Writing About Writing (Metatext)

When I first heard about this class, I knew I had to take it. I needed an infusion of the arts to revive me for the coming school year. I would also have said then that I love to write. Since I have learned how to be a good editor and “tell the truth” as Steven King taught us in On Writing, I would have to change that last sentence to I need to write.

I have always had words, lines, snippets of conversations, and even whole scenes dancing themselves across the stage of my mind. I’ve kept them pretty bottled up even though they nagged at me to be siphoned off, if for no other reason, to relieve the tension and quiet my brain for a little while. But this class has increased the tension, the need to write it down. The memories have bubbled up and spilled over. So much so that today I actually had to pull over on the way home to jot down the words flowing through my head. I would like to be able to say that the tightness in my chest eased after that and I was able to breathe a little better, but it didn’t. I knew that eventually I would have to edit the damned thing and sweat over the sound and placement of each word and image as we have done over and over these past two weeks.

Before now, I have never agonized like this over my writing. In the past, I wrote it and put it away or turned it in for a grade if needed. This class has taught me to dig deeper, analyze, choose the best words, paint a more vivid picture, and yes, it has frustrated me. But it has also stretched me and challenged me to become a better writer and a better editor.

I have dreamed of being a writer since before I knew how to form letters. Long before I knew how to write my ABCs, I practiced loopy curls across the page and then read my stories to my mom. I know now that it takes more than dreaming; it takes guts and hard work to be a writer—especially a writer of memoir (although I suspect that all writers inject a little memoir even into their fictional pieces).

Though I won’t miss the daily commute to Charleston, I will miss the “approved/sanctioned” time to write, the camaraderie, encouragement, advice and support of my fellow writers, and the very practical and challenging instruction this class has offered.

P.S. I’m glad I learned to blog in “polite company.”