Goals

I belong to a stellar group of amazing lady writers who serve a variety of purposes. One of the most important is to keep cracking the whip (which ironically sounds like a $5 bill when I fail to meet my goals...) while goading me toward my own (self-set) three-week goals.

The Serious Writers has been a crucial element to improving my writing and keeping me going. We (5/6 of us, depending on month) meet at local coffeehouses every three weeks and vent, commiserate, share successes, drink coffee, eat chocolate, share bookcovers and reviews and do what all good writers do...set goals. If you don't make your goals by the next meeting, you're forced to cough up five bucks for the kitty. So far we've had some darn good lunches courtesy of the kitty. And since I had to pay yesterday, my goals this three weeks are much more reasonable:

--10 pages completed in the rough draft of my novella-in-progress
--a typed but possibly still rough draft version of the article on first lines (see earlier post on that bit of genius)
--to keep my sanity as I organize and send out the copies of manuscripts to be judged for my local RWA chapter (Central Ohio Fiction Writers) (what WAS I thinking when I agreed to be contest coordinator?)

Since Thursday (goal-day) I haven't even thought about the goals. Maybe tonight.

Stuck Gears

I came home from an inspirational (ok, also my first) writer's retreat this weekend with a finished ten-page article in my hip pocket that just needs revising and a good query letter to find its way into a glossy writer's magazine and the fuel to get cracking on that short story I've been stalled on a for a few weeks. But first I had a speed bump in the road to creative and harmonious bliss...

My thesis proposal.

I still like using the word thesis, even though it's dated and, when combined with my recent stories of how my Barry Manilow CD collection was stolen from my car (no joke...I can't smile without them), makes me sound about as hip as an 8 Track player. Somehow thesis makes me feel scholarly and educated when the truth is that my ability to write makes it slightly easier to pass total bullcrap by in literature reviews and research design essays that dot my path to the MA Ed. I'd better finish by next fall. To say I'm completing my thesis sounds impressive. To say I'm finishing my final project sounds like I'm waiting for mom to pick up a posterboard and markers on the way home from work so I can get out the glue and glitter. Call me old fashioned. Everyone else does!

But back to the roadblock. I came home from school yesterday (the job), raring and barely able to contain my creative energies toward cleaning up the article and starting a killer query (don't hate me because I like writing queries), but had one slight hitch in the process: my thesis proposal is due today. And I still had the methodology to finish.

Yikes.

Nothing takes the wind out of a creative writer's sails than having to write something academic and dry. Luckily, I'd finished a portion of my methodology for my midterm so it was a matter of cutting, pasting and adding in more details. Not the details I liked, though. But the good student in me persevered, limited my action verbs and told instead of showed.

I like to think that the academic writing teaches me exactly what not to do in fiction. I'm sure it does. But what it's done for sure is tossed a wrench in my creativity. You know, like the person who tries to drive a stick for the first time and you hear that bone-rattling grind of gears when they just don't quite master the clutch? That's how my creative mind is working now. Crunched gears.

Here's hoping a sunny day in Ohio is the oil I need to get out of this bind...

Why Another Blog?

This is my second blog. I'm still debating if I'll share my first here.

Of course I will. Eventually. I can't keep secrets for long.

Anyways, this blog is more like a writer's diary whereas my other blog is much more businesslike. I'm looking for a place to journal my writing journey for posterity's sake (and so I can tell mom to check it out when she calls to ask.."What's going on? Why don't you call?" I can only use the "my cellphone battery is dead" excuse so many times.)

And part of me just loves to share my writing experience with other writers. It's such a lonely world when that pre-planted, subliminal, inexplicable urge forces you grab a pen and write ten pages while your friends opt to hit the bar...or your baby (current story-in-progress baby, that is) cries in the middle of the night, waking you from blissful slumber with a lightening-sharp crack of an idea that won't allow you to get back to sleep until you flesh it out.

Such is the life. If you're a writer, you understand. If you aren't...we like you anyway.