I'm escaping from the truth that I totally suck at creative writing. Every exercise has been increasingly difficult and I struggle not just with finding ideas, but also the execution. I can't figure out show not tell. I can't write flowery description. My stories are simple and juvenile. At this exact moment in time I'd like to give up…
But I won't. I'll keep trying, at least for the last two exercises and then I'll see from there.
Yesterday at the WYL group I read a story about foal training, from imprinting on to the other work that I did with them. It ended up being a bit of a how-to guide, but I had fun writing it, and will enjoy reading it in the future so that's what really counts. After I read it, the newest member of our group, an elderly retired vet, said that he didn't agree with the training and that it was all wrong. Wham. Instead of just saying that our vet and farrier enjoyed working with my foals, I got defensive and spouted off a bunch of other stuff. I wish I could go back in time for a re-do. Here was an expert telling me that I didn't know what I was doing in front of the whole group. It was humiliating, and I guess I can't let it go.
On the positive side, today the sun is shining. It's cold and windy but the sun makes it okay. Christina came over and dragged me out of the house for a walk. Her timing was perfect as I was starting to bash my head against my story. The wind whipped at our clothes, but conversation kept us warm.
We are a bit concerned about Spike as he has developed a limp. It was barely perceptible yesterday, in fact I wondered if I was seeing things, but today it is pronounced. I saw it after I sent him for my socks - I felt terrible! My poor little lame dog was doing chores for me. He gamely returned down the hall with them and after he carefully chewed his treat, lay down on the giraffe bed.
Wednesday, after a lovely visit with my parents, brother and brother-in-law's sister Kenda, we went to the high school for a flu shot clinic. Well. When we got there they were serving #198… we were tickets 279 & 280. Oh gosh this will take ages. And it did. Many of the numbers called were not for only one person, but whole families. Two and three, and sometimes even four children accompanied the parents. Kids were sitting bravely getting their needle until ONE started screaming. First a baby spooked a few kids, and then one 6ish year old boy started screaming so loudly we wondered if they had jabbed an handful of needles into his arm. I'm telling you, he screamed and screamed. After that the kids were skittish about the whole thing. Finally it was Carm's turn, and then mine. I kept my eyes averted and my mouth firmly closed, although it might have been fun to freak out the rest of the kids waiting!
"And by the way, everything in life is writable about if you have the outgoing guts to do it, and the imagination to improvise. The worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt.” ~Sylvia Plath