Similarly to the way this post just doesn’t fit at the other blog, fiction just isn’t working for me. Today at least.
Yesterday I signed up for a free MOOC: the Iowa Writer’s Workshop(!) free class How Writers Write Fiction. This afternoon I’ve been working on the first assignment for the class, and it’s just not working. I have been more drawn to essay and poetry of late (which is not to say I write prolifically, or at all, but when I think about it, it’s never fiction).
I am undecided as to whether I will just skip this exercise [insert slap on the wrist: bad Allison] or try again another day.
I need to write, but I’m out of the habit.
I’ve been thinking about the written word, the literary world lately. It’s yet to be determined whether I’ll have something to say to a large audience, but this inkling of passion is a welcome change. And I can’t help but think it’s rumbling around for a reason. We shall see.
In the meantime, I’m going to go start reading Anne Lamott’s Bird by Bird. I’ve owned it for ages; it’s on my list for 2015 reading; I need a kick in the pants; I’ve got to start writing more than off-the-cuff blogs.