The free-for-all session. The one where we get to decide whether we want to write novels or poems or letters or maybe some other idea we might have for a writing exercise. For two months this time instead of three. I’m glad that the session length was shortened because I’ve only been a member of this session for half of it and I’m feeling the strain.
I toyed with the idea of doing one flash-fiction story per day as a way of getting out plots and stories and scenes, for their own sake as much as for the sake of possibly turning some of them into longer works. Then I thought about how long I’ve been putting off really working on a story with any length, and how much I whine about not writing enough, and I decided to stop being a coward about it and take on a novel for the next session. Granted, in two months, unless I work at NaNoWriMo speed, it’s not likely that I’ll have enough writing for a novel, but I’ll have a serviceable chunk of manuscript to work with. If I can manage to crank out at least 200 words a day–which isn’t too much at all– that’s a 12,000-word story. 12,000 words is not a novel, not even a novella really, but it would be something. And it would be something created among other people who want to create something.
I’ve always said that poetry was my main thing, and a part of me will always feel that way, but I’ve gained an itch for fiction. Maybe it’s because I never truly attempted fiction since I was ten until late last year. It’s new territory. I have to go there. Poetry has had its time with me, and will continue to have it privately, but it’s the novel I’m going to chase.
It’s going to be tough– I’m not even entirely sure I have it in me. I faltered a couple of times in the course of the Letters session, and I’m sure to falter a few times (at least) in the next session, but I’m ready. Because not trying has been worse.
See you soon,