So, as a writing minor I find myself in several classes that I have to share pieces. I always freak out about telling a story about life in a way that it hasn’t been told already. Sharing with a group of peers always scares me. The night before I had to turn in my first workshop piece for my creative non-fiction class, I was FREAKING out. I didn’t know what to write about and the only thing I was working on seemed corny and contrived. I kept writing because I didn’t have any other option. I ended up sending what I wrote to a friend of mine and he said that it read like an author who will remain nameless. This author writes very explicit romance novels.
When my friend told me that I died a little inside. I wanted to start over and it was 3 a.m. because that was not the direction I wanted to be going in and I thought I had been very vague on anything that may have been explicit. I didn’t start over and ended up with something that I loved.
I’m sure the semester will be riddled with many more panicky writing sessions and friends who just won’t get it. It’ll be a ride.