In college, I had a teacher who made us write three pages every morning before we started the day. It was part of this self-help program for creative people that she was making us do in class, using a book called The Artists Way. The idea was to just write about whatever was on your mind before your brain truly wakes up, and apparently by doing this it was supposed to open us up to a more productive and creative day. Or something like that. All that really happened is that we usually forgot to do it, then scrambled to write a million pages the day before she checked that we did it, writing 'thisissillythisissilly' over every page. I don't think I was in the right mind set to take that idea seriously- all I thought at the time was about how many other things I could be doing instead like sleeping or reading one of the million required reading novels for my other classes.
I started writing a story in my morning pages in the beginning, and just kept it going every morning until I got so far behind that I lost interest. I think it was about a princess that escapes the castle because she does not want to marry the man she is supposed to, and then she meets this mysterious man in the woods, and let's just say things were about to kick off (like, adventure and stuff, not what you were thinking) just before I stopped. That notebook will be an interesting find one day.
I used to get my best work done in the morning. When my friends and I used to go to Wales, I was always the first to rise, waking up everyone else when they asked me to. In college, Nicole and I got up stupid-early all the time to go camp out places and write. I miss that. Doing it on my own is not the same.
But none of this is why I got up to write this. I mostly got up to write this because I haven't written in agesss, as always, and I missed it. I'm trying to write a book right now that is half blogs, and every time I get to a blog section I just think 'This character is just me. This is just me, writing one of my blogs about what I like.' But I am scrapping all of that and starting again- today!
But first I wanted to show you what I've been up to lately, seeing as this blog is mainly read by my parents (welcome to the future, high-speed internet users!) and my grandparents. First, there was the comic festival.
The Story Museum hosted the The Oxford Children's Comic Festival on Free Comic Book Day, and it was pretty rad. All of the artists from the Phoenix Comic, a weekly comic just for kids, which is an offshoot (I don't think that's the right word, but I'm using it) of David Fickling Books, that publisher I'm always going on about. My first day in Oxford, I went to a book launch of a David Fickling comic before I knew anything about anything, so it was a bit surreal to then be helping to run their first Children's Comic Festival. I think pictures are the best way to describe it's awesomeness.
|All the artists, being fab.|
Another cool thing- my play happened in Henley. And it was awesome. I mean, with what I wrote for them, and what Joe directed, it was amazing. They totally nailed it, and added little moments into their performance's that I've never seen before in rehearsal. But I guess that's how it is; you always turn on when you're in front of people. For a story that should not have been crammed into a half hour play, they made it competently come alive in a way I never thought I'd ever see.
|Can You Hear Me?- That's us!|
The best thing though, for me, is when they ask me things about the characters. This mostly happened in the beginning when we were working out the story, but on performance day, the boy playing Rolf asked me if Rolf would die after where the play ended. I said I had not really though about it, but that he probably won't die, mostly because of his relationship to the others, and because I like him. It was the suggested to me by Actor Rolf that Rolf should go on a rampage and kill everyone. I will take it into consideration. I'm just glad he likes him.
All my best buds came out to Henley to see my play, which was another very cool part of it all. Thanks, guys.
|Totally spelled my name wrong. Oh well.|
Last thing had nothing to do with me. I went with my housemate to the Oxford Brookes Creative Writing MA Showcase, of which I was a part of last year. It was nice seeing everyone again who I'd not seen in exactly a year, and cool hearing the new class's work read out. I chatted with my old tutor and the head of the English Department who was going around trying to pursued everyone to come to Brookes to get a PhD in Creative Writing (humm. Don't know about that). And, as always I didn't talk to Phillip Pullman, as I've been consistently doing (or not doing) for the last three years. I'm not complaining- at this point it's funnier that I don't talk to him. I even have a picture this time!
|I'm so creepy.|
Mostly though, it made me miss being on the course. I miss have the deadlines, the assignments I always complained about, but then usually heeded cool results, going to class every week, even the required reading. Never thought I'd miss required reading, but there it is. Can't take it back now. Anyway, I'd love to get a PhD in Creative Writing, but I would never get on in just writing. I'd couple it with some sort of science or other discipline and show how writing can change the world or the way people see/react to/live in the world. Really, I'd love to get a PhD in Stories and study the impact of Story on all of human history. But that might be a little vague. Imagine that, though- Maria C. Goodson- Doctor of Stories. (I am actually starting to work on a project where I am basically being a Story Doctor, but we'll wait till that's official) But in any case, I miss being on a course, and although there are all these online courses I have considered taking, which would be awesome, it would not be the same.
Oh yeah, another thing that happened is the turning of a new age. And by that I mean I had a birthday. 26 is weird, so far I don't like it.
That's all for now, I think. I have the day off, and I really need to get down to business.