Write it out. Tell the truth. Stack up the pages. Learn to write by writing. ~ Ann Patchett, This is the Story of a Happy Marriage
It comes to my attention as I attend writers workshops, classes, author lectures, webinars, that in order to be a writer I have to write. A lot. Many of the teachers suggest having a blog. Well good for me, I have a blog, my know-it-all self thinks. My practical self intervenes. I think you have to actually write something on the blog every now and then. Oh yeah, good idea.
I’ve been writing pretty much every day for 6 and a half years. On April 21, 2011 I scribble out my first dream, later type it on my desktop computer at the long, wood table under the window in my study on Remington Circle in Plano, Texas. At the advice of Melissa I forgo the scribbling, typing it straight on to the laptop. I use the word type loosely here. It is more of a peck using both pointer fingers. As the adventure with my dream-maker takes on a life of its own I add in journaling of waking life events.
A key boarding class would make it a lot easier for you Melissa would comment any time she saw me laboring at my laptop. Busy piling up the pages, moving around the country, and honing my writing skills in classes and workshops I didn’t have time to take a typing class. Yeah, I still call it typing. Finally as the huge oak beside the long driveway on Greenwood Drive in Wakefield, RI blazes in golden hues I find a keyboarding tutorial online.
Sitting at my oak work table under the window in my study on Greenwood Drive I carefully type aajj sskk ddll ff;; over and over. For the first eight lessons I type until I get a perfect score. I merrily stroke out the great deal is here; this is the last year; this is true. Gosh I hope this is the last year and the great deal is here. As the yellows swirl outside my study window leaving the brown branches stark against the blue sky I look ahead to see just how many lessons are in the beginner series. Uh-oh, twenty-four. My accounting self does a quick calculation. The forecast for a keyboarding-lesson-free Christmas season is bleak at this pace. I won’t worry if I make a few errors.
I wish I could say I flew through the next 16 lessons. I want to do something, anything, in record time. The snow blankets the branches of the oak when I type the higher you go the harder the fall; and to tell people the truth that this is a clue; and to take it easy, we should rest here. I want to rest that's for sure. But I forge on until I finally type the sentence with all the letters of the alphabet: The quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dog. I wonder if I will ever be quick at anything. Does everyone think I am like the lazy dog doing nothing? The main thing I learn is proficiency in keyboarding, writing, life, takes time. Lots of it.