You may have noticed a slight change in these pages this week. I resolved on Sunday that I was going to write something new – actual creative writing, not just posting my jumbled thoughts – each day for the coming workweek. The urge arose because, well, because I haven’t written squat in about, oh…three years. And in recent weeks since landing here in Annapolis, I’ve been encouraging a couple of new friends to write THEIR stories and projects (both of which I believe are really good ideas). I had become the living embodiment of “do as I say, not as I do.” So I figured just making myself write SOMETHING would help.
And it has. No, nothing I’ve written this week is any good but that wasn’t the point. It was more an exercise to get my writing muscles going again. So on Monday, I sat down at the local coffee shop and whipped out that hockey scene. Some of you probably have heard that the described scene is actually my vision for what heaven (if heaven were to exist) would be. And since I had skated Sunday night, hockey was front of mind and I jotted it down.
Tuesday’s story arose when I got to reminiscing about a fond memory. I took the kernel of an evening in San Diego, layered on memories from other times and places, and cranked that out. Again, it was an attempt to use long-dormant writing muscles, this time to evoke a scene and an emotion that might resonate with others if I could paint the scene properly.
Yesterday’s scene was an attempt to present dialogue. It was prompted by a friend who’d contacted me to say there was a preponderance of death in my recent posts and wondered if I was all right. I started with her inquiry, combined several different people and places and times in my life to form the two characters, and dropped them into the coffee shop where I sat each morning this week.
And that’s where I sit now, unable to make it four days in a row. Hence, this apologetic and explanatory post. But I’m not really sorry or upset. After too long a time being inactive, these baby steps have been a good way to get rolling again. I wasn’t going to go from zero to novel or screenplay in one fell swoop. I’ll work up to that. And as Hemingway taught, I’ll leave off each day knowing what is to happen when I pick up the story the next morning so I won’t draw a blank – like I am today.
Now I need to do the same thing for the muscles in my scrawny arms and legs, and ample gut. And as with this week, I’ll start with baby steps. I’m not going to jump right into running a marathon or doing some crazy-@$$ed Crossfit workout. Not right away, at least. Those will come hand-in-hand with that Great American Novel that will be in the works. Soon. 😉