novel writing, chick chat, and a low point, exercise-wise.
You can't put a monetary value on money.
Went to the gym and did Stairmaster. Hey, it's better than not doing any aerobic exercise, isn't it? (It's still raining here, dammit.)
Last night was the first Novel Writing class at UCLA Extension. Well, it was actually at UCLA, but offered through UCLA Extension ("We offer you classes, you offer us money"). I've been wanting an outlet for some of my other writing impulses recently, and I want to get back into the habit of writing long, lush sentences, filled with description and inner dialogue and all those kinds of things you can't put in a screenplay.
Michele, another screenwriter, and I decided to take the class together. She had a screenplay she hasn't been able to whip into shape and thinks it may do better as a novel. I have a character I haven't been able to do justice to in a screenplay and so want to give her a different canvas.
Terri, who took this class a few years ago, said it was a great class and she learned a lot in it. But one of the problems was that people in the class had a wide variety of writing skills, and it was painful to sit through some of the less talented folks's stuff.
The teacher spent some time going over the nuts and bolts of the class. Then she asked for 4 volunteers to bring in 5 pages a piece to be critiqued in next week's class. I volunteered. Which was good, because the next call was for 4 volunteers to bring in 10 pages a piece to be handed out to everyone next week. Ha! I think not.
After break, we then did writing exercises. "Describe your grandmother on a summer's day in the park." The two people who read their scenes had really nice writing voices, even though they didn't describe as much as the teacher wanted. Then we did "This grandmother meets the main character of your novel." Once again, the two people (different two people) who read had great scenes: well-written, descriptive.
I don't think we're going to suffer the same problem Terri did with this class. Now I'm just hoping my stuff will be okay.
And I have to write 5 pages by next Tuesday.
One of the things we talked about in this session was what type of novel we wanted to write. I was the only mystery writer, surprisingly. There was also only one romance writer. (The teacher was surprised by the fact that of the 15 students there, only 1 was a guy. She said usually the ratio is reversed.)
A couple of women joked that they were writing "chick novels." I asked, "What is a chick novel?" and one said, "Bridget Jones' Diary." I mentioned that the term "chick flick" is usually meant derogatorily, and they said were trying to reclaim the term "chick." I wished them well.
Today I went over to Tamar's house for lunch. I saw Tamar 3 times in one week two weeks ago; she sent me mail and said, Since we're getting to know one another better, why don't we have lunch? (I never think of asking people to have lunch. No wonder I have no friends.)
So I went over and spent 4 hours, much of it talking about screenwriting and what we're doing, and playing with Damian, and going on a walk with Damian while talking about the work of other screenwriters. We also discussed what we'd buy with a really big paycheck: big houses were at the top of the list, and for a few seconds I thought a screening room was most important, until I got a clue and said, "A library! Big enough to hold all of our books!"
I also told her things about myself I wasn't quite sure I should be telling anyone, although I'm quite sure Tamar didn't see anything wrong with my telling her about weirdnesses about my upbringing or particular anxieties I have. Tamar, as she will be happy to tell you, has no embarrassment gene. I attribute this to her being from New York. She told me several things about herself, as well.
We also talked about online journals. She finds the whole phenomenon fascinating and I talked about some of the ups and downs. She mentioned Toni's journal, and I said, "Yet another I'm responsible for." (Several people have told me I've inspired them to start doing it, which is just the best compliment a person can get.)
Tamar also asked me if I think about stopping, and I had to say yes. I've thought about it more than usual of late. Right now I'm not as interested in keeping it up, but I think it may be a cyclic thing; time, of course, will tell.
I mean, I'm also thinking of getting my own domain, which only puts me several years behind the curve.
I'm getting depressed about working out. It never seems to do any good. I never get the slender, tight form of the runner--what I'd give for just a little definition in my quads.
Oh hey! I was a Random Site of the Day last month!
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Copyright 1999 Diane Patterson
Send comments and questions to diane@spies.com