Wiggly Waggy Beginner

It's become clear to me recently that I am shying away from sharing my writing out of fear-- fear of critique to be sure, but also fear of notice. Some part of me has forgotten that it is safe to put stories out there that are human, that are imperfect, that shine but don't shine with the clarity of a flawless jewel. It's okay to be imperfect, to be learning. It's okay to be a beginner all your life.

I will be a proud beginner this year. I will take risks, I will be bold and brash and not think through every worry before I share. I need the freedom to be imperfect. I will embrace it, I will wallow in it, I will run around in wet grass with it and howl with it at the moon. I will be a loud, wiggly, waggy beginner bursting with wonky joy. I will sing loudly off key with a killer attitude and win over the crowd. I will be free.

I will encourage others to wallow and run and howl and be wiggly-waggy free with me.

Getting into University...

...is harder than it looks. Especially when you're 41 and you've attended a half-dozen community colleges in order to reach this point.

Sigh. Oh well. I'm using my powers of psychotic persistence (hat tip to Jay Lake) to conquer this beast, just like I do for writing and publishing.

I don't anticipate majoring or minoring in creative writing. I do intend to focus on a writing-intensive major, but non-fiction, business-oriented, dayjob-type stuff. I need one of those: a dayjob.

Eta: I got in!!!

Coming Unstuck, Academically Speaking

So, I recruited a housemate to join me on a trek to my prospective Uni, and schlepped a pile of transcripts and associated paperwork to the counseling office on Friday.

We talked over my academic work, and I came away feeling like I have a good shot at actually becoming a student there this fall.

...

Which let loose a logjam inside me that I didn't quite know was there, holding in a lot of academic excitement and glee about being a college student again. We wandered around the library and student union and bookstore, and the whole time I felt this great glee-bubble swelling in my chest.

By the time I woke up and logged in the next morning, I was furiously investigating graduate programs so as to better know how to wind up there in a year or two. I can't stop thinking about it, now - about good grades and dean's lists and awesome opportunities that can be mine.

I have a short list of grad schools to apply to. I have never done that before, I've always just taken a guess at who I thought would accept me and applied to that one place. If everything goes according to plan in the next two weeks, a whole world of awesome is about to unlock for me. I'm so excited!

It's Not Just a Blank Page Thing

The fear of writing is a multi-layered, constant companion.

I guess that needs some explaining.

So I started a new story yesterday. I'm really excited about it, as it's one of those stories that pings something inside me - it's not just a plot I thought of or a character I created; it's a narrative that speaks to things I Believe and experiences I've had that shaped who I am.

I've forgotten where I found the maxim: "Write the story only you can write." I'm digging around Google looking for it, but anyway this is one of those stories, for me....

And I'm terrified. I know from experience that feeling a story doesn't mean I'm ready to write it, and that sometimes my skill level just isn't up to something my imagination asks for. I don't want to break this story.

Still, the mermaid story came to me before I was ready, and I had a ton of false starts before the real version came out. Those unsuccessful tries were frustrating, but they certainly didn't keep me from writing the successful one when the time came.

Picking up the ball. Again.

Blogging is an exercise in starting. It doesn't seem to ever reach the kind of automatic stage, where I don't have to ask myself whether I'm going to blog today or not.

I asked myself that question today, and answered, "Yes."

This blog is going to document a lot of things about my creative life, and it won't be on a clockwork sort of schedule. I do hope I can conquer the part of my brain that likes to hide from things, and make it a more frequent part of my process.

Hi Honey I'm Home!

I wound up going to see my family after the new year - it was lovely and exciting to get to look into their eyes and tell them I love them, to hug my competent, grown up daughter and tell her how proud I am of her graduation, her first professional job.

The experience was also profoundly disorienting. I've been in California for two and a half years now; I'm a busy returning college student with lovely, excellent friends. As I sat in my father's living room with the once-trendy Moroccan gold paint I picked out for the walls, drinking coffee from the same cartoon mug I drank from as a teenager mumble years ago, I was struck by the sensation that my life here was a mirage, a vivid dream I had suddenly waked from.

No thank you, very much.

Brainless Boxing Day

I had really hoped to write today.

I did not sleep. I fought with my blankets, tossed, turned, and twitched.

Finally, at what most people consider lunch hour, I climbed out of bed and gave up. There has been coffee and food, there will be much lovely television, and I will be going to bed early.

Five Days Is An Eon, In The Age Of Wireless Words

2600 words of yuletide fan fiction and...it's a vignette.

It's now a complete vignette, with recognizable characters from the show and funny dialogue and physical comedy and a little unresolved sexual tension. It's fun and readable and I think my recipient will enjoy it.

I stretched, by writing that physical comedy. Since I don't move the way your average actor moves, it scares me to write movements I can't inhabit in my mind. But, I did it anyway because it was right for the characters and the story vignette.

Still, I wish it was a story with a plot, instead of a vignette.

A Day Full of Resistance

I am still resisting my Yuletide story. I re-watched several episodes of my assigned fandom's show this afternoon, and on the whole felt much more comfortable with the main characters' voices than I had before...but I still didn't put any words on the paper.

I think I need to try writing the ending, or a random off-screen scene. Something that can happen with less flail. I think I have to do it tonight, otherwise I'll have to work up my courage all over again.

/sigh./

Why can't I just be reasonable about these things?

Peripheral Story

I sat down to write my Yuletide story today and accidentally cranked out a flash-length original story which is not speculative. It's been a really long time since I wrote something that was "mainstream," but it's good to stretch.

And I still have that Yuletide assignment to write, now.

Remember this

For each of the last two nights, I woke up  before dawn for no reason I can name and lay awake for about an hour. I've spent the last two days studying through a fog of sleep deprivation.

Today my bones feel creaky and loose in their sockets, my eyes feel filmy and coated in grime. My brain buzzes, trying valiantly to process two classes' information for final exams. My hand shakes from caffeine overload and I am oh-so-glad my roommate is driving to and from our classes.

Still, I have a new story idea. The next time I become  afraid that my ideas have dried up, I will remember this.

Finals vs. Writing

Two more days until I can *finally* put this semester to bed.

It's been a wonderful learning experience (especially my writing class) but I am tired.

Plus, my brain wants to be writing instead of studying. Can't do that, for two more days.

/Sigh./

Aaany Minute Now I'm Gonna...

Get moving. I have so many things on my to do list right now, and a lot of them are social.

I honestly love people, and I'm excited about all this stuff. But it's draining, and part of me would like to hide out here in my pyjamas instead.

It's not as if I don't have plenty that needs doing, right here.

Process note

I'm a little afraid of trying to revise this story. It's irrational, of course; I have the current version saved. I  don't know how or why I wound up scared of everything to do with writing, but I can't wait until I'm not scared. I have to just take the fear as a sign that yes, I'm writing.

First leap of the blog

Meeep. I just submitted my first piece to the Online Writing Workshop.

Opening, Sans Fanfare

I hate writing the first post anywhere. I always expect too much of it. This blog is an experiment in leaping so the net can appear, a place to talk about the things I'm trying to learn. I'm open to critique, suggestions, and all other sincere discussion.

I don't engage in internet drama. Dammit Jim, I'm a writer, not a troll-tender.