Mama Said There Would Be Days Like This

Well, I've done it.  I broke my New Year's Resolution and it's only the 9th of January.  Be glad.  I saved you from last night's pity party, and let me tell you, it wasn't pretty.  I've built a bridge, I've gotten over it, and I've landed on my feet on the other side, so now, and only now, I can tell you the story.

Writers workshops are a curious thing.  What do you love?  Knitting, painting, sewing?  Think about that thing, and then about the project that you were the most excited about when you created it.  Got it?  Now, imagine being in a room with 8 other people for an hour.  Those 8 people are charged with the responsibility of telling you every single thing that they can think of that is wrong with it, and you sit silently on the sidelines and listen to the conversation.  For an hour.  You cannot speak, or defend your prized project, or tell anyone that you disagree.  You just listen.  For an hour.

It's bound to be the longest hour of your life.  Trust me.

When I submitted my manuscript with my MFA application, my biggest concern was that people wouldn't get it because it doesn't feel "literary".  It's funny.  Really funny, if I do say so myself.  I've seen people howl, hold their sides, take a moment to catch their breath.  But literary?  Serious literary work?  Probably not.  So, in addition to my fear about my application, even after I was accepted by both schools, I started to worry about the workshop.  I was right to worry.  My workshop was yesterday, and it was less than stellar, to be sure.  All of my workshop peers, and my mentor, were professional, and gave me their best, honest feedback.  It's taken me 24 hours to get to that frame of mind, but I'm there now.

In this new world where I reside, in this new context that I'm writing within, it's simply the wrong piece of work at the wrong time.  It's still a story that is worthy of telling, that is funny and poignant and honest and self-deprecating, and above all, readable.  But, it's not the MFA's story.  As I wrestled with these thoughts last night after coming back to my cocoon to do a little (or a lot) unapologetic wound licking, I realized that I have an opportunity to have the best of both worlds.  I won't let go of that manuscript, because it's a story that I believe in, and I'm proud of it so far.  It has a very long way to go, but I'll get it there.  However, there are so many other stories to tell.  Those serious literary stories are within me, and the truth is that I write them all the time.  For now, for this program, I'll shift my focus, keep working on my comedic manuscript in the background, and generate new material that's a better fit for this particular time.  Meanwhile, I'll take everything that I learn during the next two years and use it to make all of my work, including the dreaded comedy, the best that it can possibly be.

Mama said there would be days like this, but she also taught me how to get through them.  Pick yourself up, dust yourself off and forge ahead.  Tomorrow, alas, is new day.