The ego bubble is the enemy. For the better part of a year I haven't shared my work. I've been writing in a thick bubble free of any criticism - constructive or otherwise. Just last week, I popped that bubble by submitting a story to my writer's group. When I heard what they had to say, I was gobsmacked! I reacted poorly. My issue was not the response to the story I submitted, but my response to receiving feedback. I've always touted the necessity of workshop to learn the flaws of your writing, and touted not being defensive. But there I was - defending! I'm of a rather firm belief that if the story doesn't explain the idea you want to get across to the reader, than you aren't doing your job. No amount of background information directly from your mouth to the group is going to save that story - only revision will. I was upset by my own hypocrisy. I'd thought of myself as having a thick skin, being able to take critique, but I was clearly wrong....
A quiet location (not home) . Libraries are good for this. Something to look at . A window to the outside is nice, but in a pinch you can use one of those over-sized picture books from the photography section and place it, open, against the back of a library desk Something to listen to . Use an ambient noise mixer and a soundtrack to have some nice, wordless ambience. I choose the Ravenclaw Common room on Ambient Mixer and the Harry Potter Soundtrack on YouTube. Clear goals . What do you want to get done during this alone time? Make sure you know your schedule and what you want out of this session. Don’t let yourself come out of this retreat without meeting at least half of your goals. Something to read . You may get bored staring at the blinking cursor but, rather than use this as an opportunity to browse Facebook, why not make that time productive? Read something you’ve been meaning to for a long time, or grab something entirely new from the shelf just because. You can also...
All semester I've enjoyed the stimulation of intense learning toward my Masters in English/Creative Writing. The department is extra SF friendly and the faculty is great. Still, I haven't been critiquing or writing as much as I need to. And now I'm full of story. Those who have to write will likely know what I mean, but I'll try and articulate it anyhow. It's like there's a great, big, rough wooden door in my head between my unconscious/subconscious/imagination/dream-self and my outward/conscious expression. And right now there's a massive first slamming itself against the door: Knock knock knock . My veins are pulsing, there's a sheen of sweat on my forehead; I have to open the door. When I do, I know what will happen. There will be a tempest and I'll have to catch it in something: a glass jar, a story, a teacup. At first it's gonna be a mess, like a flood of tiny glass beads that need to be sorted by color. By I...
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