Who knew?

Right about now I’m wishing I had some legitimate writers’ training other than the single creative writing course I took my first year of college—my only year at Ohio State. Quite literally, I remember absolutely nothing about that class except one seemingly innocent assignment. We were supposed to pick a subject (assuming I remember this correctly) and play up all the sensory details of a little moment in time or a memorable vignette. I wasn’t living on campus, and on my way back home, I’d sometimes stop at McDonalds to pick up lunch. No one knows why (least of all me), but for some reason, I settled on the idea of writing my paper on the simple enjoyment of a McDonald’s cheeseburger. The very idea sounds foreign to me now—it’s been forever since I’ve had a Mickey D’s burger. But, whatever happened to be going through my co-ed mind…I wrote the paper. And I was rather proud of it too. Even more so when my professor decided to read it aloud for the class—she only read two or three. Imagine my surprise when I started seeing the smiles…then the snickers. Evidently my classmates thought there was something slightly (or overtly) pornographic about my ode to the cheeseburger. I have to admit—I never got it, but I showed the paper to my then-boyfriend, now-husband, and he agreed that indeed it was. I still have the paper. But I really don’t think it should be posted here—otherwise I might be slotted as a writer of erotica…

So you see…absolutely nothing came out of my creative writing endeavors—unless something is left up in my subconscious. So I’m really eating up all the tips I get on blogs, in conferences, and even in craft manuals. But I think I need to stop. I need to get on with my writing and just see how I do. My summer excuses are beginning to look quite lame…