Writing Angst

I've been in the midst of taking an online fiction writing class which has thoroughly taken up all of my writing energy, hence my absence on my blog. That's my story and I'm sticking to it. But, really it's true. I've come to a few conclusions about writing conditions, well,  productive writing conditions, or better put, writing conditions that actually produce decent writing (if that's possible in my case). Fiction writing is tricky business. Sure, I can blog any old, bloggy nonsense, pepper it with a few simple stories about my animals, insert some curse words, hit send and I'm done. Easy peasy, lemon squeezy. Whatever that means. I don't know what it means, but I like to say it and I do. Often.  Fiction writing entails imagination, characters, plot, point of view and that's all I have to offer since I'm only in week 4 of the class.  It's wicked hard!!

  That being said, I've decided that it's easier to write with a cat on my lap. I'm less inclined to randomly jump up to find something to do other than force my brain to squeeze out a word, character, or sentence that is stubbornly eluding me. I really don't like to disturb a sleeping kitty.  Miss Girl and Mia are only  too willing to help me in my writing endeavors. Bless those sweet, furry bodies. Without them I'd be stuck at "The..."

Also, I shouldn't have my iPhone near me while I'm writing. The beeps, rings and trills are a constant distraction. It doesn't help that I'm more than willing to stop writing and attend to my phone's "needs". The iPhone needs to hang out on silent mode. It equals punishing silence.

 Another thing I've learned is that I shouldn't be allowed to have a cherry chapstick on my desk. Whenever I hit a sticky point in a story (which is ALWAYS), I apply another layer. Let's just say that my lips won't be chapped until 2052 at this point. I end up with the most slathered lips in the history of lips after a writing session. I repeatedly pick up that tube and anoint away with reckless abandon.  I look like I've had collagen injections after a mere hour of writing attempts.

And, as much as I love Facebook, with the constant posting of friends and family,  near and far, the internet is the biggest foil to my writing pursuits. Just say no to logging on for "a minute". It's never a minute. More like an hour and then it's time to get to real work ie: my job as a horse trainer. Not sigh because I don't like my job, but it means I've screwed myself on the hours I've preserved for writing. They're precious, like semi-precious gems. Think cubic zurconium. Or gumball machine rings. 

Just know that I'm trying to write fiction. Anything, anything at all. The class is fabulous and I'm enjoying it. It's testing all of my mental faculties and I feel like I'm getting my money's worth out it. Will it provide another career? Will I end up a fabulously successful writer?  Will I get past the first sentence of a story that I think I can share?  Time will tell. But there's no pressure. No pressure. Pressure to a writer, even the most newbie writer EVER is the equivalent of kryptonite to Superman. Know this.