The Gotham Writers' Workshop believes that this alone is not enough. Craft. Knowledge of the craft. Lucky for me I love to read. I read about writing, I read about reading, I write about reading.
Here is my blog about books, though I tend to neglect it:
http://idiosyncrasiesofme.blogspot.com/
It's all very interconnected, but it is my belief that this is a process. And short of having a mentor, I am thoroughly engrossed. Part of my personality lends itself towards the inclination to analyze. I will watch a film numerous times. Take notes. Observe. Figure it out.
In fact that is a class I would like to take, only not next, next is copy editing.
Showing posts with label gotham writers' workshop. Show all posts
Showing posts with label gotham writers' workshop. Show all posts
Monday, December 05, 2011
JE 43 Sign
The next GWW prompt. A bit about freewriting then this... "Sam wasn't sure if it was a wonderful sign or a sign of disaster but Sam knew..."
...
The instructions say to be free. To write in a white heat. There is nothing white heat about me today. Typing one-handed on my HP Mini as it stands like a greeting card on my bed is about as white hot as it gets. I am not ambulatory, nor am I upright. Between steak knife stabs to the brain, words let themselves be written. (And some don't - this is a second attempt at this post - the first lost in cyber space).
But Sign does bring to mind something. It is the name of my son's third imaginary friend; the first two being Humpty Dumpty and To Market. While the first two seemingly juvenile names derived from nursery rhymes bring forth black and white checked memories, the third does not. Sign is a witch.
A witch called Sign, which I thought was brilliant when he introduced her a few years ago. He couldn't have been older than four. I am sure I referenced it on his blog - Charlie Bean - though not sure where.
Maybe I will read on to see if there is a more moderately paced prompt in which I can participate.
...
The instructions say to be free. To write in a white heat. There is nothing white heat about me today. Typing one-handed on my HP Mini as it stands like a greeting card on my bed is about as white hot as it gets. I am not ambulatory, nor am I upright. Between steak knife stabs to the brain, words let themselves be written. (And some don't - this is a second attempt at this post - the first lost in cyber space).
But Sign does bring to mind something. It is the name of my son's third imaginary friend; the first two being Humpty Dumpty and To Market. While the first two seemingly juvenile names derived from nursery rhymes bring forth black and white checked memories, the third does not. Sign is a witch.
A witch called Sign, which I thought was brilliant when he introduced her a few years ago. He couldn't have been older than four. I am sure I referenced it on his blog - Charlie Bean - though not sure where.
Maybe I will read on to see if there is a more moderately paced prompt in which I can participate.
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