On Changing My Mind
About two years ago, my husband was lamenting the loss of his old writing workshop. He made half-hearted efforts to write on his own, but missed the motivating force of a group of people engaged in the process together. I watched him briefly in this frustrated state and decided to fix the problem for him, so I contacted the old workshop crew and invited them over. And then I realized that I was supposed to participate too, and I hadn't written anything but academic papers in years. I am not a fiction writer, I assured myself. My ventures into fiction were part of growing pains, a little like my bogus efforts to learn to play the bass guitar. I felt uneasy and thought repeatedly about opting out, but it seemed a strange thing to do since I had gotten everyone together and padded the group's membership with my reluctant friends, so I gathered my insecurities, sidled up to my own dining room table with the most talented writers I know, and I wrote with them. I was instantly hooked.
When everyone left that first night, I curled up on the sofa with my laptop too eager to work on the prompt for our next meeting to sleep. We organized two shows which were held at Brakeman Designs. For the first, "The Short Show," local artists illustrated the stories workshop members created. The follow-up show reversed the process. Where the artists had toiled over how, exactly, to illustrate a story about a girl who can see love, now we agonized over what story was being told by the comic strip depicting a man stepping on an ant, and "The Bizarro Short Show" was born.
I have enjoyed my re-emergence into the world of fiction writing immensely. I am grateful for my husband's writer's block, and for my desire to feed his need for a creative outlet, which in turn, fed my own.
When everyone left that first night, I curled up on the sofa with my laptop too eager to work on the prompt for our next meeting to sleep. We organized two shows which were held at Brakeman Designs. For the first, "The Short Show," local artists illustrated the stories workshop members created. The follow-up show reversed the process. Where the artists had toiled over how, exactly, to illustrate a story about a girl who can see love, now we agonized over what story was being told by the comic strip depicting a man stepping on an ant, and "The Bizarro Short Show" was born.
I have enjoyed my re-emergence into the world of fiction writing immensely. I am grateful for my husband's writer's block, and for my desire to feed his need for a creative outlet, which in turn, fed my own.