I recently attended a writers' group as
part of a panel to discuss creativity and the Internet. It was cool
because of the people involved. Sharing ideas with folks who are
trying to achieve similar goals and encountering similar obstacles
along the way reminded me that I'm not alone. The conversation was
lively and inspiring.
Before the panel, though, everyone had
two hours to write in a room filled with ambient music to help get
the words flowing. Writing with others present was a twist on my
usual routine and turned out to be surprisingly productive. I started
two pieces that may or may not turn into anything.
The first was an anecdote about when I
went to Oregon not long after Mt. St. Helens erupted to visit a
cousin in Portland and also a friend of mine from grade school who
had moved to a small town 100 or so miles south of there. That friend
and I spent a week or two just doing kid stuff that summer.
One of our activities involved hitting
small rocks with pieces of wood. It sounds boring, but in my memory
we had a blast doing it. I met a girl, of course. We wrote letters
for a while, as one did in those days, and then stopped. I still
remember her. Maybe she remembers me, maybe not.
The second was written from the point
of view of a character in a novel I'm working on. I wanted to
understand her better. I succeeded in that regard but now think she
needs more of a voice in the story.
It's funny what happens when you let
people talk. Sometimes they say things that grab you and make you
want to know more. This character did that to me. She took me by
surprise.
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