There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.
~Ernest Hemingway
Every few months I get a catalog in the mail from our local high school's extension program. They offer hundreds of classes on everything from yoga to finance. Three years ago I signed up for my first French class, and this past summer I signed up for Italian. I've enjoyed these classes immensely, despite my continued inability to speak a word of French (parlo Italiano abbastanza bene).
This session I decided to take a writing class. I've been considering this for a long time, but kept putting it off out of what is probably a raging case of fear of failure. What if I suck? What if everyone else is publishing a novel? Will I be able to eek out something longer than a Facebook update? I also held myself back because I lacked a goal. What was I going to write? My thought process went something like this: Once I start writing I will feel pressure to write something brilliant, and since it's nearly impossible to get something published, I won't even start. My focus was on the end result, instead of the process.
Eventually I sent in a check.
The class is called "Just Write: A Workshop," and that's pretty much what it's all about. Get a piece of paper and a writing utensil, turn off the inner voice that says, "I don't know what to say/I can't/I suck," and write something. Don't edit, don't ponder, just write. Our teacher has given us a long list of prompts to work with if we need a kickstart.
It rained
He needed a cigarette
The room went dark
In the kitchen
How ridiculous
When I was fifteen
Each week the teacher gives us a handout on the "lesson," which is really more like a topic to think about in regard to writing: appositions and lists, inspiration and learning styles, similes and metaphors, time and memory, concise writing. She includes quotes, examples, and writing exercises.
We write in class, and then read aloud what we've written. We also read what we've written in our writing journals during the week, and twice a term we work on and read a longer piece, something we've edited and worked on more than our standard journaling. There is no test, no final piece, no end goal. We just write for the sake of writing, which is a suprisingly novel idea to me. No goal, just a process.
In addition to the writing there is a sense of community, which is a benefit to the class that I hadn't anticipated. There are ten of us, all women. Only two of us are new to the class; most of the other women have been taking the same class together for years. That could have been intimidating, but everyone has been welcoming and encouraging.
After six weeks of class I have not written as often as I would like, but I have gained a bit of confidence and enthusiasm for the process of writing. Most of what I've churned out are small snapshots of my life, past or present. They may lend themselves well to this oft-neglected blog, so I will work on sharing some of them here.
To start, I offer up this fun exercise in concise writing - entire stories in six words, or microfiction.
Love: Changing my flat tire, I knew.
Fear: Heart in my throat, I cowered.
Anger: My back turned, I feigned sleep.
Food: Up at 3:00am, pie and fork.
Life lesson: It wasn't love, he was horny.
Birth: Placenta delivered, I cradled the baby.
If you're feeling inspired, leave a six word story here in the comments.
Signing up for volleyball was foolish...
Posted by: Wife and Mommy | March 20, 2013 at 05:52 PM
Asleep by 9:30, that's tonight's dream.
Posted by: Carol M. | March 20, 2013 at 07:55 PM