The writing of sleep
Exhausted. Two events down, two to go. Today is slight day of rest; slight in that I'm wrapping up some things from yesterday's event and prepping some things for tomorrow's two. I told myself I'd not set my alarm and instead play it by ear - if I got up in time for the gym I'd go, if not, I'd skip it. This is the only day this week I could even go, but I could forgo that in exchange for sleep. But I woke up at 5, so I'll go to the gym.
My online writing class is in its second week. I'm behind on reading others' stories, but will try to catch up this weekend. It's a master class, so is supposed to be less about learning the craft of writing than it is about - well, mastering it. I didn't expect that the weekly "lectures" would not involve the instructor sharing any insights into writing, but merely posing a question and letting the class go at it. He's very good at jumping in and challenging and posing subsequent questions that drive the conversation forward, but I'm less interested in discussing the popularity of memoir vs. fiction as I am how to bring characters alive in either. Does that mean I'm not ready for a master class? I don't think so. I think I just find it less than inspiring to read what some of the others think - as I'd mentioned in an earlier post, there is so much posturing to sound more intelligent and informed than the last person. Plus, when it comes from someone whose writing I've already read and was underwhelmed by, I'm less than intrigued by his or her opinion.
Tonight my live writing workshop will discuss a story (or half a story) I madly finished last week and sent to them. I haven't looked at it since and am on that familiar fence where I think it's either brilliant or crap and would rather wait for their comments than read it over today and feel my heart sink, realizing how bad it is. Sigh.
My online writing class is in its second week. I'm behind on reading others' stories, but will try to catch up this weekend. It's a master class, so is supposed to be less about learning the craft of writing than it is about - well, mastering it. I didn't expect that the weekly "lectures" would not involve the instructor sharing any insights into writing, but merely posing a question and letting the class go at it. He's very good at jumping in and challenging and posing subsequent questions that drive the conversation forward, but I'm less interested in discussing the popularity of memoir vs. fiction as I am how to bring characters alive in either. Does that mean I'm not ready for a master class? I don't think so. I think I just find it less than inspiring to read what some of the others think - as I'd mentioned in an earlier post, there is so much posturing to sound more intelligent and informed than the last person. Plus, when it comes from someone whose writing I've already read and was underwhelmed by, I'm less than intrigued by his or her opinion.
Tonight my live writing workshop will discuss a story (or half a story) I madly finished last week and sent to them. I haven't looked at it since and am on that familiar fence where I think it's either brilliant or crap and would rather wait for their comments than read it over today and feel my heart sink, realizing how bad it is. Sigh.
posted by medusa at 5:44 AM
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