Last night I went to writing class after missing three weeks of classes. I got so excited that I was feeling well enough to go that I forgot my notebook and had to do my fastwrite in the journal I have designated for writing my children's story. My story is done, and I'm not sure why I left it in my purse.
The journal is small, hot pink and is covered in cartoonish aliens. I liked the way it felt to write a serious piece in this very childish journal. I wrote about how writing is like playing a violin and writing class is like an impromptu symphony, with all of the instruments playing together and tuning their sounds off of other people, players trying to be better because of the performance aspect and because other people are depending on them and are listening. Actually, it's more like Honors Orchestra where people from different schools come together for one night to play together. I think I will buy another crazy little childish journal just for class.
In class last night, I brought two poems, the dark poems I wrote about in an earlier entry. I had never read them out loud before since I wrote them when I was sick. My husband and daughter read them silently as did I. I love the poems and the act of putting incidents that are horrifying into pretty little poems but found it exhausting to write them and maybe too emotional to read them out loud. I got good feedback but have some nagging doubt this morning about reading them out loud. I question whether they are good poems or are just emotional ones. I need to walk away from them for a while and let them rest.
I am happy now that I feel like turning my full attention to finishing the edits on my children's story. I feel wonderful about the idea of completing it, maybe before Christmas and giving it to my family as a gift. I initially signed up for writing class hoping it would give me the motivation to finish the children's story and so I can get feedback from peers. I know my family loves the story. The characters are us - the human ones are there, but it is the animal characters that personify us. Somehow the story is real to us. After reading one chapter in class, I am not that worried about the quality of it anymore. I do intend to try to get it published and can't wait to try. I will let my kids help me manage the rejection letters so they can see that's how life is, and that we just need to do our best work and persevere in reaching our goals.
For my next class, the last one with small group, I want to bring chapter 3 of the story to read to my group that has been so kind reading with me the dark poems I have been sharing with them. I hope they like it.