Chop Shop

After having two workshops in my fiction writing class, I now hate my fiction writing class.

I was corresponding with one of my classmates about it and I told him that I feel like an utter failure as a writer after our class rips up my work. He tried to tell me that it was just the nature of workshops, but I held to the belief that it's not. I've had several classes where we've workshopped writing and they've always helped me to see the flaws in my writing and turn my work into a better product.

This class is not like that. It feels to me that sometimes it's insecurity that's driving the students' harshness and lack of interest in helping out a fellow writer, but I'm not sure if that's what it is. Maybe they just aren't very experienced writers. The professor I really don't get though. He seldom gives actual positive feedback. And I don't think he's praised anything of mine yet. He should know that beginning writers need a little encouragement and that doesn't mean lying to them. Just let them know they don't suck at writing.

This is a rant, I know. And it sounds very much like I'm blaming everyone but myself, but I'm not trying to, really. I'm just trying to make sense of such a bad experience in a class that's about producing the type of writing I love. It's been disappointing to me, but I'm very thankful I have my feature writing class this semester. Workshops there have helped me produce writing that's suitable for mass media and has been printed in a newspaper. I've learned a lot and gained so much confidence from that class.

It's been hard for me to get to the revisions I have to make on my fiction story. I appreciated the suggestions I got, but I just don't feel motivated to produce more writing for fiction class. The writing is not satisfying at all. I don't like the feeling of putting so much effort into telling a story and then getting nothing from the reader but criticism and disappointment. I know what being a writer means; it means often hearing that someone doesn't like what you wrote. There is usually some safety among other writers, though, and I don't feel that at all with the fiction class.

Whew!

My last workshop of the semester is over. The outcome is more of what I've heard before: "What's at stake here?" That will be my writing challenge from now on - to figure out how to make the conflict in my writing stronger and better. Rebecca also wants me to make the stories less conveniently resolved. That issue has a lot to do with the lack of conflict, though. She was still encouraging. She told me she enjoys my writing and the way I have with words. To keep writing stories and writing stories until I get it right.

A few comments from classmates made my day brighter: one said short fiction is my niche and I need to stick with it and make it work for me; another said that although it was nine pages it felt far from it and it flowed really well; one girl told me she really related to this story and she liked the whole thing.

Writing makes me happier than anything else I do in life. I think I mentioned that once, I don't know... It's what I want to do with my life. I want to tell stories and sit at a computer for hours trying to get the words to flow. I want people to read my writing and feel something big coming from inside those little words. There is so much fear in writing and being read that I have yet to overcome. It's another dimension of the anxiety that holds me back from what I desire most out of life. I imagine that a life working in a library and surrounded by books would hold some satisfaction for me if that's where I end up, but writing is the challenge that I believe will fulfill me much more.

I'm going to anthro soon, then to work out. Later.

Not Much Over Here

Today was another day. Tomorrow I get workshopped and it's workout day! I'm excited about tomorrow. I think I'll be pretty happy next time you hear from me.

Fulfilled

I always feel so good when I've finished writing something. This time I wrote a short story about the junior high bitches who bullied me. I think I mentioned the idea, I don't remember, but anyway it's done. Now I need to think of a title and post it online for my class to read.

I'll be workshopped tomorrow. . .

Okay, I just left to finish and now I'm back. Title: The Reunion. All done, and it's nine pages so if I can get away with it, I might have it as a backup next semester in the fiction workshop if I can't get another story going. (I like coming up with new material, though. I don't think I could recycle an assignment.)

It's three o'clock and I still haven't showered. It's gross, I know, but I work better when I know I can't go anywhere.

I've got to say this, though, I really feel good right now. I'm starting to notice a correlation between my mood and my writing productivity. For the past couple of months I've thought that if an opportunity to write for a living came up I'd leave library behind in a heartbeat. How practical is that? I don't need to make a lot of money, but I don't want to be poor.

What's Your Fantasy?

My writing professor, Rebecca, invited me and one other student from class to attend a party for the writer's conference this weekend. She said she couldn't invite everyone from class, but we seem like very serious students so she wanted us to come hang out with the writers. I'm stunned. This is a great opportunity to talk to some writers. I mean, when will I ever get another chance to hang out at a party with a group of writers who publish their work, participate in professional workshops, etc.?

I almost ignored the invitation, but I decided I would regret not going, so I took an extra half dose of meds last night. I'm really nervous, but I don't want to get intimidated, I want to meet people and get inspired, maybe learn some things. I figure if I at least go it doesn't matter if I spend my time at the party sitting by myself. I'd rather I didn't, but at least I would have gone to the party instead of wishing I had.

Nothing Really Happens

Workshop this morning went well. Overall, I just feel relaxed talking about writing in a group, and that's the most important thing to me right now given what writing has come to mean in my life. I'm telling you, I don't get as freaked out in there as I used to. I like finding out what I can do to improve my writing. When I finally got my chance to speak about the story I had written, I asked the class what I could do to emphasize the conflict more.

The biggest complaint I've had about my work is that "nothing is at stake." My professor wants to see a bigger risk in my story and she wants me to make clear why I've chosen to write about that thing, that moment. I have to figure out how to make my stories more powerful for the resubmission later this semester.

Needing some inspiration . . . and some courage. I have to take some major risks with my writing if I want it to impact anybody.

Off to the gym in an hour or so. Later.

It's Okay To Be Vulnerable

Eight days!

I made it through one workshop. It was no sweat. Actually, I was relaxed and I asked the class questions about my story. It was very helpful for my revisions.

Had an argument with Wright about his workshop. Turns out, he's more insecure about it than he lets on. I knew he had issues about being talked about publicly, but he was upset with me for participating in workshop and offering suggestions instead of just saying I loved his story and leaving it at that. He hates being vulnerable, and that's understandable, but you have to deal with these things. It's things like this that make me wonder how he'll make it as a writer once his work is out there and people start saying what they want to about it.

Whatever. I'm just glad it's gym day. This is honestly the highlight of my week. I can't wait until I get comfortable going to the gym by myself. Big step coming up next week!

Somebody Cares!

My sister, Theresa, sent me a care package! So sweet of her. I was happy to find gluten-free crackers and pizza crust, along with cute socks, a container for vegetables and dip, gum, and a magazine called Mental Floss (lol!).

I've never heard of Mental Floss. Apparently it's a brainy type mag filled with interesting little facts. It's definitely not a stuffy, esoteric rag, though. I like.

I have a question: I want to join two different honor societies. I can't choose between the two. Can I join both?

Finally, I get one of the workshops over with today. I saw a girl from my class at the computers in the library last night. She asked me about one of the writers who was missing from tomorrow's line-up and I told her that the writer was auditing the class and probably chose not to post a story this time. But that's not really where I'm going with this . . .

. . . so anyway, I was flattered when she told me how much she liked my story. She said she knew someone like my boss (whom I was profiling), and that she felt the emotion in the piece. It made me feel fantastic. Thank you Ansley! I have to remember that conversation today so I don't worry about workshop for hours and make myself sick.

Writers Write. . . Then They Torment Themselves

A week and a half left!

I was set to have my paper workshopped today, but I found out after I got to class that I'm suppose to be w.s.'ed Wednesday instead. I was disappointed. It makes me nervous, this waiting to find out what people thought of my writing. I think I am going to have Wright go over the articles I've written, simply to get some feedback.

Oh, and that is plural. I wrote an article yesterday on social anxiety and I'm so happy that it's finally done. The first draft is, anyway. I still have a lot of revising to do.

I've been taking an extra 25 mg of Zoloft the past few days because of w.s. I have one Tuesday and one Wednesday of this week and I'm feeling anxious. I suppose I feel like I'll confront negativity about my writing, but realistically I won't be any worse than everybody else. It'll be fine; I need to totally accept that.

Getting the Wheels Turning

I spent a few hours brainstorming story ideas last night with my writer friend, we'll call him Wright, and we came up with a great character sketch of the protagonist of the story we're collaborating on. It was fun to throw things out there. Wright encourages me to let go with whatever, even if it's stupid. And he never treats me like my ideas are shit. I love that. I can see the two of us getting more comfortable disagreeing with each other's contributions, but that's the idea: we want to get more relaxed working together. Last night we came up with some great stuff.

The point is this: I want to be able to explore my creativity, but I'm afraid to look stupid and I've locked my ideas away from myself. I don't allow myself to go very far with my imagination. Wright is pulling me past my boundaries and that's great for my confidence.

He offered to read the article I wrote about anxiety and to read the ones I want to write. I offer to do this for him, but it didn't occur to me until yesterday that he might want to help me with my own writing. I've said in past posts, this guy is very encouraging of my writing. I never realized how much I need that and how wonderful it is to have it. I've said it before and I'll say it again, I feel really fortunate to have found him.

Get a Little Bit Closer Now

My class let me know what they thought of my story in workshop today. It was cool. They had some criticism. My professor wasn't sure what I was going for and she just seemed unprepared for the type of story I was writing. She seemed to want something realistic, but I'm just burnt out of realistic stories and I needed something different. She did say it was well-written, though.

Today was workout day and I was still nervous in the gym. I was better, however. I'm getting better slightly each week both physically and psychologically.

My applied anthropology class was what made me the happiest today. I volunteered more to the discussion than I have in the past. It felt really good to finally say something. Now I have to speak up in forensic anthropology. That's the only class I haven't said anything in.

Just Not Like Me... In a Good Way

Last night, in Creative Nonfiction Writing, I was very vocal. The best part was that I was volunteering my input instead of being asked for my opinion.

We had to workshop five writers in the class and spend about twenty minutes on each one, so we had to give writing advice for five different people. It gets tedious after a while. Anyway, I sat next to the professor and when she asked a question I tried to get my answer out first. I had quite a few responses last night, and usually more than one for each writer.

This is what I'm trying to do in all of my classes. I want to be unafraid to speak up in any room. For now, I just feel more comfortable in Rebecca's classes, but the similar experience in Anthro the other day is encouraging.

I noticed that a guy I hang out with affected my mood and made me feel like answering less. He says things very carelessly that bother me and then tells me later that I didn't get him. I considered not going to dinner with him after class (even though it's tradition), but he promised he'd be nice and he was. I don't want anything in my life that pushes me back and I know that if I spend much time with this guy he'll affect me.