writing is torture.

last week's writing class was absolutely the best so far.

i've had some lingering doubts about how well i was fitting into the class, from a writing stand point. everyone else has a really sparse style, while mine is a 'more is more' kinda attitude. (which can also be used to describe my attitude towards jewelry, too, i think. just pile it all on there and go.)

we read chunks of our writing every week, what we've been working on that week, and afterwards we get comments.

everyone is very careful about each other's feelings and we use a the old compliment sandwich method of feedback (not purposely, but it just seems to work out this way) where there's a compliment, a minor criticism, and then another compliment.

i've felt like my compliments so far have been half-hearted, like the other people in the class, including my teacher, were struggling to find positive things to say. they were the kind of watered down that you give to a friend after you've just watched them in a terrible play, where you really reach to find something to say that is positive, despite having just watched/read/heard something almost without redeeming quality. (not that that's ever, happened to me, pals! you're all flawless, always, without exception!) like, 'wow! you sure wrote some stuff there! that was a lot of words you used!'

and then the criticism didn't feel like stuff i could grab on to, which was just as disappointing, because i am all about improvement on all levels. i am so hungry for things to work on, to apply myself to, ways to improve, in pretty much every area of my life.

so, last week, i got a lot of REAL praise for my week's writing, from both my classmates and my teacher. and i got feedback that was immediately helpful and totally on point. everyone's writing was really, really good, noticeably improved from weeks before, and it just felt like everyone's juices were flowing, so to speak.

i left totally excited, like, 'THAT is what i'm talking about!'

it was a nice little encouragement, like a little message from the Muses, telling me to keep writing. not that i would have quit writing, but i am not cut out for slogging away in the face of insane obstacles. i need an occasional ray of light, to mix metaphors.

then this week was torture again.

i have written more in the last few days than in years and i'd say 3 pages of the 15 are usable and the rest are the writing equivalent of what scales are for singers. just warming up. i just couldn't dig in. i tried the same section multiple times, stopping at the end of one sentence and starting all over again. it was so frustrating, to be working so hard and have nothing that i'd like to show for it, but then, at the same time, in a weird way, it was a little bit awesome. having to really brace my feet, bend my knees, drop my shoulder and fucking PUSH. i didn't give up, i didn't despair, because i realized it was just a bump in my writing road, and i just kept writing.

it was exciting.

i have to many things rattling around in my head. i started a new fiction story the other day, based on a sentence that popped into my head fully formed (like athena, kinda.) it's like...the handmaid's tale meets the golden compass. or something. i have no idea, really, what it is, but i only want to write that, and writing my memoir is feeling more challenging.

actually, i need to amend what i wrote above.

my writing of this new story was ease itself. it was fun, exciting and i could have worked on it for hours longer than the 3 i did. it was the dang memoir that was so hard. and i kinda wanted to chuck the memoir and just work on this new project, but i totally resisted that urge and forced myself to go some good work on the memoir. it might not be the best work, but it is stuff i won't be ashamed to share on thursday night, though i am not anticipating last week's accolades.

maybe, since i was so good about my memoir writing, i'll let myself work a little bit on the other one. just a little. not tons. like dessert.

i've been doing the majority of my writing in pen. this my axe,' as the guitarists say. mine is tha silky black one, with the gold fountain tip. it's so amazing. i am going through ink cartridges like nothing, which is making me feel like a polluting asshole, but i guess that's a bit better than using a disposable pen where i throw the WHOLE thing away. or something. i use a hard cover lined notebook, with paper that's thick enough to avoid bleed through from my wettish pen, but not super thick. i'm getting writing cramps, where my hand feels permanently frozen into a writing claw. it's cool. it's like i'm a dancer and i'm finally getting mangled-looking feet! i'm earning my wings, people! i've been enjoying the act of writing the memoir, LOVING my fancy pen and just generally down with my process.

but for this other story that i'm hatching i used my laptop, to compare the experiences.

so far i'm not seeing a dramatic difference, but i'm interested to see if anything pops up.

this last week i felt like i was coming out of my funk a bit. i called a bunch of people, while i had the energy. i worked out more. i just took advantage of the up-swing in my energy.

then the clouds came back and i realized how much the sunny spell had to do with my positive outlook. now i'm feeling a bit droopy again, but i'm also PMSing, so maybe it's nothing major. i mean, probably it's nothing major, because i'll be fine, but i am hoping that i have a little break from feeling filled to the brim with despair. it's been nice to feel so fit, emotionally.

i've begun seriously talking and thinking about selling Yumi. i haven't talked to allen about it yet. ideally, i'd never have to tell him, but i haven't come up with a scenario where that'll work since be lives there and he's obviously going to have some feelings about it. to say i am dreading it would be the making of a true, if under-, statement. is there something more extreme than dread? sinking dread? creeping dread? anticipating with abhorrence? i talked to our realtor about it, and got some info from her to help me, the names of some people in mendo who might be able to help me. i know the market is crap and whatnot, but seriously. i need to dump that thing. it's killing me, and not a little bit. actually, allen is killing me. the house is fine. he is not. the worry about him and the stupid sense of responsibility i feel for him, like he's an invalid who needs caring for or something, is fucking KILLING me.

what the hell kind of grown man is comfortable having a women more than 30 years younger than him supporting him? doesn't that make him feel bad about himself? it makes ME feel bad about HIM, for sure.

whatever. love and light, allen. get out of my house and go away.

more about writing.

alan, my teacher, said something that stuck with me a couple of classes ago. or maybe last class. i can't remember.

anyway, he warned us that writing would start taking over our lives, that everything else would fade back and a lot of things would seem less and less important in the face of our writing. that prophecy was both terrifying and exciting. i felt a thrill of anticipation for that sensation of absorption, that level of commitment and focus. i mean, i already have problems with letting crap slide, so that was scary to hear, but i appreciated the sentiment.

and these last few days i've felt it, just a bit. that feeling that all i want to do is write. i skipped the gym two days in a row, which for me is basically unheard of these days, because i was just so into my writing. i'm not really down with suddenly becoming a slug-butt again, but it is exciting to feel so moved.

he also read us some passages from hemingway's book on writing, titled, mysteriously, 'on writing.' hemingway suggested writing until you knew what was going to happen next. he thought we shouldn't write until we were feeling blank. he referred to our creativity like a well and said we should draw deeply from it, but always make sure to leave some, then to give it time to refill itself. so, when you're done for the day, stop and go do things that get you out of your head and away from writing.

i'm having trouble with the 'getting away from writing' thing at this point.