A Year of Self Discovery

(My angry duck face inspired by my Snooki hair, no I'm not a Jersey Shore fan.)

In February I wrote a blog titled “Should I Stay or Should I Zombie.” It was about this idea for a zombie story that randomly popped into my head. I couldn’t stop thinking about it for days. It got to a point where I started a scribble page with notes and ideas as they came to me. Not all of those ideas were keepers but I wanted to capture it all. It was the first time I was inspired to write something that wasn’t a blog. It wasn’t my opinion on any subject. It wasn’t a retelling of a funny story. It was an original idea. Something I could create and it seriously made me consider trying to attempt writing a story. Though I always enjoyed the books we read in English classes, the assignments were the part I didn’t enjoy. I never felt like a writer because everything I was asked to write felt forced. So using my past bad experiences with writing overwhelm me, I let the creative feeling pass. The ideas stopped coming but I did hold onto my scribble notes incase inspiration ever strikes again. But what I can’t get out of my mind was the feeling that something exciting was about to happen. One comment on that blog particularly stepped out to me to. Jac wrote “If you write, you are a writer.” This person, who is one of the few followers I don’t actually know, lit a small fire within me. They made me realize that I am a writer. As insignificant I might be right now as a writer, I write therefore I am. It’s just that simple. I’m not writing the next bestseller or news worthy reports but I’m writing for me. Because it feels good.

The biggest change I’ve made to my writing, is writing what I know. I’m not writing an introduction paragraph followed up by facts. I’m not researching topics. I’m not forcing to quote references, focusing on any grammar or worrying how small my vocabulary is. I type as fast as the thoughts and ideas come to me. I highly recommend it; it’s almost therapeutic. Like releasing the pressure in my brain. And now that I’m excited about writing, I’m actually more interested in proper grammar and expanding my vocabulary. I’ve already signed up to receive a Word A Day email from Webster. There’s still time yet to become a word junkie right? As for proper grammar, well I imagine that will always be an issue. I want my words to sound like me. And until I can speak properly, it’ll always be a little off. Plus, it may be because I’m naïve but I like to think that if I wrote something great one day, I’ll just have an amazing editor to put a good polish on my work.

And I have to say, starting this blog has been great. I love running into friends and family who come up to me and actually discuss something I wrote. I can’t help but glow a little bit when a few of my crazy awesome aunts say I have a talent for writing. Though I do believe they are a bit biased because I’m family, they wouldn’t say that if I was god awful either. So I suppose I can say I’m winning! And it never fails to amaze me which blogs get the most feedback. I think to date most of my woman readers responded to the “MILF Me” blog. And that one made me a little proud because my husband wasn’t too crazy about it. But I had the proof right in front of me, I’m not the only one. And that’s one other great thing about writing; you receive support and realize that your never the only one.

So my writing pilot is still lit. And I’ve begun looking into creative writing classes. I mentioned this to my dear old husband and I was actually a little offended at his response. After asking me how much a six week online course at ECC would cost, Michael responded “So it’s basically a $100 journal.” Ok, I will agree he has some merits. I am a beginner writer. Nothing from this class will probably evolve into anything but I suppose my gambling side is coming out because I can’t help but think what if! What if I take this creative writing class and it helps me get my start. I’ve already had more random story ideas pop into my head. What if one assignment blooms a small paragraph about one of those ideas. Then that paragraph grew into two pages, into a full chapter and before you know it, I have a novel. It could happen.

Don’t get my husband wrong, he’s supportive. And he’s smart. We’ve been together a long time and he knows that I get excited and ambitious whenever something new has caught my attention. What he also knows is that my attention can wan when the going gets tough. So I’d like to point out it’s been one year. One year of what? One year of blogging my friends. I have written 50 blogs in the past year. That’s almost an average of one per week. I honestly can’t see it stopping anytime soon either. So Mr. Vicious, time to embrace the new writer in the family.

(The scariest thing for me about this creative writing class is sharing my writing and getting feedback from my fellow students. Because I don’t’ see it like this blog. I’m comfortable with this. It’s like a journal, justing describing how I see my day to day life. What I’m hoping to get out of the class is starting a story that’s completely made up. Little spooky.)

Love at First Zombie Sight

This here entry is dedicated to my Mom, Labia & Chels.

I tried telling my mom about my zombie story idea this weekend and for the most part she asked some very challenging questions, but a lot of the other times she was just ridiculous. No Mom…my character is not a zombie that falls in love with another zombie. No Mom…my zombies aren’t caused by aliens. Come on! I’ve also had long facebook discussions with my lady friends Labia and Chels whether zombies would be able to roller skate or ski if they were changed while wearing skates or skis. My conclusion was no for multiple reasons and that’s left best for another time. So I decided to use some of these “absurd” concepts above in a little writers warm up. So in essence this is a crack fic little ditty just for you…

LOVE AT FIRST ZOMBIE SIGHT

She staggered into view. I noticed her leg was awkwardly bent at her left knee and she was dragging it behind her a little. She was hunched over from carrying the weight of an ax in her back. Her clothes we torn to shreds and dirty. She smelled like road kill with a hint of pine and soil. As she approached closer to me I noticed her face. There was a large gash across her cheek that exposed her mouth and showed multiple teeth missing. She must have taken a hard blow to the face with something that was capable of crushing and tearing. She was the most stunning zombie woman I’ve come across. She must be the reason I was turned. I took the last few steps between us.

As I neared her, she stopped and sniffed. I could tell she was evaluating me from friend and foe. It’s odd how we take that measure but it seems instinct that can’t be ignored. For if I was truly foe, she go from staggering zombie into raging flesh eating crazy zombie in zero time flat. After it was determined I was harmless to her she raised one hand to my shoulder and held the other hand up as if she was waiting for a dance. I would not decline her simple request. My left hand went to her waist. I had to bend quite a bit to reach because of her hunch and the fact I was wearing roller skates. I raised my right hand to her and tried to inter-mingle our fingers. It was quite a task. When I was bitten at the roller rink my hand had been smashed and stuck in a door in my attempt to escape. Luckily for me the door was in a secluded stairwell so I was able to turn instead of being devoured. I was able to remove my hand from the door when an unexpected human came looking for supplies weeks later. Not only did he set me free but provided me my first meal.

She ended up just holding my hand in hers. It was a sensation overload. I could feel the cold of her hand. I could feel the film of our exposed muscle and the juice of pus and rotting flesh as we pressed our hands together. Had I had blood flow I would have been excited. We swayed to the collective moaning of our neighboring zombies. Had she not have had a limp or I had skates, we could have really danced. We did not have forever though to stay in our embrace. It had been days since I fed and she appeared to have been waiting longer. I pulled on her waist and skated beside her slowly out of the building. We needed to find a meal. But really it was my excuse for our first date.

(END SCENE)

I know, I know…many things wrong with this fic but I’m calling it a crack fic for a reason. Even though this is completely useless to my zombie story, it felt good just to write something. I think I need to really sit down and create an outline for the story in my head. I feel like that is the first hurdle I need to get over. And if I can get over that hurdle then maybe I’ll start writing the story. So that’s my plan; I need to dedicate some time to story idea and decide once and for all if I’m going pursue it or not.

Should I Stay or Should I Zombie?

Last week while I was waiting for my husband’s train to come in, I had an idea. It felt like an epiphany. It felt like it shouldn’t be ignored. It had weight. And days later, I was still thinking about it. What was it; you might be thinking…it was a very simple concept for a zombie story. Though I blog, I’ve never considered myself a writer. In fact, I would even consider my use of grammar quite elementary. (I have these blogs edited before I post to avoid looking like a bigger idiot.) But this idea is still stuck in my head. I can picture the terrain; I can picture my characters attitude towards life. I even have a name for her. But what I can’t figure out is what her purpose is or the purpose of my story. And then I’m thinking, “Well if I figure that out, am I really going to attempt writing it?”

Me, a writer? The thought has never come across my mind in the past. I love to read and can talk about books all day, but I never enjoyed English assignments though. I am guilty of reading a book and skipping over words I don’t understand. I figure if I can understand the tone, the actual meaning of the word is irrelevant. I’m even guilty of overlooking major details. So can someone as clueless as me, actually write a book?

Regardless of my intention to write this story, I have a long list of ideas on my desk that I’m constantly adding too. The brainstorming seems relentless. The flow of ideas sprouts up at the oddest times. I was even so excited about this idea that I tried conveying my enthusiasm to my husband and I felt a little brushed off by him. (Really how long would you listen to someone talk about a story they probably aren’t going to write?) But all I could think of when I told him and saw the bored look in his eyes was “he can’t see it. He would be excited if he could see it. If he could feel it.” It feels so real to me sometimes.

The problem though lies in my fear of the unknown. I’ve never attempted to write anything that isn’t my straight out opinion. I can’t imagine myself writing conversation. Could I write it in diary-style and keep it interesting? I need someone to ask me the tough questions like “where is your story headed?” “Why do we care about her?” I seriously only have a sense of the surrounding and the character ‘s backstory…but where do I take it? I feel like a new kid at school or a foreign exchange student meeting his foster family. It feels icky, unknown and strange.

So what to do? My schedule is crazy hectic with derby and my family life. ECC has some online creative writing courses. Some with basics to writing and others that show you how to write an outline and how to avoid writers block. These classes all sound fine and good but then comes the issue of money. I have a lack thereof; therefore it’s not going to happen anytime soon. I suppose I can just keep a journal of these ideas until I can afford to take a class. But just incase any of you are more versed in how to literature…got any book recommendations to help me?

A Newly Wantabe writer,

Michelle P.