Kamp Kindred Spirit: A Place for Bookheads
My favorite part of my job--even beyond the editing of manuscripts--is getting to know authors. Authors we publish at Bright Sky, authors we don't publish, and even authors who are never published. Authors are a magical tribe, with heightened sensitivities, longer than normal antennae, deeper than normal perception, and a whole host of other enhanced attributes. My daughter said it well: we were discussing publishing, and what the people I worked with were like, and she said, "It's like authors have x-ray eyes into your soul." It's like that.
I could write for six days on the intriguing nature of authors as a genre, rest on the seventh, and then begin pecking away through seventy times seven weeks about the intriguing nature of authors as individuals. But that is not what has me pondering right now. What I am rolling around in the right side of my brain, and them pulling over to the left to try to articulate, is the concept of authors as vastly diverse kindred spirits. Default to metaphor.
Kindred spirits. What a fabulous expression. I think I'd like to invent a summer camp for grown ups by a beautiful lake in North Carolina or on the high desert plain in New Mexico and name it Kamp Kindred Spirits. Attendance would be by invitation only--you could be invited by other campers or counselors, or you could invite yourself. If you felt you were a kindred spirit.
What would the qualifications be? A loving heart, an open mind, an excitement about the possibilities that life offers, a willingness to work, an inquisitive nature, and a belief that a deep, good spirit pervades our world. After that, the more diverse the camp, the more interesting. With a little forethought--about menus (make sure there are some vegetarian entrees, some gluten-free, and plenty of jalepenos) and sleeping arrangements (make sure that there are beds, hammocks, mats and sleeping bags--in both coed and single-sex cabins and under the starry skies) and about having someone on hand to keep the bathrooms sparkling so no one need bicker about whose turn it is to handle that-- everyone would be primed to enjoy the wonderland of each others' minds with no prosaic details to hinder connection.
Because Kamp Kindred Spirit--The Place for Happy Authors and Other Seekers, Storytellers and Shamen--would be all about connection. Sharing stories around the camp fire, making memories in Nature and commemorating them with fluent words, hearing the nuances of the world from campers with deep expertise in far-flung arenas, reading and sharing beloved works of others who ought to be campers, but have moved on to be heavenly bodies or sea foam or dust in the wind. Using words to explain ourselves to the other campers and to bridge the gaps.
KKS would be an amazing place. And the food would be amazing, too. In fact, the food and the wine would be so good that all the campers would be in constant danger of not fitting into their play clothes--be they sariis or lederhosen or Nike shorts or pajamas-- were it not for all the activities: yoga and tennis and golf and walking and rock climbing and hiking and spelunking and shuttlecock and bocce and a myriad of other pursuits, all there for the campers' well-being and pleasure.
Although I acknowledge this camp doesn't exist anywhere but my overly optimistic and romantic mind, many times I still feel like I have just returned from there. After a lunch spent exploring the beauty of different with with Karen Walrond, after a relaxation session in our warehouse with Beth Irvine, after a journalling workshop with Angela Caughlin, after a book signing party with Mehrnaz Gill, after seeing Denise Hazen share the love in her message on televison, after hearing about a bird rescue from Bebe McCasland, or laughing at a political story of Peter Roussel's, or hearing about a great organic buffalo herd or a great Texas restaurant from John DeMers, or seeing one of Mike Marvin's inspired pictures of Big Bend or learning arcane and wonderful bits of Texas' history from Jim Bevill, or...the list goes on. Seven days a week. From David Crockett to Kingdom Come, from Leah Richardson's gorgeous, spiritual southern interiors to Joy Fisher Hein's magical lakeside studio and the night-blooming gardens of Cherie Colburn: I go to Kamp Kindred Spirit every time I sit at my desk and open my email, every time I take a phone call from an author, and most importantly, every time I read the wisdom of these marvelous men and women in their manuscripts or see my world with new eyes through their art.
At Bright Sky, there are many kindred spirits, brought together through the irrational love of books, and the uncanny ability to work doggedly to get the things written and illustrated. While I can tell you a little about a few of them in these few paragraphs, I cannot do justice to the stories and images that come so eloquently from their hearts onto the pages. But I can recommend them to you: as authors, as artists, most importantly as fellow campers, an inspired group in which you might just find your own kindred spirit.
Grab a Bright Sky book, run--don't walk--to the coziest chair in your house. Pour a glass of wine or brew some hot green tea, and gently crack the book's spine. Imagine the author emerging like a genie from the pages and let yourself be transported. When you do, you will know where my work takes me, and who my guides are on the journey.
It just looks like a desk job.
Believing that sincerity and courage, honesty, kindness and truth, culminate in the spirit of Greystone, we pledge ourselves to strive, ever towards these high and noble ideals.
~Honor Council Pledge
