There must be something in the air in Armagh. Maybe it’s the smell of chickens, maybe the mist from the unexpected downpour atop Naven Fort. Either way, I had the glorious experience this afternoon of sitting down in front of a blank page with every intention of freewriting for a few minutes, and then scribbling madly for twenty-five minutes because I could simply not turn off my pen. While the quality of my brainstorming is up in the air, the quantity at least was exciting.

The jumping-off point of this year’s John Hewitt Society conference is “Living With Strangers: The Lost Meaning of Home.” Toying with this theme, I’m developing a novella of discovery of landscape, self-understanding, and family. Understanding who one is by where one comes from is a theme I enjoy discussing in writing, and family dynamics are my passion. Add to this two characters that strolled into my head during our first class, already chattering away, and I can’t wait to leap into work.

I imagine a first-person narrator named Leanne Emmett. She lives in Ireland (naturally; where else would she live?) with her mother and stepfather, as her father left home when she was very young. She never knew him, but she knows that he’s in the shipping business and usually frequents the same pub when he docks back in Belfast. She goes to the bar hoping to find him, and indeed she does.

My fellow writers here will be unsurprised to learn the identity of the father character: Colum Emmett, a weathered, taciturn old sailor with eight fingers. I’ve had the vision of an eight-fingered man with a shadowy past drifting about my head since I arrived, though I’d be hard-pressed to explain exactly where he came from. He has no desire to elaborate about his past or to speak with his daughter. However, Leanne will not be rebuffed so easily, and when Colum claims that he needs to leave town on a shipping trip, she volunteers to join him.

The action then shifts to the sailing vessel. I have yet to decide the time period: pirate-esque double-masted schooner? Modern barge? The Titanic? (Probably not the Titanic.) Leanne and Colum learn how to open up to one another and when to remain closed. Colum’s silent front begins to fade, and we learn the story of where he went, what happened to his two fingers, and what kind of man he really is (I’m avoiding spoilers, so I won’t tell you any of these answers!).

While the specific details of the plot have yet to be worked out and a climax would be lovely to have, I’m certainly not expecting that on the first day. Themes, on the other hand, are continually bouncing around in my head. Secrets and selective truth-telling interest me greatly, especially in contrast with my peers studying journalism here. Their job is to tell the truth and nothing but the truth, but as writers and as humans, we don’t do this all the time, or even most of it. How do we decide what to divulge and what to hide? Is there a time when hiding the truth is really a kindness, or is honesty always the best policy? Do we always want to know who we are and where we come from?

Big questions for my third day in Armagh, I know. But when the pen starts flying, who am I to stop it? We’ll see where it takes me.

Hopefully nowhere ridiculous, though the presence of an eight-fingered man and the potential of the Titanic may leave this in doubt.