Today, I am one happy Chica! I am set to begin a new writing seminar next week with Jack Grapes. Talking to him on the phone, our sense of humor clicked. I could see immediately that this guy can help me get to the next level in my writing life. I was thrilled that he agreed to fit me in his class.
Now, 10 hours later. I am just a little freaked out. Here’s my assignment…
Jennifer – i’ll see you next week.
bring in a one page journal entry
in which you write like you talk.
no subject, no theme, no fancy footwork,
no literary style, just plain ole blah blah blah.
i wanna hear your voice, your natural writing voice.
and we’ll go from there.
Simple, right? Shouldnt be too hard. I write like I talk all the time… In run on sentences with mixed metaphors, bad grammar and no concept of spelling….. Ug.
Why is it that when we are confronted with exactly what we asked for, we cant embrace it without some sort of inner-anxiety and ego-based interpretation getting in the way? I hear that the best way to get past this is to face it, listen to it, and talk back to it. An internal head-butt of sorts. So, I thought it would be fun to track my internal dialogue.
Ego: Clap. Clap. Clap. Bravo. So you found a writing coach. Big deal. Like he’s gonna be able to help YOU. Sure, your writing is fine for a low-traffic blog with no advertising or financial gain, but really, you max out there.
Me: Fuck you drama queen. I am a good writer. I could be a great writer.
Ego: See what I mean? You immediately resort to foul language. You’re no novelist.
Me: How about Hemingway, Steinbeck, Salinger, Vonnegut, William Golding, Henry Miller, Toni Morrison…should I continue? All great authors who have used profanity in their work. Its how people talk, asshole.
Ego: You think you should compare yourself to them?
Me: I think we never know what lives within us until we aim to reach higher than Ego thinks we can.
Me: So, it looks like I just kicked your ass, Ego.
Ego: I’ll be back.
Me: I know you will. I read Fight Club.