One of the things I love best about being writer (other than the big piles o’ cash-- ha!) is that writers love being writers. At least, the writers I know love being writers. We all love what we do, we’re passionate about it, it’s in our blood, it’s a part of our soul. I love that. Sure, we all have complaints and down days and struggles and insecurities (and the occasional drug and/or alcohol problem...), but most writers are only writers because they cannot not be writers. I know that convoluted sentence is a mess, but the truth is there.
The problem I have with being a college adjunct is that students, at least many of the students I have encountered, do not love being students. They do not want to be students, they want to be graduates (that’s the best case scenario-- I think some of them have no clue what they want). They want to be finished with the process, but they do not want to endure the process. They want to whine and complain and be spoon fed the answers. They want to do half-assed work and get a B in the class-- or even an A! It is exhausting, frustrating and depressing to grade these students’ assignments, struggling to find a way just to pass some of them, knowing that I’m not doing them any favors if I do pass them, but not wanting to fail them, either. It has been a disheartening couple of days.
I suppose the worst part of this experience for me is that I don’t understand. I like school-- which is obvious, since I keep going back. I love learning new things, I enjoy writing research papers and doing creative projects. I think I’m enthusiastic in my teaching approach and I don’t understand why that enthusiasm doesn’t rub off. Sure, I have a handful of students who are doing well, a couple who seem to be the kind of student I was/am, but they are the minority and they do not counterbalance the apathy of the others.
The semester is almost over and I will be relieved when it is. I hate feeling this way-- I like being passionate about my work. Sure, I’m relieved when I finish a writing project, but I’m almost always anxious to go onto the next thing. With teaching, at least this semester, I’m not anxious for fall. (I decided to take the summer off-- I wouldn’t be doing anyone any favors to teach a summer class with my current attitude.) I’m starting to think I’m not cut out to be a teacher-- or maybe I’m not cut out to teach what I’m teaching or where I’m teaching. I don’t know. But this feeling-- this blah, discouraged, helpless feeling-- is one I can live without.
I can only imagine how I will feel when I submit final grades next week. Sigh.
I’m off to teach Mythology in a few minutes. I’ve been contacted by both of the campuses at which I teach, to check on my availability for the fall. I don’t want to think about fall semester yet-- I want to think about the lazy, hazy, stress-free days of summer. I’m probably dreaming, but it’s a nice dream. I really am going to write my ass off this summer. Still, summer won’t last forever, so I’ll be making myself available to teach in the fall. Sigh.
My weekend plans include grading many essays and quizzes, beginning the process of tallying grades (I still have three more weeks, but it doesn’t hurt to start early) and hopefully planting my neglected vegetable plants in my garden. After six days of rain, it’s finally sunny when I just don’t have the time to work in the garden. Hopefully the sun will shine tomorrow, too.
After those exciting weekend plans, I will be spending next week finishing my screenplay (due April 22) and writing a couple of stories for impending deadlines. I’m not nearly as far along with my script as I’ve led my professor to believe-- though most of it is in my head-- so I will have some seriously long writing days. Not a bad thing, really. I just hate the looming deadline. Then again, if not for the looming deadline, the writing days would probably be considerably shorter.
--Lecture notes mostly done for Friday’s Mythology class. Must print, highlight key points and give them one more read through to see if there is anything I want to add before Friday. Must also come up with some sort of group work relating to either goddess myths or love/marriage myths. Hmm… Will think on it. Maybe I’ll find a way to work romance novels into the class.
--Working on a story about sex and religion. Still trying to figure out where it’s going.
--Wrote the following snippet because it popped into my head, but I don’t know what it’s going to be, part of a story or part of a novel idea I’m working on:
I have heard the phrase “build a better mousetrap” used to refer to keeping a faithful husband from straying. Which basically reduces men to being nothing more than mindless rodents and the whole love, marriage, happily-every-after package to a vicious steel trap whose only purpose is to quickly capture and slowly kill.
I’m okay with that.
--Read the beginnings of my screenplay. There’s some good dialogue there. That gives me hope. It’s due April 22. That makes me panic.
--Making a to do list (already) for summer:
--Finish screenplay and enter it in the Virginia Screenwriting Competition (deadline May 23).
--Work on summer anthology deadlines (I have 10 calls for submission at the moment, that number is sure to increase).
--Finish my novel proposal for Avon Red.
--Agent hunt. Again.
--Read, read, read (and update my GoodReads page).
--Figure out what/if I’m teaching in the fall.
--Reinvent Book ClubTM! I have big plans!
--Chicago? South America? Florida? A trip-- somewhere!
I think there will be more, but that’s a start.
Buzzing along at Starbucks, getting ready for class (Mythology) tomorrow. Everything is graded-- for that class. I still have the online English Composition essays to grade. Maybe this weekend? Ah. Spring Break is next week and I’m very much looking forward to it, though I know I really should spend many, many hours working on my screenplay.
I have a tendency, when my plate is full, to heap a few more things onto it. Take the screenwriting class, for instance. It really shouldn’t be much of a challenge for a professional (::cough:: me ::cough::) to write a first draft of a screenplay. Really. And I know it. So, when something like this comes along (courtesy of my screenwriting professor, no less), I feel like I must rise to the occasion. Never mind that it’s my first screenplay. Never mind that writing a first draft by the end of April and writing a final draft by the end of May are two entirely different beasts. Never mind that I don’t stand a chance in Hell at winning a screenwriting competition. I am writer, hear me roar. Or write. Whatever. Must do it. (The masochist’s version of “Just do it.")
Then there is the lovely and talented and driven Alana, who occasionally forwards interesting calls for submissions. She inspires me to want to write something for these calls-- something good and literary and emotional-- something I don’t possibly have time to write with everything else I’m supposed to be writing. But I want to and feel like I should, since my writing friend took the time to forward the call for submissions. Must do it.
Looking at my Stickies, I see that I have seven calls for submissions on my must-submit-something list and four on the if-I-have-time-to-submit list. These calls for submissions do not include the calls received from writer friends or that I run across in my daily blog and magazine readings. My head spins when I contemplate the grand total and I become anxious when I consider how many I can really submit to, with deadlines ranging from March 31 to June 15. Unfortunately, I find I often have ideas for the later deadlines and the fast approaching deadlines leave me blank-minded and frozen-fingered. Ack. Better not to think about it, but I still must do it.
I read once that the more you do, the more you find time to do. Or something like that. It referred to writers who dream of giving up the day job and writing full-time. In theory, you’re likely to accomplish more with a full-time job on top of the writing job than you are if you write full-time because you will structure your free time better if you’re working a regular job and you will squander much of your time with promises of “I will write later” if you are writing full-time. There are times when I can vouch for that. While the full-time writing is currently juxtaposed with part-time teaching, part-time studenting (not a word, I know) and full-time husband at home part-time, I am writing more lately than I think I could write if I were working full-time. Lately. This has not always been the case. I am glad I feel the sense of urgency that makes me write when part of my brain says I’ve done enough for one day (or that it’s Sunday, so take the day off for god’s sake), but I wonder if I will ever feel like I’ve really done enough.
Must do it. All. Now.
In writing my lecture notes for Friday on Joseph Campbell’s The Power of Myth (specifically, the section called “The First Storytellers") I have been able to incorporate:
--William Wordsworth’s Ode: Intimations of Immortality
--Carl Jung
--the collective unconscious
--Judaism
--Buddhism
--death rituals
--the Blackfoot Indians
--hunting rituals
--animal consumption in contemporary culture
--menstruation
--female genital cutting
--William Gibson and his novel Neuromancer
--cyberspace
--science fiction
Fun! (I know, I know… I’m a geek.)
Life. Love. Writing. Friendship.
Sex. Books. Movies. Travel. Politics. Feminism. Academia. Insomnia. Rants. Raves. Chocolate. Lots of chocolate. Some names have been changed, some stories have been embellished. Thanks for stopping by and beware of the dog. Read more...
