Write. Right?

I signed up for another 6-session fiction class, where students write and submit, then critique each other’s work. I’m excited, but I’m also nervous, as I am anytime I share my stories with someone else.

(That’s crazy talk, you say; don’t you want to get published? Won’t that mean others are reading your words all the time? Yes, but that’s not the same. Readers in a library or gym or living room half a state away—or half a country or half a world—won’t sit across the table from me while they poke holes in my plots. Yes, I’m sure I’ll be critiqued by anyone who ever reads my stories; but a small, intimate classroom setting hits closer to home. It’s a small difference, but compelling nonetheless. I wonder if I’m in good company?)

I do know, though, that the critique process builds better writing. This will make my second 6-session fiction class. Last time the workshop was facilitated by Lamar Giles. This time, our fearless leader is Lydia Netzer. Both Lamar and Lydia are published authors, so as a student I know I can learn from their experience.

To tell the truth, I’ve been in a writing slump. Oh I have lots of ideas. They just never seem to go anywhere. I keep noting them in my little book of ideas. Meanwhile, I’ve gone back to my novel series, which has been languishing for months while I worked on short stories.

This weekend, I took the time to fill in most of the gaps in my plan for book 3 (book 2 was already plotted and outlined). It looks so wonderful to see all those little colored stickies up on my board, each one a brief note of my intent for that scene. Together they form a sort of road map that will lead my plot through all the essential points up to the crisis and denouement. They give me a target toward which I can aim the arrows of my words.

Even so, some days are a struggle. I’m tired. I’m brain-fried from my day job. I can’t think of a single elegant thing to say. The words I put in my characters’ mouths are stilted, spoken in the wrong voice. On those days, I might write 500 words in three hours, all of which must be rewritten the next day. I must admit, I’ve begun to shy away from the computer on those days. Maybe that’s a mistake. Maybe that’s the source of this slump. ‘Coz writing is hard, y’all. It’s tempting, when I’m tired, to make excuses as to why I shouldn’t even try.

Bobby enticed me outdoors for a few hours earlier today, which I needed, but it was harder to come back to the blank page than I wanted it to be. I did it, though. I wrote almost a thousand words in book 2 (even if I do have to rewrite them later – who cares?), then I switched over to this blog post so I could try (TRY) to describe how I feel when it’s a struggle. If you write, you already know. If you don’t, these words probably won’t suffice. Still, it’s worth the effort. It’s good practice. So here I am, at my computer, even though I’m blah.

Right. Onward. Butt in Chair, Hands on Keyboard, Typing Away Madly – otherwise known as BIC HOC TAM. (Borrowed from Brad Parks, and a darned common slogan for writers online, apparently.)

Doesn’t matter if it’s perfect. Just write, Drema.

Just write.