Tags
One class down, another to go and I’m already wiped out.
The class beginning tonight will be more intense. Draw me further to the edge. Push me to write fiction.
Once upon a time, I thought I wanted to write fiction. Living in the land of make-believe, I bragged to my husband, “I know I can.” He surprised me with agreement. Took the air write out of my sails; and with nothing left to prove, I didn’t even pick up a pencil and try, though I did buy my first how-to book.
Three years ago I had this story kicking around in my soul, and my son Kyle kept asking, “How’s the story going, Mom?” My response was always flavored with the same gist: “I’ve got no story, Son. That’s your department, isn’t it?”
And now I’m going to write fiction? Just like that? Play God by not being in control of my characters. Talk about getting out of my comfort zone. What seemed so do-able in March seems less so now, minutes away from the starting gate.
The last few days, I’ve reminded myself of that Lenten mantra that I lived with earlier this year — “It’s no better to be safe than sorry”-– which helped get me to Iowa in the first place. And I have to ask myself: Do I really believe these words? In my heart of hearts, wouldn’t I rather play it safe and tell myself I’m not sorry? It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve lied to myself.
If I return to the festival next year, I will be less greedy. I will settle on just one class. For “Betcha-can’t-eat-just-one” doesn’t apply here in Iowa. Because sometimes, Three Dog Night, one is not a lonely number. Sometimes, one suffices quite nice.
an everyday life 
YOu can do it!!!
Viv,
I’m smiling now. Because I woke up believing the same thing. It didn’t hurt to wake up with pieces of story circling my brain, wit potential answers to questions left open in my writing last night.
Thanks for your encouraging word. And with the promise of coffee hanging in the air, first I’m going to write down the gift of my morning thoughts, before coffee clouds them over with bright eyes.
Janell
Janell
I am your champion as well. I believe in you and pray God will provide whatever it is you need to make it through this week and feel good about yourself. You are precious and loved!
Carol
Hey Carol — thanks for dropping a note of encouragement. That’s so like you.
The months are ticking away and soon you’ll be here. I knew it would go fast.
I’ve got to stop writing at night here in Iowa I’m much more hopeful in the mornings — at night I’m mired in homework and remorse for trying to climb higher than I ought.
I wake up to find fresh hope, each and every day. Even in Iowa.
Janell
I haven’t the slightest clue what this means, but when I read this post for about the third time I thought, “But make-believe is only one kind of fiction”.
There’s something to think about for a while!
I had quite an experience this week. Out of the blue, I got my first request to read and comment on a short story manuscript. Fiction. WAY out of my usual zone – vampires, avatars and such.
Good gosh. That was really, really hard. But interesting. And it raised an issue I’d never thought of before: the discipline needed by editors and instructors to shape someone else’s vision, to help train the voice, without substituting their own.
Anyway – it looks like you decided to shoot for the moon! LOL
Linda,
Your words on editing reminded me of these…
“Overall, I feel that Lish didn’t so much apply his own vision of what he thought the story should be, but more identified certain aspects of Carver’s style that could be condensed and magnified so that it was even more “Carver” than the original. I think this represents the ultimate work of an editor.”
…David Miller’s take on a story appearing in The New Yorker about Gordon Lish and Raymond Carver.
I find editing hard. Harder than writing. But what a honor you were invited to do so.
Janell