I don’t write about writing much. I don’t know that much about writing, to be honest. And I kind of find the blogs and such about writing a bit … boring. It seems they are mostly written by those who have written something as a way of finding those who want to write something and convincing them to buy their next book or sign up for their next workshop on how to write something.
They talk a lot about fear and shipping your work and platform, and then, after a while, they start to talk about how tired they are of talking about it all because the art has lost itself along the way or the fun has gone out of it in all the marketing of it, and how they are going to take a social media break because they have a life to lead after all don’t you know, but they’ll be back in three weeks or two months or whatever, and please don’t forget about them while they’re gone. This is supposed to be a Very Brave Thing To Do, because they might after all get forgotten, because we know how fickle the masses are. (The masses being us.)
When I was in the eighth grade, I wrote a story called Hammy the Hamster. I wish I still had it but I hardly keep anything. I’m sure I tossed it or lost it somewhere along the way, but I remember the feeling of having my teacher read it out loud to the class, and comment on its style and creativity and great use of dialogue. This is really good, she said to the class, and after she stopped me and said something like, I hope you keep writing.
I didn’t, not really. And then a few years ago I decided to take back my joy, and I started fooling around with it. I began with a family newsletter, which I mailed to relatives and those who loved me too much to tell me to quit sending it to them. Then blogging hit the scene, and I hit the keyboard, and I wrote bad stuff (just look back in the archives and you’ll see what I mean) about my family and my life. And the relatives and those who loved me too much to tell me to quit writing still read what I wrote, bless them.
I’m saying all this because recently a friend asked me to write about my writing process, as part of a shared writing experience. She’ll write about her process and then I and a few others will write about our processes, and then I’ll ask a few friends to write about their processes.
So here I am, processing my process. Sorry.
Because next week I have to write about writing, and I don’t have a clue what to say.