first-drafter, part three

a bit of housekeeping before i get into today's aspect of this issue.

as soon as i hit publish on yesterday's blog, i realized my statement about never getting a B in my major was inaccurate. a certain ms. mcdonie, english lit. she taught it like a history class and we'll you know of my challenges there. i didn't get history then. God is a trickster (another topic for another time), and it is funny that the other B i got was in studies in poetry. HA! first semester, i was a knucklehead and underperformed, no excuses. moral: be careful when you stand, lest you fall!

i do want to mention one other class before i hopefully get off this subject forever, college algebra. i don't even remember the prof's name. and that is probably why i liked him so much. it was all about the math. he loved math. he loved teaching math. it was like watching a virtuoso on the guitar, or as joseph campbell says, "watching someone pursue their bliss." (there i go, mentioning him again, well, he said, by watching others pursue their bliss, it helps you along the road to your bliss). i am mathematically challenged, but this guy loved his subject. he taught it like he was teaching literature: and in a sense it is the only language common to man, so doesn't that qualify as literature? the passion for his subject was infectious. i would have taken more classes from him, but i just needed a check in the math box and once i got it, and my surprize B (i thought i was getting an A), i was done.

how does this technique apply to my writing process:

perhaps i can blame it for my lack of interest in writing FOR publication. i have a list of rather unimpressive publication credits, but i am fine with that. i don't know how not to write. it is the stage i live my life upon. it is where all my hopes, dreams, and despair are captured. it is where i commune with God.

i have inadvertently written a book, chronicalling the dark night of my soul, and i hope to punctuate the 300-800 word essays with poetry.

each of these essays, and poems, came about as a great utterance from my mental parts. i didn't plan to write any of it. it was written out of angst, elation and drudgery. people respond to it though. i've heard more than once that it is something "i'd want to read every day as a devotional."

it is an unlikely devotional though. stemming from my dealings with God. each piece penned in 5 to 10 minutes using my technique. i guess that book more than anything will determine if this technique is garbage.

i've shared an excerpt i've compiled with a few people (along the way i shared all of it with a group of long suffering friends, to them, i am indebted beyond measure). recently, i've waded through the whole thing with Life Sentence, my critique group. i keep asking, "are you sick of reading it yet?" and surprizingly (i like Zs btw), they say no.

so when i write, i write one draft only. i would rather write an entirely new poem than substantially edit one i've written. because like a chicken popping out eggs, shoving them back in the hopper isn't an option. i just have to let them go and see if they fry up well (my grams used to make nest eggs when i was little, they are one of my comfort foods for sure!), or produce a fluffy yellow chick of my intellect.

it is all a mystery to me. the technique is one stumbled upon as it were. when i explain it to other writers they look at me like i am weird. i wonder how you look after reading all this, but i figure, i've probably seen THAT look on someone else.

give it a shot. i've spent years doing it. i started practicing this method in 1994, and i would be lost if i actually had to THINK of what to write. and some witty way to write about it. let me know how it goes.

there is an iridescent sickle moon out, it is just before the sun rises, and my cat is beckoning me out of doors to enjoy it with her. i think i will. have a great day! (i wrote a poem about it, but i'll share that with you tomorrow).