Monday, June 7, 2010

The Weekly Progress Report (for this week and last)

In Marisa’s Friday Flashback she talked about realizing she was a writer. I don't remember when I figured it out, but I did do it. I wrote a novel at nine in the attic of our duplex apartment. Or I would work on it in Clem's class, during creative writing. He gave me special permission to work on my novel instead of writing a short story like everyone else. I wrote and illustrated it in fourth grade and threw it away when I reread it at 12. I thought it was stupid, unfinished and I wasn’t sure what I was thinking anyway. 

Marisa on the other hand, had a file cabinet. Given to her to keep her hours and hours of hard work. That floors me. It seems like in so many ways a simple file cabinet at the age of nine could that solved a lifetime of problems. What if I had learned organization at an early age? What if I had known then what I do now; that sucking is part of the process? That you might as well just save it all so at least you have proof that you have written the required amount of words to be a writer. QUESTIONS: How many words is that again? Do I really know that?

So after reading her post I noticed a pattern. Yes this was one of those epiphany moments, but it just seems so obvious and stupid now (as everything clearly does). This pattern: Write something, finish it, think it is obvious and stupid then give up on it.

Do you know I started this Blog Post last Friday during the unplug? I was writing my weekly writing progress update and was going to renew my commitment to my book (Heather pointed out the irony of writing a blog post about commitment during an unplug hour supposedly pledged solely to working on my project. How many shades of gray are there? I'll figure it out.) But I didn’t quite get it done, as I had to go searching for my son’s black shirt and then head off to his school skit. I returned to it this morning. And now, it is stupid, unfinished and I’m not sure what I was thinking anyway.

Well, that is what I do. My book is in the same predicament as this blog post, and as my first discarded novel was.

So I pledge the next hour to one more try. Okay? I will get it ready to send it off to Marisa and  Rachel and Terri (my grad-school gal friends who have been waiting patiently). And I will post this post just now, just as it is.