I’m taking Janelle Hanchett’s Write Anyway class, and because of who I am as a person, I am already slacking off and haven’t finished writing the piece that was due for feedback on Thursday.
It’s Sunday now, and although I have started and stopped four different essays, I still am not sure which one is the right story to tell.
Write about the last time I did something I was afraid of, but did anyway?
This shit is deep. Much deeper than I thought any writing class could be. It’s more like an online group therapy session at this point than a writing class, because we aren’t focusing on mechanics, or style, or even themes or plot doctoring.
We’re just trying to figure out how to write at all. How to get the words out of ourselves and put them onto the page in a way that makes sense, and then find the courage, or whatever, to share them.
Oh hell, why bother taking this lightly?
It is courage.
It’s courage and bravery to say the things that you feel and put them out there for other people to read, judge, and react upon, and I have never been good at it, which is a total waste, because I write an awful lot.
This class, Write Anyway, is just as much about courage and bravery as it is about learning to not give a shit if people don’t like what you have to say, or if they disagree with you.
We’re in week three and it hasn’t gotten any easier for me yet, but I think I am just going to come here every day and write anyway until it does.
I keep on saying that I have a lot to say and then not saying it, and that’s so boring.
Life gets pretty boring in general when you’re an adult, though, that’s normal. You just have to make it interesting for yourself. You’ve got to go out and do those exciting, scary things that make life interesting and weird and wonderful. Then, even if you think no one’s reading and that no one will care, you’ve got to write about them anyway.
I’m pretty slow, you know? But I’m starting to get it.