We Don't Need No Education

It's official, school is out for summer. But, even though I have completed my forth full year of college, school is not out forever.

The final requirement for this semester was for me to finish my "long" short story, and finish it I did. If you were so inclined, you could read it here, on the Notebook.

Finals week ended up being a bit more cumbersome than I had originally intended. Because of that, as usual, things were left to the last minute. Also, as usual, I didn't get to post here as "promised."

My creative writing class really kicked my desire to be a writer into over drive. I've gotten books, talked to real live authors and most importantly actually written things. Going from saying, "Hey I should be a writer," and actually pursuing that end is an interesting transition.

In my experience, when you are in the first phase, the "wannabe phase," it is easy to get overwhelmed. Sure, you walk around and think, "I could be a writer, I like writing," but it always ends up that are walking around thinking more than you are sitting writing. When you actually manage to sit down and attempt to write something, you are met with the most manxome foe: a blank screen (or page).

Suddenly a fresh new Word document becomes a sacred tome. You can't just deface it with any old piece of prose. Whatever you write has to be worthy; it has to be something written by an Author. This piece that you are yet to even create is suddenly the only proof that you are in that elite club and have the right to call yourself an Author. When some asks you your hobbies and you say "Oh, I'm a writer," and they say "Well, what have you written?" this soon-to-be-defaced empty Word document will be the grounds that they will judge you on. What if it's not perfect? Women will ignore you! Men will beat you up! Babies will spit up on your favorite sweater and dogs will bark and nip at your ankles! What pressure! Eventually you decide that you are not up to such a daunting task as producing the definitive work of fiction, so you resolve to work on it later and flip on an episode of Road Rules.

After a while of living in this pattern, when someone asks you your hobbies, you usually say, "Oh well I like too write, but I've just been so busy that I haven't had the chance lately, so there's no use asking to see anything I've written," or, "well, I like to write, but it's a very private and personal thing, and I would just die if my personal musings became public record, so don't ask to see anything I've written," or, worst of all: "Hobbies? Well, I collect sexually explicit Hummel figurines."

You realize that you are trapped. You stopped trying to write the definitive work of fiction weeks ago and have spent all of your free time in eBay trying to find the elusive "Sally the Milkmaid Doggy Style" figurine with the rare paint variation on her garter belt. Your friends are disgusted and your family worried. What is there to do? How will you break this endless cycle?

Well, though I haven't even fully practiced what I preach, I have discovered how to get out. Its so simple that it almost hurts: WRITE, as much as possible. The more you write, the better you get. I've heard the same advice for artists and musicians. Yes, in the beginning, you may not be exceptionally proud of what you produce, but that's okay. If you write often, then you don't have to rely on the first piece you manage to get down to be your defining literary moment. You have to be willing to right badly. Trust me, having a completely finished story or poem or even novel that SUCKS will still make you more proud than countless first sentences that you threw out because they weren't perfect.

The bulk of this advice comes from the wonderful book No Plot? No Problem, by the creator of NaNoWriMo, Chris Baty. I was lucky enough to get a copy for my birthday from Lisa, and its probably the single most useful writing book I own. To paraphrase the author, people are so used to having to be great at what they do, for the sake of their job usually, that they are far too intimidated to try anything new, because they know they won't be great when they start. I can attest to that, though I wouldn't say I was a stellar panty processor.

Things are beginning to change though. In my creative writing class, I produced four complete pieces. I'm happy with all of them. One of them I think I really good, and one I am just proud that I finished it, and that's okay. Now, as summer hits, I know I don't have a classroom requirement breathing down my neck to get me to sit down and write, so it's "make-or-break" time.

I need to make writing a routine, develop a habit. I have the time, and if I ingrain the practice into my daily schedule, this fall when things get busier, writing will already be something I'm so used to that I'll be able to schedule everything around it.

So, my goal is to spend seven hours of every week writing. I've even created a spreadsheet to log my progress. Now, I know I have set writing goals for myself before, most notably for this website that have been met with the same success as the search for WMDs. I know that there is a chance this will play out like a mid-year New Year's resolution: exuberant dedication for about 4 days - two weeks followed by the denial that I even set the goal. Things don't have to be that way. If I don't have a specific story in mind, then I'll turn to this blog, or my journal. So be prepared for random and perhaps pointless entries (because usually my post are bristling with significance). I'm not as concerned with what I write, just as long as I spend 1/24th of my week constructing words and recording them on paper or disk.

Its a noble goal, but I'm a noble chap.

One hour down, 111 to go.