America, on the first residency I ever did, I met an American novelist by the name of Joe Caldwell. Jo was into his early 80s, was reading Proust’s Rememberance of Things Past for the third time (extraordinary when you consider it’s 3,500 pages) and wrote his novels by hand and typewriter. His publisher would eventually take the typewritten version he’d submitted and scan the pages. Joe was not worrying about trying to use a computer. He hadn’t gone to email. While just prior to dinner, other artists might have used their own computers or the house ones, Joe would relax and just read the New York Times before the dinner bell rang. He also had some good advice about time when doing a residency. He told me on his first residency he wondered how he would fill in the day. He had never before had the open ended luxury of every moment being available for his writing. He said for the first few days he was thrown by this but gradually a groove and routine came about and it was never ever a worry again. Yesterday felt like the Joe Caldwell groove he’s referring too. It was a very satisfying day: giving feedback over email for the pieces the workshop participants gave me, more of the Bill Gammage book, continuing to write about Shirley Bliss, and some organizational work for other projects. In the evening, we listened to a friend’s instrumental album. Once a groove establishes, the amount of work acheived can be a real surprise to oneself. That’s the magic of a residency, the feeling that this is what I really want to be doing.