I love finding cool Groupons, and that love becomes ever deeper when the said groupon is cheap. One day while wandering the groupon field I discovered one that offered a “novel writing course” for only five bucks. “Well,” I say to myself, “It’s cool and it’s cheap. It’s a “Win-Win,” and before the words left my mouth the groupon was put into my shopping cart!
This purchase occurred months ago and I’ve yet to get my five dollars of worth out of it. This is true, not because the course sucks, but simply because I’m so damn good at procrastinating. I chide myself and say within my head (and sometimes out loud), “Okay, Hardy this pattern has got to change!”
Well, of course I always agree with the rebuke and in that moment I become sanctimonious in the feeling that “change is a’coming.” Like a “born again” believer I embrace the change and begin my walk on a new path. My good intentions are clothed with determination and held together by gritted teeth, but then, it never fails…life gets in the way (mostly Facebook). I try to ease my guilt with promises of “I’ll do it as soon as I ______. (You fill in the blank)
…and on and on it goes….
Then I had this “novel” idea. (a light-bulb moment) I say to myself, “Hardy, why don’t you blog about your experience of going through the writing course? Then perhaps, your readers would hold you accountable and together, with their help, you could get this novel written!” With that thought in mind I grabbed my computer and begin to write, and so, here I am, again, feeling sanctimonious and determined to get it done! I’m excited because I truly believe blogging as I progress through the course will keep me true to my intent.
It is my hope that you, my readers, will poke and prod me to stay the “course” of this “novel” idea! (All puns intended.)
This “novel course” is divided into 19 modules, and so without further ado I present module one:
Task: Explain why you want to write a novel, detail how long you have had this ambition, identify the type of novel you would like to write, and describe how you feel before commencing the writing process.
I want to write a novel because when I write I live. Nothing in this world makes me feel more alive than channeling my creative spirit. I’ve wanted to be a writer for as long as I can remember. As a child I grew up walking a rusty dirt road that hugged the corner of our old home place in rural North Carolina. My bare feet plodded the road, one step at a time but imagination whisked me away to worlds unknown; and my dirty little feet never left the dusty ground.
I was a quiet and extremely shy child that lived in her head most of the time. My make-believe world proved easier to navigate than reality.
Many times I played the cowboy, Clint Eastwood…if you will, crossing a scorching hot desert in search for water to cool my blistered lips. I still remember the hand-me-down poncho I wore. It was the coolest of all my clothing because when I put it over my shoulders I stepped into a land of “The Good, The Bad and The Ugly”. Oh and yes, I can never forget how a crayon magically became the cheroot my hero smoked or rather chewed.
One night while watching television I happened upon Bowman Body, a ghoulish creature who hosted a horror show complete with Vampires, Werewolves and monsters galore. After this discovery I was helplessly hooked on the macabre and I watched and read anything spooky I could find. Of course as I grew older I discovered the demented world of Stephen King and I was, to say the least, mesmerized! I am still in awe of the man and devour his work like a zombie eating brains. (I’ve always wanted to write that line)(BIG satisfied smile)
I am my own worst critic. I let fear keep me from that which inspires me most. I have these wonderful horrible stories festering inside, begging to be released and yet I fear to put them to ink as they may not be as beautiful on paper as in my head. They are my babies, my creation and I don’t want to do them disservice, and so I succumb to the idea that not writing them is better than writing them poorly.
What am I to do? I fear mediocre so much so I hush my writer’s voice with the hope of escaping failure. Ironically, in my endeavor to escape failure, I only embrace it all the more. Still, never a day passes that I don’t think of writing. It’s like an ember never dying. It’s there, inside…it’s always there…ever burning. Dare I fan the flames?