TFBS Take 2: Keep It Upstairs

Song referenced here.

We had the second run of TFBS sesh 1 last Saturday, meaning all of the creative writing portions of the workshop have been completed, and now it’s all about writing, refining, and revising our work. I am at once relieved, and also kind of sad at how quickly things have gone by.

Last Saturday was, in a way, in direct contrast with the first run of TFBS. The weather (surprisingly) cooperated, with the rain letting up about an hour before we started, and then again, around 30 minutes after we ended. I was prepared for the worst: cancellations, power outages, flooding, traffic jams, and encountered none of those things.I was there early, got to set up at my own pace. Everyone arrived (+/-) on time, and everybody had their game face on.

Perhaps the most interesting part of last Saturday (aside from the obvious writing, and for the nth time, surrounding myself with Lydia Davis’s beautiful work) was the mix of people who attended. There was so much diversity among the participants, I found myself amazed once again at what a medium for empathy, and friendship fiction can be–and likewise, what a medium for fiction people coming together can become. I really appreciated how engaged everyone was, and how willing to push themselves beyond their comfort zones (it is no easy feat to stay still for an hour and a half, writing). I could see that everyone was both discovering themselves, as well as beginning to separate themselves from their stories, as if to say: I made this, but this is not me. Being as cooped up, and reclusive as I can be, I always find it extremely exciting finding out what other people want to write about. What makes them tick? Last Saturday, we were taken to all sorts of different worlds: thrown into an online affair made physical, pushed through a mysterious door in the ceiling, suddenly sent hurtling toward an alternate reality where a Sandwich superhero exists to battle evil soda, put in the shoes of a hit-and-run witness, stuck in the head of someone who has been left behind.

Now I am excited to begin doing the dirty work: going through drafts, and reading deeply, and trying to get to the heart of the clock that is a story. What does it take to make it tick? One way to find out.

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