Last week, as part of my office’s staff retreat, we had a brief writing workshop. We were told beforehand to bring an object that signifies who we are as a writer for the icebreaker exercise. I knew what to grab right away — my Twitter bird, shown above. Why? Because my first thought was, “I used to be a writer; now I just tweet.”
(In order to not be a total Debbie Downer about my chosen career, which I do, in fact, like, I tempered my statement by also mentioning the upside of being a professional Twitter monkey: I’m ruthless about cutting extra words. You want someone who’ll eliminate the jargon? I’m your girl.)
The months of dormancy here on Ye Olde Blogge make it clear I’m not just imagining that I’m not writing, because if I was, some of it would have made it here. And so, I decided to do something about it — I signed up for an online writing class. Every day for five weeks I’ll be getting exercises and prompts via email designed to get me into (or back into) a daily writing habit, and there’s also a private Facebook group for questions, encouragement, etc.
I’m hoping to explore some things that are a little scary for me, like fiction writing. I worry that I might suck at it, at least initially, but I’m vowing here, in public, to push through.
Please wish me luck.
Oh… and in case you haven’t figured it out, today’s exercise was about accountability.