I recently went to my very first writer's club meeting. It was rather amazing to hear, trapped on paper, all the distinct voices of people I've only ever spoken with. We all took turns having our own selections read aloud, and then each group member commented. There was some poetry, and it dazzled me. I got some great feedback about chapter one of my novel; the poor thing is a hybrid right now. It's a cross between that first scrambled draft that I wrote down just after a crazy dream a year and a half ago; the hastily scribbled second draft; and the stronger ideas that I have laid out in my plot outline. Now all I have to do is take that sodden mixture, lay it out all at once to dry, and reassemble it properly. In less than a week. ugh...
I must say, the most difficult part about writing is actually finding the time to do it. I keep saying that if I spent all my time writing, instead of going to school to learn how to write (in other words, going to school to learn how to do something I already know how to do), I would be published by now. And famous. Granted, fame is not my goal. I just want to be read. I'm hoping that my words will make people better.
However, I do need to continue going to school. I guess. There, I learn how to think better, just in general, which is vital to my craft. Also, it gives me plenty of time to build up passion and ideas for my story, so that when the time comes to actually write it all down, hopefully I won't be able to stop myself. I'm just afraid that some terrible accident will happen before I can get it all out of my head and onto paper. Some terrible accident, like a coma or a broken pinky or procrastination or death or life.
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