I didn’t include an #AmWriting post last weekend because I was in central Michigan visiting family and didn’t have the [insert whatever] here to do it. I also got wrapped up in obtaining a “volunteer alcohol server” permit, meaning I can serve wine and beer at the South Bend Civic Theater AND our first rehearsal for the two-man play Topdog/Underdog happened this week! I will be the stage manager, a job I haven’t done in, oh, seventeen years. I’ve been really nervous. Like, I was nervous about the first rehearsal that happened yesterday, so I was paralyzed Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. Things I’m working on, people. I did survive the rehearsal, and had a good time, too.
This week, I met up with the same writing accountabuddy as I did last time, who writes slam and spoken word poetry. We talked about a poem he was working on that would be dedicated to the South Bend Natatorium, which back in the day was segregated into “whites only” and “colored” days. He was preparing the poem to read on Sunday at the 6th anniversary of The Poetry Den, a group that gets together for open mic readings once a month. I’ve never been to a Poetry Den reading because I’m always stuck in a loop of “crap, I waited until Sunday night to lesson plan for Monday.” But, it’s summer! Yay! Anyway, I had some idea for my accountabuddy’s poem, and they ended up in the final product. I felt cooool. *finger snaps*
But what was I writing? Well, I got hyper focused on whether or not one of my characters should have a hat that gets bigger or smaller depending on his mood. He doesn’t acknowledge the hat or seem to realize it’s on his head. The hat classifies as magical realism, but I’m just not sure I can sustain it for the whole story. Why not? Because the story’s getting longer and longer, and it’s weird to every once in a while to write, “And mother of god, what’s going on with that hat?!” I know people commented in my last #AmWriting post that they didn’t want me to ditch the hat, but sorry guys. It’s being removed and placed in a different story. A much shorter one. Perhaps a flash fiction piece I can read at the Poetry Den? One thing about spoken word poetry is it sure sounds narrative.
Anyway, does dinking around with a hat for most of an hour count as writing? Ehhhhh . . . . . ummmmmmmmm . . . .okay, technically, but it certainly doesn’t feel good, and I feel like I don’t have a lot to report in this post. Reporting that I don’t have a lot to report shows that I’m still in this thing, though, and that’s good. I also want to give a shout out to my Wisconsin accountabuddy, whom I think I scare a little, but I know he’s working on his fantasy epic that sounds wicked cool. He’s also an organic farmer. Do you think there are farmers in fantasy epics? There should be.
I also spent the remainder of my hour (post-hat-dinking) re-reading an old story about a babysitter who is thirteen and scared of damn near everything herself. When her toddler charge falls asleep, weird things appear in the TV. And then things get really uncomfortable. Anyway, I submitted that story and felt good about it. Maybe I should let the hat story sit a while and just go back to old stuff. Right now, I feel like I’m standing on two horses in some crazy horsey action movie, and I’m trying to jump so I’m only on one horse, but I can’t decide which horse is better.