Today

Today I will truly go Bird by Bird. There's too much to do and not enough time to do it. Classic story. I've not been in the mood to do hard work. Because I didn't push it this weekend, I'm a bit backed up with insufficient motivation to push through. I think what will help is writing about it, quickly, and making a short to-do list.

First, I will finish the critical essay in Phaedrus. When I'm done, I will go have some lunch at a place I like. Then, I'll see Margaret, which will surely contribute to my funky mood. When I get home, I'll pack up my books and computer and go to the coffee shop. I will write a response paper for Classic Rhetoric and finish my revisions before dinner. I'm not in the mood to cook dinner, so I'll likely order something for me and Meridith. Maybe Chinese. After dinner, I'll continuing editing and prepare for classes tomorrow.

I'm trying to think about what it would have taken for me to get this done with less rush. I worked all weekend, but stopped work once I hit my "work quotas" for the day. I think I just set the quotas too low. And, we were suppose to go to Michigan to see the fall leaves. We cancelled because we had too much work. That made me feel crappy and unmotivated. Seems that the mood has persisted into the week.

Writing journal entry

I've been dragging my feet about writing this week's journal entry. I'm not entirely sure why. Blah, blah, blah. I don't feel like I've thought as much about writing this week as last. I've been so focused on reading. Okay, this reminds me about something I though of while reading Bird by Bird. Oh, and this is going to lead me to a confession at the end of the journal entry. I'm feeling a bit more energetic about writing now.

I long to produce nice writing. Writing that makes an impression and is fun to read. Back in English 701 I read an essay written by a colleague and friend that was so very good and smart. It was such a neat surprise because I hadn't read any of her writing; I didn't yet know she had such talent. Anyway, I was absolutely enchanted with this essay. Thrilled. Captured. It was so smart and good and clearly right on. My essay, on the other hand, was very orderly and clean. It knitted together several complicated arguments and concluded with something punchy like, "as you can see, these ideas remain contentious." It probably took me a while to write whereas, I'm sure, she'd gotten hers off hours before. I started to feel that something better was possible.

Boy, it was so good. It didn't make me feel all nervous and self conscious the way the pleasure from reading good writing does. Sometimes the intimacy of reading good writing makes me feel very nervous. Her's didn't. Maybe because there was just enough "smartness" to keep some of the icky closeness at bay.

I fell in love with the expository essay in high school when I discovered its form helped me hide from having to write about or feel feelings. Once, when I was thirteen, I attempted to write a short story. It was about a young oboe player who, during her freshman year at St. Olaf college in Minnesota, fell in love with another young, female trombone player. There may have been a marching band scene...I don't quite recall. (St. Olaf doesn't even have a football team!) Anyway, it so terrified me that I rolled up the loose-leaf notebook paper, emptied a yellow fish-food container of its contents, shoved the roll inside and haven't opened it since.

But, I still have it.

Anyway, the point is I cannot fathom writing anything like Lamott describes in her book. Inventing characters? What? A plot? Are you serious?

So here's the confession. I am terrified by creative writers. It's true. They scare the crap out of me. I've recently taken to golfing with one or two, but that's about as close as I get. I feel like a terribly uptight German grandmother around them.
But the fact remains: my writing evidences this particular character.

Elbow and Lamott agree. You have to get out of the way a little bit. I'm hoping that these two writers give me a bit of permission to try for something better in my writing. Something that doesn't make one pucker while reading it. I think taking some risks in my early drafts will help generate at least one or two bits of that nice writing.