May
It’s not just that buds begin to form upon the twigs of trees long dormant over wintry months. The very name of this month is infused with possibility. This month, we may do this, we might do that.
For myself, I begin my first term of a two-year MFA in Creative Nonfiction. I have three books to finish reading before the end of the month. I have two assignments to complete over the next few weeks.
In my 5th decade, I am a officially a student once more.
I’ve always considered learning a lifetime’s endeavour. My mother used to wisely say, when she learned something new, “two more things and I can go to bed.”
The next two years will be spent shaping a work plan, polishing the first three chapters and completing a 15,000-word proposal for the book I aim to write. A couple of weeks ago, our cohort was sent a document containing the bios and book projects of the cohort from the previous year. I’m sure it was meant to inspire us all (and reading the content was hugely inspiring.) It was also intimidating. The imposter syndrome was real and I wondered how on The Good Green Earth I had made the cut and been accepted into the degree program.
Now here I sit. I’ve submitted my own bio and book project which will be compiled in a similar document for our Class of 2026 and which will no doubt go on to inspire (and possibly intimidate) new students accepted into the Class of 2027 next spring.
Thankfully my excitement is tipping the scales on my own nervousness. All I’ve read about writing a book is this crest/trough cycle if the book were a wave. This high/low. This burst of ego we require to put words to paper and the crushing doubt that inevitably follows. So perhaps I am in good company?
My favourite season has always been (and remains) winter. Maybe this is why I identify with a bear. But May is the month I gave birth to my child after close to a decade of infertility struggle. Why I have a particular fondness for this month. It is the month I was finally born into matrescence. It’s a month I completed my MA in photojournalism and documentary photography. A month that has represented enormous change and courage in my life. A new start. A sap rising to be boiled and sugared over the next while. Something I hope will transform from golden to amber to a rich darkness. I breathe in the increased Vitamin D of sunnier days. The scent of grass, of blossoming trees and flowers.
The month begins with the ancient Celtic festival of fire and fertility: Bealtaine. Life bursting forth around us. The wind may still carry the bite of winter, but all around us unfolds the greening of our gardens, parks and woodlands.
As I read what the cohort ahead of mine has chosen to commit two years to put to paper, I feel pretty green myself. But so much remains possible.
I may finally write words on what I’ve been researching.
I may make new connections and new friends.
I may carve out a workplan.
I may complete a 15-20,000 word book proposal.
I may hone the first three chapters.
I may land an agent and/or publisher.
I may complete my book.
I may one day hold the book I’ve written.
I may promote it and I may sell it.
(You may read it!)
I may begin a second book…
It’s my self-imposed (and academic duty) to transform each ‘may’ to ‘will.’ To will these promises to myself (and my studies) into being. For now, in this moment and this momentous month, I have at least been granted the permission and inspiration to finally begin this project that’s haunted each corner of my cranium for the past few years. So much is possible whether any of the above becomes reality or not.
For now, I hang onto all the possibility. The greening of me. The book whose seed cracks open within me and blossoming, unfurling its petals without someday.
Here I sit wishing each of you a glorious month of possibility. Embrace it and if you want to follow my own journey (over the next two years and beyond), this is me extending my hand.
You may go ahead and subscribe. Happy May!
Courage Nancy! I love your reframing of ‘May’. I too became a mother for the first and second time in May, it’s also the month my own mother died. But mostly I want to wish you bucket loads of luck as you start your new student life.
I absolutely love this piece, Nancy, and the way it speaks to that sense of promise. Of potential. I'll be thinking hard on your prompt at the end, too. Thank you for such a powerful piece and also you are going to SMASH this course!xx