I love Orion Magazine, and one of my favorite features is The Place Where You Live project, which provides readers with space to record their ideas about “place.”
Anyone can submit an entry, which I love. You don’t need to identify as a “real” writer, and–whoever you are–I highly encourage you to give it a go if you should feel so inclined.
“What connects you to your place? What history does it hold for you? What are your hopes and fears for it?”
When I wrote for it (quite a few years ago now), I liked the challenge of being limited to 350 words or less. I tend towards long-form writing (which is why it’s taking me a little longer to publish that “bigger” post I talked about last week), so I love the challenge of working within more constrained parameters.
Occasionally, some entries are selected for inclusion in future editions of Orion’s print magazine. Needless to say, I was delighted when my little piece was chosen to appear in their September/October 2014 issue, but today when I went searching for it to include in a copywriting job application, I discovered that there’s no longer a link for it online, which makes sense after so many years.
I have a print copy, but our scanner is on the blink. Luckily, I came across a website with a PDF of that issue. I include it here for no other reason than to make sure it doesn’t disappear again!
I hadn’t thought much about this essay in years. Six months after it was published, Ian and I found a few acres of woodland with a gentle creek and a wood stove, I learned how to plant snow peas and lots of other vegetables, and his parents brought their beehives to live with us when they moved from their home on the Oregon coast to the same condo in the city that we used to live in!
I love this memory of a time when a home just like ours was nothing but wishes and shapes in a concrete ceiling. But, after four years in the Willamette Valley, it’s high time I try to capture this (not so) new place where I live. Right this moment, I can’t imagine how I’ll manage it in such few words, but that’s the great puzzle of writing. This place has changed my life in so many unimaginable ways; it’s been my greatest joy and my greatest challenge. I’m not quite the same person who moved here, but I’m still the person who lies on the floor looking for patterns and things that look like other things.