Last night was the first night of my first writing course. It was fantastic. I loved it. And I am really quite bereft that I cannot start properly until March since yesterday was just a taster. It did however provided me with an inspiring kick up the arse to write more so hopefully I can ride that wave for the next month and a half.
Our first exercise was to write something bad which we then had to share with the class. An excellent task as failure only meant good writing – we were all winners! So since I technically failed this challenge (and also because I have been lax on updating the Field) here is my “so-called failed attempt at bad writing”.
I woke. It was dark, so I turned on the lights. I was hungry, I walked to the kitchen. But there was no food. I didn’t know what to do, I was starving, the knot in my stomach was growing. There was no cereal, there was no bread, there were no eggs. The hunger pains were growing, I was despairing, I felt sick from the hunger. There weren’t even any left over chocolates from Christmas. How was I going to start my day? How? How? The walk to Tesco’s would be impossible in this state of hunger. But I’m going to have to be brave and take that chance.
Having painfully read that back I have come up with the following insights:
1. It is really quite a terrible piece of writing.
2. It would be more likely to work if the character errs towards a Walter Mitty (short stories not the film) or Christopher Boone from The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night Time (book or play, I’m not fussy) type.
3. I should find a coping mechanism to deal with reading my own work. Last night I learned that everyone hates revisiting their own writing, which makes me feel slightly better but also worried that I will not conqueror this through the “it gets easier the more you do it” philosophy.