Attending my first class last night titled “How to Write that Book”, I realized that I know more than I thought I did.The teacher, who was a comedic writer for 30 years, writing for Bob Hope, Carol Burnette, Harvey Corman and many other big names, seems to know what he is talking about. I expected an old guy in lime polyester pants crooning about the good old days. However, he seems to be more than up to speed in the literary world. He wore a hip Hawaiian shirt, plus this old fella is still quite funny, and has published 40 books! Forty! Again, he knows what he is talking about. The only dating factor on him was that he knew nothing of blogging. I don’t know many seventy year folks who do.
This is not a creative writing class that is going to provide the magical formula to create irresistible sentences, but a course in getting organized, committing to a writing schedule and a few other writing disciplines that I need to be kicked from behind to keep moving forward on. I have a homework assignment too and it is not writing out my spelling words five times each. It’s truly productive work and will create puzzle pieces that will fit into my final literary picture. Documents like query letters and book proposals that I have wanted to create, but never made the time will be exercises in this class. Perfect.
The other benefit of leaving for three hours are the domestic perks. Last night I was not the captain on the S.S. MOTHERNAG.
“Please shut off the T.V.”
Two minutes later: “Shut off the T.V. now.”
Three minutes later yelling: “Shut off the T.V.”
(I walk over and shut if off mid-show, kids moan)
“Put your shoes and socks in your bedroom.”
“Stop playing with the dog and pick up your shoes and socks!”
“No, you can’t have more video game time.”
“Did you finish your homework?”
“Time to hop in the shower”
Screaming through the locked door, “ Lucas, lower the radio when you shower!”
“Yes, you have to wash your hair.”
“Wash your face with soap.”
“Brush your teeth”
“Did you remember your night meds?”
“Time for your nightly reading Daniel.”
“Stop crying and read, it’s a 3rd grade requirement.”
“Don’t kick your brother because he doesn’t have to keep a reading log”
“If you have to cry, go to your room. And read.”
“Is your retainer in?”
Do you understand why I have taken up writing? It is my pacifier, it keeps me borderline sane in a house of stinky deaf boys. My escape.
I returned after three hours in class and the kids were showered, homework completed, kitchen cleaned , teeth brushed and my two boys and hubby were scrunched together on the couch watching Wipe Out. Last night the only thing I had to raise was my pen to take notes, or my hand to ask a question.Everyone’s a winner!