#writing – Journey Home

On Thursday, the University of Iowa announced a funding cut for the International Writing Program founded by Paul and Hualing Nieh Engle in 1967.

The U.S. Department of State notified the University of Iowa International Writing Program on Feb. 26 that its grants through the department’s Bureau of Educational and Cultural Affairs were being terminated, stating that the awards “no longer effectuate agency priorities,” nor align “with agency priorities and national interest.” (U.S. Department of State halts International Writing Program funding, Iowa NOW, March 7, 2025).

Termination of funding caused immediate elimination or curtailment of multiple planned activities. While I viewed the program as a vanity project by its founders, the IWP added to the cachet of Iowa City as a writing community. In the early days of the program, the IWP housed its writers at the Mayflower dormitory as a method of creating community. It was that. Indeed, more than 1,600 established writers from more than 160 countries have participated since the program was founded, according to Iowa NOW. The annual funding loss will be almost $1 million. That amount doesn’t seem like a lot, and could likely be made up through a new fundraising effort by Director Christopher Merrill. I hope the program endures.

I remember attending a lecture by Merrill when he described traveling to exotic locales to find writers for the IWP. I suppose his recruitment methods were considered favorably by the State Department at the time and that is why the grant was renewed year after year. In a society where many close friends are being impacted by federal budget cuts today, losing funding at the IWP is just one more thing.

When I finished graduate school in 1981, I decided to stay in Iowa City and live a writer’s life. I had no interest in formal writing programs and carried a bit of residual skepticism about the Writers’ Workshop and the IWP from my days living with some Actualist writers and artists I met in 1973 and ‘74. Instead of following a formal program, I sought to enable my native, if somewhat naive impulses and culture. I hoped to discover what that meant, yet not in the context of formal writing programs. Except for the impact on local culture, it made no difference to me whether the IWP existed in 1981, and that feeling continues through today.

It seems clear that many activities in our culture, from education to farming, to health care, to every aspect of involvement by the federal government are subject to game-changing loss of funding. The IWP can recover from this setback. What about the rest of us?

To keep our sanity, some daily organization is needed. I have a routine, curated over a period of decades, and in retirement, I follow it closely. I had a thought on Saturday, I should post about it. So here it is.

My morning routine is typed and held by a clipboard near my writing desk. I typed it to make sure I don’t forget anything. Depending on the whims of each moment, I could easily get waylaid.

Whenever I go to bed, I sleep four or five hours and then get up to use the bathroom. I return to bed and attempt to sleep until 2:30 or 3 a.m. Occasionally I will sleep straight through. Infrequently, I’ll sleep until 4 a.m. or later. I feel like I get enough sleep.

Upon waking for the day, I sit up on the edge of the bed and take my blood pressure. I record the numbers on a mobile application and then shed my clothing to step on the scale and record my weight. As long as I have the mobile device in hand, I click on The Weather Channel application and check the hourly forecast for the day.

Next comes clean underwear and socks, and dressing in my at-home uniform of well-worn jeans, a t-shirt, and in winter, a sweatshirt. I make the bed, pick up my mobile device, turn off the light, and walk to the kitchen.

I turn on all the kitchen lights and make coffee with my Kenmore drip coffee maker. I take my morning pills, which are Vitamins D and B-12, plus a low dose aspirin. While coffee is brewing, I head downstairs to turn on the lamp in my writing space and power up the desktop computer. In winter, I tend to seedlings started on a heating pad under a grow light. I perform chores like taking the trash and recycling bins to the curb, checking the salt level in the water softener, and cleaning up projects on my writing table to prepare for the day’s work.

Climbing the stairs, I return to the kitchen and pour the first cup of coffee. I take it to the living room where I sit in my chair, check text and email, and view notifications in my Twitter account. I search for breaking news. Once finished, I read at least 25 pages of the current book on my reading list and record the results in the Goodreads application. I head back downstairs.

At my writing table I log in to the applications I will use that day. I do banking, pay bills, record information, transfer photos from the cloud into file folders, and read newspapers. If there are small tasks related to my writing, I take care of them at the time. For example, this morning, I remembered something that should be included in my autobiography, opened the document, and insert it.

When all of this is done, it is usually 5:30 a.m. and time for breakfast. For me, breakfast is the biggest meal of the day and I take time to make tasty food that will carry me until lunch time. Once breakfast is finished, I clean the kitchen, do dishes, brush and floss, and I’m ready for my day.

There is daily variation, yet I mostly stick to the routine. The first shift of writing after breakfast is the best part of my day. What happens after that is based on a to-do list. Yet on many days, it is free form. Regardless what I do, I feel better for having a morning routine.