It’s 2:43 AM (as it should be), and I’m sketching scenes for Brad’s suggested outline of the Hero’s Journey.
This is a far cry from twitter-stalking him two years ago, or real-life stalking him through our mutual connections a year ago, or even crashing his post Invictus Vol. 2 meeting eight months ago.
This is actual writing, and a tangible step forward.
When I met Brad eight months ago I thought I had him pigeon-holed – a Hunter S. Thompson caricature (“Be afraid!” he shouted as I took my seat at Red Lobster) who, bafflingly, had some really unique insights about the writing process.
There’s more there, by the way, as most of you must know.
We’ve yet to do any editing for the class, and so anything I write here will be blissfully optimistic. Brad’s class will push us – physically and mentally – but also away from our perceived view of what writing should be.
“Your gimmick is a damn good story,” he told me after the first week.
“This is how writing begins: terribly,” he continues to intone like a chant.
I’m outlining scenes for him, knowing full well that whatever he tells us in class tomorrow will either make this work irrelevant – or more likely – in need of serious revision (and re-revision).
But Brad also said something on the first day I’ll continue to hold onto:
“Writing is about being at peace with being broken.”
Well, Mr. King (and I will regret these words later) – I’m ready to start breaking.