Thursday, February 27, 2014

Writing meeting: 02/25/2014

I love total honesty. Not holding anything back, not being afraid of what others might think. A bold, uncaring straightforwardness. In the retail industry, there is no such thing. Employees dance around tough and important issues, doing their best to accept anyone and everyone, because no matter what race, what religion, what sexual preference... you have money, and for me to keep my job I need that money to go to the fat cats sitting high in corporate positions. People who work retail are expected to lick boots, no matter how filthy, because lickin' boots puts money in the registers.

And I've been swept into that dustbin, too. I long to be honest. I long to draw an ugly, barbaric knife and repeatedly stab the false and cowardly heart that replaces my true feelings when I don the jester's mask. I want that heart to bleed, to bleed and halt its pulse and die outright forever. But it lives and I pin it to my chest every time I leave my home full of straight-up honesty and enter the mummer's farce of retail. I wear the ugly curling smile that says: "I accept you! Buy this, it will make you happy!" When in my heart, deep down and undetectable it really screams: "You're a disgrace to humanity! I hate what you stand for, and who you are!"

Don't get me wrong. For what it's worth, I do like where I work. Most of my coworkers are nice people who I care for, and who care for me. But to be brutally honest, I am exhausted by the deceit to ourselves and to others that the entirety of retail stands to be.

At writing meeting. We are honest. When a compliment is paid, we know it's straight from the heart. And when criticism is belched forth, that too has its place. And is heeded, or disregarded in the name of truth to each other, to ourselves, to our works...

We met at Jesse's again for writing meeting. After an evening of work, it's heaven to sit with a warm mug of tea in hand and some heartfelt words on paper. Nothing manufactured, nothing mass-produced... just honest writing full of human error. It's a beautiful piece he's working on, one that was hard to tear at because it's so great. All I want him to do is work on it and work on it so he can finish this section and I can read it as a whole.

It was hardly the most... productive of meetings. But it definitely served its purpose. It was an evening of honesty... and a delightful one at that.

Tuesday, February 4, 2014

Writing meeting: 02/04/2014

I haven't done a very good job in chronicling our writing club's meetings very well. I'm hoping to get back to highlighting what we talk and discuss and be better at posting about our meetings more periodically.

This evening we met at my writing buddy's house, to share a cup of tea and go over my short story. I'd only written a couple pages since last we'd met and gone over it, but we dig pretty deep and find some bits that need some work. I fixed them all on the spot, forcing inspiration to help me with the repairs. It wasn't a bad meeting at all. We kept on topic fairly well, except for a couple small instances, and spoke primarily on writing, our goals with our short stories. Unlike last meeting, we neither spoke of nor reviewed poetry.

One thing that struck me the hardest was the delightful taste of Harney and Sons Vanilla flavored tea. Well that, and the wealth of story that I'm constantly suppressing within me. If I'd just dedicate more of my free time to sitting down and belching those stories or parts of stories into the open, I feel I'd be more encouraged concerning my writing.

We discussed the book we're both reading, although not extensively because I've nearly finished it and he's only just started it. wouldn't want to give too much away, as it's a fantastic story best experienced as the author intended and spoiler-free.

Next meeting we'll be going over his short story. He's primarily been doing research for background info, so it ought to be an immersive segment and I'm really looking forward to reading what he writes.

As for me... I'll just keep chugging and getting this story onto paper. When the words do come, they come furiously, so it's just a matter of dedicating myself to getting it written. And nights like these as well as input from peers is immensely encouraging.