Writing Wrongs

March 10, 2006

Yes, I know, two posts in one day. Of course, I donít really count quiz posts as real posts. Anyway, Iím quite stymied lately. Itís weird and rudderless. Minus the recent Firefly/Serenity film fest, I havenít done much of anything, certainly nothing creative. As an aside, I highly recommend Firefly/Serenity for the uninitiated (watch the show first, then the movie). Good stuff.

Where was I? Or wasnít, as the case may be. Thing is, I havenít been writing. Hardly anything. Itís very strange for me to end one project and not have something simmering on the back burner. I have some ideas, but theyíre all vague, requiring the sort of research and development that wonít fit into the downtime between the first and second draft of The Boysí Club.

So when I donít have anything to write, I get a little panicky. Of course, if I had something to write and not enough time to work on it, Iíd be feeling guilty. Panic or guilt. Which is better? I donít know. And with nothing to write, I feel as though my writing skills (such as they are) will get rusty.

Of course, there are always writing prompts. Me? I got tons of writing prompts, books filled with them. Cutesy little exercise ones, deep-thinking ones. Ones to sharpen your observation skills, others to employ all five senses. You need a prompt? Iím your girl.

I hate prompts. I hate free writing. I hate those workshops/classes where the instructor makes you free write and then forces you to read it to the other students. Like writing isnít hard enough. I donít even free write this blog. I know; youíre shocked. It certainly reads that way.

You know what Iím talking about? The instructor/book gives you something like:

You are a duck. For the next five minutes, write about your life as a duck.

I have friends who can do this. Theyíll give you comedy, pathos, infuse that duckís existence with humanity (you know what I mean).

And I got nothing. The only time a prompt as actually worked for me is when it sparks something Iíve already been turning around in my mind.

On the upside, the weather has been beautiful here, so no writing = a little sunshine on my face. The ice on the pond is breaking up; I can actually see water. Pretty soon, weíll have ducks.

Iím not going to write about them.

Charity Tahmaseb wrote at 4:24 p.m.