Moody Meow

Instead of focusing on the simpleminded charlatans that I work with, I will focus on important things, like school.

We workshopped my story last night, and it was the first to go through the gauntlet. The comments were both generous and pointed. One classmate had a problem with the relationship between the characters, another felt that the imagery of the land overshadowed the characters that populated it. There’s a lot left unsaid in my story, much of it intended, but it got a warm reception. I got nailed for excessive use of adverbs (and I cringed, because I knew they were there) and some questioned the believability of an abused woman not being frightened of the man who damaged her ten years earlier. Beyond that, I need to clarify some of the relationships. I am going to start working in a redraft, and the expansion of some of the characters. There’s also apparently a problem between the scenes because from the first to the last there’s an obvious shift in the character from anger to forgiveness. They wanted to see that…. I don’t know if I really want to show it.

The other two stories we worked on left me wanting. One hurt to read, honestly. The other seemed too wrapped up in pretension. I didn’t enjoy either one terribly much, but I did gain a little respect for them in class. The male writer we worked with had an obvious understanding of language and fluidity of scene, but I felt absolutely nothing for the characters. I didn’t have the courage to utter this in class, but I really finished reading and kind of shrugged. Others called it “heartbreaking” but I didn’t see that in the work. The woman we workshopped had the best opening line “At ten, I became a woman.” It’s a small, simple sentence but it has such weight. With that kind of beginning I expected to be pushed into a deep, clear, emotive story. The emotion was there but the clarity of character and place wasn’t. But I did enjoy the relationships between the main characters.

I’m kind of critical with writing. I realized last night that I love the process of workshopping and of being workshopped. It’s a humbling experience and constantly reminds me that although I think I am wonderful sometimes, I’m still always learning.

Another thing is that for some reason, people trust my opinion. I only offer it sparingly, when someone is having obvious problems and is blindly looking for help. I have a lovely southern gentleman in both my Humanities and Fiction classes. He’s very cheery and kind of intense in a brooding, but smiley way. He’s a series of contradictions, but I really like him. I offered to look over his story for him when he told me he had twenty-two pages. I read it through, and the premise is a bit controversial in these wonderfully PC times of ours. He uses terms that were used in the south in the 50’s and 60’s. I thought in the story, the language was appropriate, although if I heard some of this stuff out in the open - I would kick someone. So, I helped him out. And another classmate, a woman I’ve had a previous writing class with and who fascinates the hell out of me (there’s something terribly mysterious about her) asked me if I thought any of the details in her story, which is about another sensitive subject, were over the top. I realize that they are just people looking for help, but I find that I really enjoy helping others find their voice. I wonder if I can push that through into a career.

So, I don’t have any idea what I’m going to do for my next story. I’m sure I will pull something out at the last minute, but I need to start the research for my BIG paper….so much to write. So much time wasted by having to go to work!

We have good plans for the weekend: LOTS of biking, bowling and perhaps a little R&R. I have LOTS of calls to make..

I am going to go back to listening to Billie Holiday.