Like Riding a Bike . . .

So here it is. Blog post number 70. I wonder what this one will bring...


It's been quite a while, my dear readers. I've been rather busy with the edits on the book I've been writing. Things are looking really great, I must say. The story is becoming much more cohesive now, which is fab. Today's editing meeting threw me for a loop though. The reason, you ask? Well, one of my main characters has to write a poem.

Now, most of you who truly know me, know that I got my start writing the girliest poetry known to mankind. My first poem was written at the tender age of eleven and it was about a picnic. We went through this unit in fifth grade where we all had to write poems and share them in the class (if we so desired). There was a boy in my class that would always write about war--and it was always wicked graphic and I remember thinking "ew." hahah My, how I've grown since then.

Truth be told, I haven't really written a poem since I've lived in Seoul. That's almost three years, if you're keeping score. I've been so busy with blog entries, short stories, and this particular novel that when I sat down to write the poem, I stared at the blinking cursor for ten minutes.

I'm reminded of a particular scene in Hamlet 2 where Steve Coogan's character acts out the creative process. It's genius. If you haven't seen it, well, just don't ever say I never gave you anything.

Writing is hard, incredibly hard. But what other reason do I have for living? Well, I suppose that's not accurate. But writing is what I love. And it is ultimately what I want to do with my life. So there's that.

So, I know what you're thinking. Come on, Shea. If you got your start in writing poetry, what's the big deal?
Well....

I not only have to write in a form that I haven't been using lately, but I also have to write as if I were a 12 year old girl. And that is proving itself to be a difficult task. I'm not saying it can't be done, but it's going to take some time and a whole lot of revisions.

I think it also has be said that I'm a little scared. I haven't written in prose in a while. What if I can't muster anything up? Writing is not like riding a bike. Or, maybe it is. A really scary bike that is willing to fall apart at any moment...and it's filled with reflective mirrors so the world can see your pain. And the mirrors squirt lemon juice in your wounds.

Okay, I'll admit that that particular scene is a bit dramatic. But you're still reading, right? So..yeah.

In other news, I have a wicked cold right now. Or maybe it's allergies. The change in seasons was rather sudden this year. So I'm currently riding this out. My voice is not the same tone at the moment--my register has gone much deeper. Which is cool, but it's not a sultry, husky voice. I just sound like a boy going through puberty. Hooray?

There has been a lot of updates that I have been rather negligent about, so I will do that all soon. I promise.

Until then. This will just have to do. Besides, I have a poem to write. ^^