cygnoir.net

cygnoir.net

overwritten

The last meeting of my creative writing workshop was tonight. I am feeling sort of low, because I really looked forward to the group each week, producing material and getting feedback, and also listening to and critiquing others’ work. What I took away from the workshop was a strong belief that no, I’m not “just a poet” and I can tackle prose if I focus long enough on its components. I’m so used to writing poetry – saying things in as few words as possible – that prose is still awkward for me. But my instructor begged me not to give up on it; she said I have a wonderful writing voice and that I bring my poetic skills to prose, which is important, in her opinion, and also in mine.

This week, I brought the beginning of what I believe will be an excellent bit of prose someday, with enough hard work. As I finished, I looked around and everyone was just staring at me and gaping. Then my instructor said, “Well?! What happens next?!” I felt so proud and smug. My exercise in suspense definitely worked, which means I learned something. The piece seems to be shaping up into a science-fiction story, and I haven’t written one of those in many years, despite loving the genre as much as I do.

When I got out of the meeting, I turned my mobile back on and had a message from Jason, who is on his great trek west. He will be here for good on Sunday! Jason, for those of you who don’t know him, is one of my writing inspirations and a very good friend. I’m so excited that he’ll be living in San Francisco soon. We’ll get to hang out and I’ll show him all my favorite places in the city and I’ll bombard him with my poetry until he runs away.

Writing writing writing. I really need to go to bed but I have a hundred ideas in my head, and so many email responses to compose. We’ll see which wins out.

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I acknowledge that I live and work on stolen Cowlitz, Clackamas, Atfalati, and Kalapuya land.
I give respect and reverence to those who came before me.

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