I joined a writing group, yesterday, via OneRoom. I’m also paying a monthly fee (one of two birthday presents from my husband – the other is a pair of ear rings) to receive coaching from a writer/teacher.
It’s been many years since I had an educator in my corner. We have a scheduled chat at 7.30 pm GMT, this evening. I’m strangely anxious. But then I’ve been anxious ever since I started writing down ideas, and creating characters, for Breaking Bread. The story has a dark underbelly that scares me. Whenever I try to lighten it up, another dark idea flaps its wings and squawks raven-like at me.
Being a wife, mother, and grandmother, I have very little time to think about dark, dastardly deeds let alone carry them out. Honestly, the events in the story are antithetic to the housewifely activities with which my ordinary life is strewn. But still, when I start to write, up it all comes – shadowy and ghoulish to scare the bejesus out of me.
I hope I can go wherever these strange ideas are taking the novel and me. Perhaps the writer/teacher will have some advice as to how to get out of the way of my inner fears and allow the true heart of the story to reveal itself.
If it does, I shall step out of my customary writing pyjamas, don a ‘back in the world of real people’ outfit, push the rods of the new ear rings through my pierced lobes and go out for a meal with my husband.