I need a writing-themed icon
Jul. 17th, 2003 10:51 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
offbalanceSeriously. Someone with a book & pen or a laptop or something. *ponders*
I did go to the writer's group last night, and I had a wonderful time. We met at Ollie's on Broadway & 66th, or rather a courtyard in front of the restaurant that the restaurant serves but can't technically kick us out. If it wasn't for the noise from the open doors, and the possible existence of air conditioning, it would have been ideal. Next time, I'm definitely going to have a nice full dinner first. Planning to eat there did not exactly work out too well. It'll give me some opportunities to try some of the restaurants I've been curious about in my area, and a few others.
The people were very nice. Funny, clever, and for the most part, talented. There was one other newbie who showed up because she wanted to 'improve her writing' (which is good) and proceeded to read some poetry which, though it had some interesting observations, but contained the most teeth-gnashing forced rhymes I've heard since I was at Murrow and the Magnet was holding 'open readings' on Friday afternoons. gah. I didn't say too much this time (the combination of being a newbie myself and that I didn't want to be too hard on her) but in the future I may try to gently explain that poetry does not have to rhyme. Or perhaps I should leave that to one of the other girls, who had a real talent for poetry, or the artist/writer/performance artist who arrived looking FAR too much like Matt Levy (wasn't him. But dayum) who read a fantasy poem that actually was cool and fun instead of silly and boring.
Other people, aside from Z, the founder, included a girl who also worked in the legal department of a different company as a secretary, a copyeditor who wrote some hillariously wonderful essays (in the restaurant! last night!) that deserved publication, they were so good, a girl who did not read or speak much at all, and a 50ish mother of a teenager who was very outspoken about her likes & dislikes (but was surprisingly lacking in her vocabulary. She asked us what pretentious and turgid meant, and several other words that just shocked me. Turgid I could understand being a bit off of the beaten track, but I thought EVERY writer was familiar with the word pretentious!)
Also present was a photographer/musician who is writing a fictionalized account of his days in a band in San Francisco in the early 1980s. He was not, but looked very much like, Joe Jackson (I thought, anyway). He also had a pda/collapsible keyboard combo that I almost literally drooled over. Plus there was a pretty cute former copywriter for a cheerleading magazine (hey, they were hiring!) whose forced unemployment had driven him to live in his childhood home in Scarsdale. Scarsdale Cute Guy read a brief essay about being stuck at home and out of work and how it slowly drives you out of your head, and the other unemployed (or just recently employed) people at the table comisserated about it.
I read a brief piece from a novel I'm considering writing. Everyone seemed to like how I write, but what I read (which, granted, was a prologue) didn't quite grab them, but the group was mixed in their reaction. Some liked it and wanted to hear more of the story another time. Vocab lady said it sounded, "like a lot of other things, and that I should find something uniquely my own." Um, fucking DUH. She dropped a lot of how-to-write book cliches about 'finding your true voice' and 'expressing your inner self' (erlack), but wrote well enough for me to give some thought to what she said.
Honestly, I'm wondering if what I'm writing lately is too close to my own life, and that's why I'm so stuck. I've been trying to come up with new ideas and find my way off in a radical new direction along the lines of what Neil Gaiman does (a sort of magical/off-kilter reality) , maybe just to keep my long-windedness at bay. I also came to the conclusion yesterday that I have been SO consumed with writing The Greatest Novel Ever Written (due to influences and pressures in my life that are gone now) that I've forgotten how to just create for fun, which is how great writing really happends. That's why I'm so excited about some of the fanfic I've been writing, because it's letting me re-learn how to enjoy myself and not worry about being the Next Great Author Under 30. I figured I'd have to sound like Great Literature, leaving me to fall into a trap of writing stuff that doesn't sound a bit like this journal, which I'm complimented on almost daily (mostly by how many of you actually read this thing - I almost always assume I'm skimmed until someone mentions a post and I'm floored). I need to try to stop trying to be Great and just try to be me. I felt pressure for a long time to be 'special' and 'exceptional', even though I had no idea what that meant except that I had to accomplish something fantastic. It was beyond oppressive - and I think my imagination suffered for it, for how can you just have fun when you're trying to be Great? Well, I'm not 'special', in the overachieving-goal-oriented sense. There's nothing out of the ordinary about me. I'm just a person, and I want to write things. I have nothing to prove to anyone. I just need to make myself happy.
And that statement feels as good as sitting down on a comfy couch after wearing uncomfortable shoes all day long does. I don't know what it means to be me yet, but I'm starting to feel like I have a better idea, now that I no longer feel pressured that I have to be fantastic at every waking moment or written word. However, I fully intend to keep writing, take the harsh time limit for accomplishment off of myself and continue to go to these meetings whenever I can.
Oh yeah. and do my job....
I did go to the writer's group last night, and I had a wonderful time. We met at Ollie's on Broadway & 66th, or rather a courtyard in front of the restaurant that the restaurant serves but can't technically kick us out. If it wasn't for the noise from the open doors, and the possible existence of air conditioning, it would have been ideal. Next time, I'm definitely going to have a nice full dinner first. Planning to eat there did not exactly work out too well. It'll give me some opportunities to try some of the restaurants I've been curious about in my area, and a few others.
The people were very nice. Funny, clever, and for the most part, talented. There was one other newbie who showed up because she wanted to 'improve her writing' (which is good) and proceeded to read some poetry which, though it had some interesting observations, but contained the most teeth-gnashing forced rhymes I've heard since I was at Murrow and the Magnet was holding 'open readings' on Friday afternoons. gah. I didn't say too much this time (the combination of being a newbie myself and that I didn't want to be too hard on her) but in the future I may try to gently explain that poetry does not have to rhyme. Or perhaps I should leave that to one of the other girls, who had a real talent for poetry, or the artist/writer/performance artist who arrived looking FAR too much like Matt Levy (wasn't him. But dayum) who read a fantasy poem that actually was cool and fun instead of silly and boring.
Other people, aside from Z, the founder, included a girl who also worked in the legal department of a different company as a secretary, a copyeditor who wrote some hillariously wonderful essays (in the restaurant! last night!) that deserved publication, they were so good, a girl who did not read or speak much at all, and a 50ish mother of a teenager who was very outspoken about her likes & dislikes (but was surprisingly lacking in her vocabulary. She asked us what pretentious and turgid meant, and several other words that just shocked me. Turgid I could understand being a bit off of the beaten track, but I thought EVERY writer was familiar with the word pretentious!)
Also present was a photographer/musician who is writing a fictionalized account of his days in a band in San Francisco in the early 1980s. He was not, but looked very much like, Joe Jackson (I thought, anyway). He also had a pda/collapsible keyboard combo that I almost literally drooled over. Plus there was a pretty cute former copywriter for a cheerleading magazine (hey, they were hiring!) whose forced unemployment had driven him to live in his childhood home in Scarsdale. Scarsdale Cute Guy read a brief essay about being stuck at home and out of work and how it slowly drives you out of your head, and the other unemployed (or just recently employed) people at the table comisserated about it.
I read a brief piece from a novel I'm considering writing. Everyone seemed to like how I write, but what I read (which, granted, was a prologue) didn't quite grab them, but the group was mixed in their reaction. Some liked it and wanted to hear more of the story another time. Vocab lady said it sounded, "like a lot of other things, and that I should find something uniquely my own." Um, fucking DUH. She dropped a lot of how-to-write book cliches about 'finding your true voice' and 'expressing your inner self' (erlack), but wrote well enough for me to give some thought to what she said.
Honestly, I'm wondering if what I'm writing lately is too close to my own life, and that's why I'm so stuck. I've been trying to come up with new ideas and find my way off in a radical new direction along the lines of what Neil Gaiman does (a sort of magical/off-kilter reality) , maybe just to keep my long-windedness at bay. I also came to the conclusion yesterday that I have been SO consumed with writing The Greatest Novel Ever Written (due to influences and pressures in my life that are gone now) that I've forgotten how to just create for fun, which is how great writing really happends. That's why I'm so excited about some of the fanfic I've been writing, because it's letting me re-learn how to enjoy myself and not worry about being the Next Great Author Under 30. I figured I'd have to sound like Great Literature, leaving me to fall into a trap of writing stuff that doesn't sound a bit like this journal, which I'm complimented on almost daily (mostly by how many of you actually read this thing - I almost always assume I'm skimmed until someone mentions a post and I'm floored). I need to try to stop trying to be Great and just try to be me. I felt pressure for a long time to be 'special' and 'exceptional', even though I had no idea what that meant except that I had to accomplish something fantastic. It was beyond oppressive - and I think my imagination suffered for it, for how can you just have fun when you're trying to be Great? Well, I'm not 'special', in the overachieving-goal-oriented sense. There's nothing out of the ordinary about me. I'm just a person, and I want to write things. I have nothing to prove to anyone. I just need to make myself happy.
And that statement feels as good as sitting down on a comfy couch after wearing uncomfortable shoes all day long does. I don't know what it means to be me yet, but I'm starting to feel like I have a better idea, now that I no longer feel pressured that I have to be fantastic at every waking moment or written word. However, I fully intend to keep writing, take the harsh time limit for accomplishment off of myself and continue to go to these meetings whenever I can.
Oh yeah. and do my job....
