I must apologize to all my readers in advance - those of you I know personally, those of you I have never met and those you who aren't really reading this blog anymore now that there are no longer any exciting stories about life in an exotic place (sorry about that) - the next few weeks of my blogging life may be a bit odd. So I mentioned that I signed up for a writing class while we are here in the States. I went back and forth about the whole thing really. It's the first five week course in a series that is ultimately supposed to help you end up with that 300 page novel you have secretly always wanted to write but know you never really will. Yeah, it's one of those classes (the first one, introductory level, no serious commitments, so dear sisters who still resent me for my unfinished manuscript of "The Naladite Ring" which I abandoned at age eleven can just calm down. I'm afraid that project remains on hold.) The whole thing intimidates me out of my gourd. I mean, what is scarier than sitting in a room full of talented adults who all assume you must think you are talented or else why else would you have signed up for this and bearing your blood, sweat and tears on paper for the world to see. It feels like one of those dreams where you look down and realize you are sitting in one of your college classes with nothing on but a wash cloth. And then you just try to act normal and hope no one notices. Yeah...like that. (Other people do have those dreams right?)
But at the end of the day, I'm going to be more miserable if I don't try this. The one self-indulgent thing that seems to have survived the violent pruning of motherhood is writing (and yes, that is over sleeping and pooping some days) so I figured, it must be something important to me. We might as well see where this goes.
I had my first class on Tuesday night and...it was awesome. Yes, I am still scared to death but my head is already swimming with new ideas and previously unthought thoughts. Our professor is a published novelist (Suzanne Frank anyone?) who is just beautiful and snotty enough to be impressive but not enough to be distasteful. On Tuesday she wore boots and a flouncy skirt complete with gold bangles and a chain necklace weighed down by a dozen four inch turquoise crystals. It looked a bit dangerous but made sense of the time-traveling romance history novels set in ancient Egypt that I hear she writes. Not exactly my cup of tea (at least not that I would admit) but what she had to say inspired me. And scared me some more. It made me feel better that most of my classmates seemed just as nervous as me. Most seemed to be middle aged women looking to be the next Stephanie Meyers. But not all. I sat next to a banker who was in there just to become more "well-rounded." Last year she took a drawing class for the same reason. That, my friends, is guts.
Anyway, back to my original apology. One of our assignments (of many) is to spend fifteen minutes a day writing. The likelihood of me doing that on top of all my other assignments and being a wife and mama AND blogging is about as likely as me making cordon bleu for supper after working out and organizing my closet. Which means it's not going to happen. So I am killing two birds with one stone here and my fifteen minutes ends up on my blog for you to deal with. Sorry about that. But thanks for your patience.
Gotta run. Time's up.
P.S. - She also said to make sure your blogs are never just stream of consciousness because who really wants to read that. Oops. Sorry again.
But at the end of the day, I'm going to be more miserable if I don't try this. The one self-indulgent thing that seems to have survived the violent pruning of motherhood is writing (and yes, that is over sleeping and pooping some days) so I figured, it must be something important to me. We might as well see where this goes.
I had my first class on Tuesday night and...it was awesome. Yes, I am still scared to death but my head is already swimming with new ideas and previously unthought thoughts. Our professor is a published novelist (Suzanne Frank anyone?) who is just beautiful and snotty enough to be impressive but not enough to be distasteful. On Tuesday she wore boots and a flouncy skirt complete with gold bangles and a chain necklace weighed down by a dozen four inch turquoise crystals. It looked a bit dangerous but made sense of the time-traveling romance history novels set in ancient Egypt that I hear she writes. Not exactly my cup of tea (at least not that I would admit) but what she had to say inspired me. And scared me some more. It made me feel better that most of my classmates seemed just as nervous as me. Most seemed to be middle aged women looking to be the next Stephanie Meyers. But not all. I sat next to a banker who was in there just to become more "well-rounded." Last year she took a drawing class for the same reason. That, my friends, is guts.
Anyway, back to my original apology. One of our assignments (of many) is to spend fifteen minutes a day writing. The likelihood of me doing that on top of all my other assignments and being a wife and mama AND blogging is about as likely as me making cordon bleu for supper after working out and organizing my closet. Which means it's not going to happen. So I am killing two birds with one stone here and my fifteen minutes ends up on my blog for you to deal with. Sorry about that. But thanks for your patience.
Gotta run. Time's up.
P.S. - She also said to make sure your blogs are never just stream of consciousness because who really wants to read that. Oops. Sorry again.
Good for you! I bet you'll be the most talented person in the room. I stumbled across your blog randomly a few months ago, and was so impressed with your writing that I immediately bookmarked it. Since the title was in a foreign language and I was afraid I'd forget what it was, I changed the name of the bookmark to "Great Writer." That's how your site remains in my bookmarks.
ReplyDeleteYou really have a gift. Glad to hear you're using it!
- Jen (a fellow mom and writer)