I was going to post about the doldrums today because a couple weeks ago I finished the last draft of my next novel and decided to “treat” myself to some time away from writing.
Time off sounded good when I thought of it, but I soon learned time off from writing is sort of like cutting off your life; it’s depressing and can leave you with no rudder.
Then this came up: at a reading of When Patty Went Away at Another Read Through book store the other day, the owner of the store mentioned she was organizing events in her upstairs loft. I confessed I had been giving some thought to teaching a writing class to start the first of the year. She said why not have it at the store?
What a thrill!!!! I got so excited. I pictured people coming in, seeking advice from their guru (me) who would be able to teach all this stuff, and be able to guide them toward cranking out best-sellers and award winners.
Three days later, reality hit: Who did I think I was? What gave me the idea I had anything that would help anybody write? How did one go about teaching a writing class, anyway? It looked so easy years ago when I was a student studying writing. It seemed like my professors sailed through teaching about scene, and character, plot, and story. By golly, how could that be so hard? Well I’m beginning to understand how hard it really is.
I love writing and I love passing on my passion for it. I so want to be the conduit to pass on what I learned from my teachers to others who, like me, want to learn to tell a good story. Beneath this nail-biting, I’ll admit I am really beginning to look forward to it. I am eager to impart what I have learned and seeing how it all pans out when it’s in others’ hands. But between now and the first of the year, learning how to do it makes a job cut out for me.
Rudderless now? Not on your life.