"lacking the quality or quantity required; insufficient for a purpose"

I was poking around and saw that there is a poetry class at the college I graduated from in a time slot I can make between my work and being a mom/wife. And then I realized that, if I went, real people that I would have to physically see would be reading my work. I would likely run into my old adviser - actually, I would probably seek him out just to say hi, and the words would just start falling out of my stupid head when he'd ask if I still write, and despite my anxieties I'd tell him about this blog because my head often belies my fears.

Once, I was abstract painting on canvas with colors I thought were nice, and the result was so disgustingly terrible to me I had to throw it in the dumpster outside. Even before doing that, I had to completely destroy the canvas lest someone see it and link it back to me.

This is how I feel about my writing.

I thought this blog would be better than what it is. I had high hopes that it would spur me into writing, and then for the content of the blog, I would write about the process. I've tried - I have a whole bulleted page with topics to write about and now that I'm actually cracking at it, I have nothing to say. I don't know how the writing process works - for myself, let alone generally and in a way in which I could explain it to others. What the hell was I thinking?

I'm actually reflecting on what I thought was a grand idea so many months ago and chuckling to myself. This doesn't even sound anything like me, or like something I would do. I suck at directions - note the entry with the mystery recipe card.

I don't know. I fucked up a little, I guess. But, I am writing. And I love it. I love this project so much, it's the best concept I have ever had and if I can get down on paper even close to what's rolling around in my head, I think I might actually have something here.

And one extra minute

My inspirations through this new writing project are Stephen King for style, and Gabriel Garcia Marquez for concept.

Just a few minutes

I had time to write, oh lord, I had time to write. I'm not even going to tell you about, because I still have more time to write, but I did want to share this snippet and also open it up to criticism. At first glance I don't like the movement of it and there is a slight awkwardness and I'm not in love with all words choice.

Oh, but also - I made it through my first section of dialogue (not shown here,) and it wasn't absolutely terrible. It's not great, and it's a close cousin to bad, but it's not terrible. I feel like I've ripped the band-aid off, at least.

Mrs. Perry holds the bundle out to Helen and for one dreadful moment Helen thinks Mrs. Perry is going to unravel the blanket she will have to look at what is inside. Helen squeezes her eyes shut and when she reopens them, Mrs. Perry is holding a loaf of bread in a dish towel. She doesn’t seem to notice Helen’s brush with panic and places the loaf on the counter near where Helen’s hands are still resting. She twitches them away and stuffs them into her apron pockets.

See, quite rough. But I got it out of me, at least. It had just been sitting there, spoiling in my brain, for weeks. Fuck. That felt good.