I couldn't be more different if I tried.
I feel the eyes (of the younger guys mostly) checking out my pink socks peeking out from under my gray camouflage pants. It seemed like a good idea; the socks go well with my pink t-shirt. I should know that would look strange. Maybe I'll work my way into one of their stories.
Who are these people? Why do I have to feel judged? What does it matter? Two hours a week, that's all I'm required to spend with them. I spent an extra hour with them tonight at the California Pizza Kitchen where they gather after the Creative Writing Group every week, dropped $20 on a beer and a pizza. That seems a bit outlandish. Just to get to know these people better? I won't be doing that every week. Maybe a beer. Still, that's $5 + tip.
They're nice enough people. We're all nice; we're all freaks. Writers. Freaks. Same thing.
The moderator of the Group said something about my fashion choice being "Bold." Okay, so I'm bold. Is that code for homosexual? What if I had on a red shirt and red socks, would that be bold? Green? Black? White socks with sandals and a Hawaiian shirt?
He suggested I should wear sandals if I'm gonna wear pink socks. I said, "That wouldn't be very subtle." He said, "There's nothing subtle about pink socks." Okay, so we've established some ground rules. I guess.
We have to go over three submissions a week (though for the past two meetings it's only been two submissions for one reason or another), chapters from a novel, a short story, poetry, whatever we feel inclined to submit. 5,000 words or less. Less is better, they say. I submit next week for the first time. Chapter Two.
I feel a little worried about how they're going to take my work. How judged will I feel this time next week? I feel confident in my work; I think I'm up to the task.
But I don't know. I'm still worried. I wear pink socks and a pink shirt and I still concern myself with the fact that others are looking at me. Out of the corners of their eyes. I guess that's what makes it feel different. I guess I should appreciate the fact that B brought it up. The others wouldn't dare. I don't think. Not in front of me. Maybe to their roommates, maybe to their girlfriends. "There's this guy who wears weird clothes, pink socks, pink shirt and gray camouflage pants!" Yeah, that's weird.
So I'm a weirdo. My novel is pretty weird, too, probably, from their more conventional viewpoints.
One of the pieces we critiqued tonight was of the Women's Fiction genre, written by M, an African-American woman. The other was by DF, one of the younger guys. He calls his Popular Fiction, I guess, or something along the lines of what you would find in multiples across the front of a display case, hard back, paperback, at the checkout counters of grocery stores. I've only been to two meetings, but he has talked numerous times about being famous, making it big, writing his bestseller.
I can understand that drive. I used to want to be rich and famous. When I was his age (29), I was convinced that I would be famous in a few years' time. Star of my own TV show. So I can understand where he's coming from.
But I don't want to get sucked into his belief system. That's not what I'm looking for. I'm creating Art.
I wouldn't really say that with a straight face to anyone, but I heard myself having an imaginary conversation with someone -- perhaps the moderator -- him saying something like, "If you want to sell this book, then it has to appeal to X, Y, & Z." And I heard my imaginary self saying, "Hold it right there! I'm not looking to sell this book!"
What a crazy thing to say. And that's not exactly true. Of course I would like to sell this novel. Of course I would enjoy seeing it stacked up on the New Releases table. But that's not my drive. I don't want that to be my drive.
I feel like I worked hard to do a good job of critiquing these peoples' work. I read through the submissions fully at least three times, wrote notes, marked things, tried to stay away from making suggestions that seemed like they were saying that's the way I think it should be.
That's all it is, though, my opinion. I was nervous about giving my opinions. Not that the person would think I was a freak (that was already obvious by my outfit), but that I might hurt their feelings in some other completely unrelated way, say something that was way out of line.
But on the other hand, I imagined them (or DF, at least) taking my hard work on his submission and simply dismissing it. Maybe because that's what I'll have to do with their comments on my submission next week!
I can't imagine these people will have anything useful to say. I imagine a lot of blank stares or confused statements or perhaps even some outright denials of it having any real merit.
I'm armoring myself. Really. I want to be open and hear what they have to say, but I think I'll be a nervous wreck.
I also think this is very good for me, just the kind of thing I need, though I'm not really sure I'll understand that until I'm farther down the road.
I feel the eyes (of the younger guys mostly) checking out my pink socks peeking out from under my gray camouflage pants. It seemed like a good idea; the socks go well with my pink t-shirt. I should know that would look strange. Maybe I'll work my way into one of their stories.
Who are these people? Why do I have to feel judged? What does it matter? Two hours a week, that's all I'm required to spend with them. I spent an extra hour with them tonight at the California Pizza Kitchen where they gather after the Creative Writing Group every week, dropped $20 on a beer and a pizza. That seems a bit outlandish. Just to get to know these people better? I won't be doing that every week. Maybe a beer. Still, that's $5 + tip.
They're nice enough people. We're all nice; we're all freaks. Writers. Freaks. Same thing.
The moderator of the Group said something about my fashion choice being "Bold." Okay, so I'm bold. Is that code for homosexual? What if I had on a red shirt and red socks, would that be bold? Green? Black? White socks with sandals and a Hawaiian shirt?
He suggested I should wear sandals if I'm gonna wear pink socks. I said, "That wouldn't be very subtle." He said, "There's nothing subtle about pink socks." Okay, so we've established some ground rules. I guess.
We have to go over three submissions a week (though for the past two meetings it's only been two submissions for one reason or another), chapters from a novel, a short story, poetry, whatever we feel inclined to submit. 5,000 words or less. Less is better, they say. I submit next week for the first time. Chapter Two.
I feel a little worried about how they're going to take my work. How judged will I feel this time next week? I feel confident in my work; I think I'm up to the task.
But I don't know. I'm still worried. I wear pink socks and a pink shirt and I still concern myself with the fact that others are looking at me. Out of the corners of their eyes. I guess that's what makes it feel different. I guess I should appreciate the fact that B brought it up. The others wouldn't dare. I don't think. Not in front of me. Maybe to their roommates, maybe to their girlfriends. "There's this guy who wears weird clothes, pink socks, pink shirt and gray camouflage pants!" Yeah, that's weird.
So I'm a weirdo. My novel is pretty weird, too, probably, from their more conventional viewpoints.
One of the pieces we critiqued tonight was of the Women's Fiction genre, written by M, an African-American woman. The other was by DF, one of the younger guys. He calls his Popular Fiction, I guess, or something along the lines of what you would find in multiples across the front of a display case, hard back, paperback, at the checkout counters of grocery stores. I've only been to two meetings, but he has talked numerous times about being famous, making it big, writing his bestseller.
I can understand that drive. I used to want to be rich and famous. When I was his age (29), I was convinced that I would be famous in a few years' time. Star of my own TV show. So I can understand where he's coming from.
But I don't want to get sucked into his belief system. That's not what I'm looking for. I'm creating Art.
I wouldn't really say that with a straight face to anyone, but I heard myself having an imaginary conversation with someone -- perhaps the moderator -- him saying something like, "If you want to sell this book, then it has to appeal to X, Y, & Z." And I heard my imaginary self saying, "Hold it right there! I'm not looking to sell this book!"
What a crazy thing to say. And that's not exactly true. Of course I would like to sell this novel. Of course I would enjoy seeing it stacked up on the New Releases table. But that's not my drive. I don't want that to be my drive.
I feel like I worked hard to do a good job of critiquing these peoples' work. I read through the submissions fully at least three times, wrote notes, marked things, tried to stay away from making suggestions that seemed like they were saying that's the way I think it should be.
That's all it is, though, my opinion. I was nervous about giving my opinions. Not that the person would think I was a freak (that was already obvious by my outfit), but that I might hurt their feelings in some other completely unrelated way, say something that was way out of line.
But on the other hand, I imagined them (or DF, at least) taking my hard work on his submission and simply dismissing it. Maybe because that's what I'll have to do with their comments on my submission next week!
I can't imagine these people will have anything useful to say. I imagine a lot of blank stares or confused statements or perhaps even some outright denials of it having any real merit.
I'm armoring myself. Really. I want to be open and hear what they have to say, but I think I'll be a nervous wreck.
I also think this is very good for me, just the kind of thing I need, though I'm not really sure I'll understand that until I'm farther down the road.
