My mind has been churning since my last writing class and I've found myself scribbling in my new turquoise Moleskine journal at every possible opportunity. I've been a writing machine, worried that if I don't get my ideas immediately down on paper they'll suddenly float out of my brain never to be thought of again. Mostly I've been working on fleshing out some individual characters that have been percolating in my head for a while now. Scenarios, settings, personality ticks, and my eager anticipation to meet some of these figments of my imagination have kept me blissfully busy. I've been sneaking off during my lunch hour to nerd out and people watch, working in spastic bouts of writing frenzy.
At the end of this first set of classes, a mere four weeks from now, I have to turn in a short story of roughly 2500 words. Granted that's only five pages, but brevity has never been my strong suit. Growing up as a competitive swimmer, my best events were distance ones like the 1650. While most kids begged their coaches not to make them swim sixty-six laps in a short-course pool, I couldn't wait to dive in and start the mile long crawl to the finish. Even more shocking, I used to be able to do it in under twenty minutes (it's amazing what you can do when you are 10 years old, weigh 90 pounds and have feet two sizes larger than everyone else). What can I say? I've always been a glutton for punishment.
I've got to admit though, the whole concept of writing a short story makes my palms sweat a little, as memories of seventh grade English with Mr. Ryan begin to surface after almost two decades of repression. Five pages is not a lot of room for a story to take shape. I suppose some people would point out that five pages is entirely sufficient if you choose your words carefully, think through your character development, and have a zinger of an ending already planned out. Having none of those things, I've got to come up with something pronto. Taking a deep breath, I have to remind myself that even though my next writing event is more of a sprint, I'm in this for the long haul. Luckily, I have years of training under my belt that have prepared me to go the distance.
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| My glory years in the pool....posing with Richard Quick, head coach of Stanford Women's Swimming in 1991. |
I've got to admit though, the whole concept of writing a short story makes my palms sweat a little, as memories of seventh grade English with Mr. Ryan begin to surface after almost two decades of repression. Five pages is not a lot of room for a story to take shape. I suppose some people would point out that five pages is entirely sufficient if you choose your words carefully, think through your character development, and have a zinger of an ending already planned out. Having none of those things, I've got to come up with something pronto. Taking a deep breath, I have to remind myself that even though my next writing event is more of a sprint, I'm in this for the long haul. Luckily, I have years of training under my belt that have prepared me to go the distance.
Years of training with the WOB. You can totes pull this out the night before. You know we live for the last minute cringe, fingers sweating, hearts racing, googling pics of Bologna with 1970s cars. I have faith in you! And want to read the story when finished!
ReplyDeleteAlso, I start my Legacy of the Middle Ages continuing ed class tomorrow night at Rice! I so wish we lived in the same city and could nerd out together. Although you wouldn't want to take me people watching, as I am told discretion is not my strong point ;)