finished…until the next thing

So I wrote the speech. Yeah. Done.

I’d say I’m done in by it, but really, not the case. Wrote it. Shared it with a few trusted peeps who’d tell me I’m full of it if I am.

Hmmm. Actually, they didn’t tell me I’m full of it. I would have told me I’m full of it.

So now I’m walking around the house cleaning and delivering the speech. I gotta practice, you know. It’s all about the delivery. So far the dog is unimpressed.

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This has been a good lesson for me. It put me outside my comfort zone. That’s important because I teach composition to people who are outside their comfort zones. It was refreshing for me to feel a little bit of empathy. I’m going to say this has changed the way I’m teaching….It’s true. I used this in my classes this week. It made a little bit of a difference in my students. It didn’t change what they had to do, of course, but it changed my delivery.

Always learning, I am.

yoda

How’d you like that little reference?

Anyway, that’s mostly what I do. Help people find their voices. Help people tell their stories and share their ideas. If you do that, too, you might enjoy this TED Talk. I should have watched it before I wrote my speech for next Wednesday’s event. Lucky for me, I have to write another one for Tuesday, and that one might just be a little more important for me.

on writer’s block and performance art

blockI have to write a speech. It has me in knots, not because I’m afraid of speeches, but because every time I sit in front of the computer or journal or notebook or pile of scrap paper, or, for heaven’s sake, a napkin, I get a brain cloud.

It’s pretty annoying, as folks are starting to ask what I’m going to say. I don’t think it’ll fly if I respond with, “Oh, I’ll let the Spirit move me when I get up to the podium.”

Ha. I could do it, too. Get up there and just talk, I mean. That doesn’t scare me nearly as much as having to prepare a speech. I don’t even get a teleprompter. It seems to work for some people. But then again, I’m not running for public office.

What I most want to do is avoid the helpful people…people I’d no more allow to put words in my mouth than cut my bangs. They are everywhere. And they scare me. Ha!

Not really. I’m mostly amused, by them, my predicament, the fact that ordinarily I never shut up and now I need to dig for words.

I think it’s a good thing. I feel like I’ve forgotten how to write. I’ve been dwelling in the underbelly of the writer’s world these past many months — writing very dry, very boring, very technical reports. Stephen King would have a thing or three to say about my overuse of adverbs. I’ve replaced poetry with formula –replaced the beauty of a well-turned phrase with passive voice so as not to offend.

I need to find my writer’s heart, and I better find it quick. The clock is ticking.

it’s a flannery kinda morning

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When a book leaves your hands, it belongs to God. He may use it to save a few souls or to try a few others, but I think that for the writer to worry is to take over God’s business.
Flannery O’Connor

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