If you haven't voted on my most recent Battle of the Bands then I invite you to visit here and let your preference be known. And now on with my August posting of the Insecure Writer's Support Group...
The Insecure Writer's Support Group
Join us on the first Wednesday of each month in Alex J. Cavanaugh's Insecure Writer's Support Group--a forum of writers who gather to talk about writing and the writer's life. For a complete list of participants visit Alex's Blog.
The co-hosts for the August 5 posting of the IWSG are Susan Baury Rouchard, Nancy Gideon, Jennifer Lane, Jennifer Hawes, Chemist Ken, and Chrys Fey!
August 5 question - Quote: "Although I have written a short story collection, the form found me and not the other way around. Don't write short stories, novels or poems. Just write your truth and your stories will mold into the shapes they need to be."
Have you ever written a piece that became a form, or even a genre, you hadn't planned on writing in? Or do you choose a form/genre in advance?
Have you ever written a piece that became a form, or even a genre, you hadn't planned on writing in? Or do you choose a form/genre in advance?
Back when I was in high school and college I kept a dream journal. I kept it partly as a sort of self-analysis or something, but I also enjoyed the surrealism of the dream world. Being prone to writing as it was, I began to make stories out of some of the dreams. At other times the dreams might inspire a song or a poem. I guess I could say my exercise in journaling inspired writing in other forms that were in a sense like a bonus--something I hadn't planned on doing.
In my more recent years, distanced from those school years by some five decades, I'm finding that as I am inspired to write songs, certain songs call for me to write a story that helps me visualize the songs better. And more and more I'm less drawn to fiction as my thoughts turn more to memoir.
Maybe in a way I've gone full circle from where I started in my writing interest. These days I crave more reality as real life around me seems to become increasingly more unreal. Who needs fiction when the real world has become so wildly crazy? No wonder I'm looking back.
If "2020" had been written as a novel years ago, would you have believed it? Has this year been more inspirational to you, more distracting, or more something else? Where do we go from here in your estimation?





