Sits Down and Gets Serious About Writing....Oh Look, Google!

This morning I sat down to my computer and continued a story I was working on. 

I just had breakfast, had a warm, half drunk tea on the table, the curtains pulled back and I was rugged up, ready to go. 

I was in the zone. 

My head was buzzing with ideas but still had a focused mindset. I managed to string out a few paragraphs too. 

Then I got stuck. Not dramatically; my character needed a hat - I was determined on it. But What type of hat? I'm not an expert on hats in general, let alone men's hats, but I needed a specific type of hat this character needed to wear. 

I'll Google it, was my first instinct. 

Big mistake. 

I then spent 15 minutes...longer, trying to find the perfect hat for this character - a tangible detail that's not even important!

But I did find a hat. 

While I may have digressed, I clicked back onto word to continue. 

But it was gone. 

My focus, my ready mindset, my ideas, my inspiration and my motivation. They had deserted me. 

That small amount of time digressing had cost me. 

I looked at the words at the screen and went 'meh.' In frustration and sadness I then jumped on here to tell you about it - another digression. 

I find it happens to me all the time - and I hate it. We all do when it happens. But that's just it; it happens. 

If I take one thing from this, it shouldn't be negative. 

I chose to take from this that, even if it stopped my flow, my character (even if he has a smallish part) now has a hat. 

It's a Stingy Brim; if you were wondering. 

Writing Conundrum: A Piece That Doesn't Make Sense

So this morning I wrote a piece of children's writing for class. 
The idea is that it's a stand alone chapter for younger children, but could be brought out with other chapters to make it a simple chapter book. 
I was low on ideas.
But finally I came up with one - a shopping trip with a girl and her father. 
I wanted to make it something different so my mind flew off into different directions that could make the story interesting, funny and most importantly, appealing to younger readers. 
So off my story went, till I had something that I was pretty proud of. 
Leaving it for a while, I continued with other work, so when I came back to edit it, my mind would be fresh with the story. 
There was one thing in particular that stuck out in my mind - the story has no logic! It makes no sense and this could never happen in real life. 
I got the idea all wrong, and my perceptions of what a fridge at the supermarket looks like is all wrong. 
So now, I don't want to hand it in. 
But I have to. 
I cannot come up with other ideas (not at the moment anyway) and I know that whatever I do come up with, will probably suck just as bad. 
But I must hand it in - for my whole class to see - a story that makes no sense and has no logic or reason behind it! 
In my attempt to make it appealing for children, I have lost simple logic, making my story stupid and weak. 

So, do I hand it in, and say 'hey, it's for children, it doesn't need to make sense', or do I not and it in at all. Hm, very tricky, and once again proves, that I truly am a writing coward. 

*Also, no one else in my class has showed theirs yet (if they've done them at all) so I have nothing to go off, in how bad my story actually sucks. 

Being a Writing Coward.

If you're not aware, I'm in the precipice of being a writer...well kind of. 
I'm a writing student at University, I write (almost) everyday, read a lot (thank you Uni readings) and...well...I just want to be one, OK? I don't need to justify it to you; though I was the one who started it. 

Through Uni, they've given us a range of tools to get our works published. 
Techniques on storytelling, writing and editing our work,
The expectations of publishers, the knock backs and the comebacks we'll have to deal with AKA preparation for the real writing world,
The chance to work with people in the writing industry, both locally and internationally and in a vast range of genres. 

Another tool they have given us (well lead us to) are literary journals; magazines waiting for your unpublished, fantastic prose to print. Whether it's poetry, short stories, non-fiction; if it's good enough, they'll publish it. 
The idea of an actual journal publishing my work is the most exciting thing I can think of. 
Despite most of these journals being small, local, hardly read by anyone and not-for-profit - few journals pay money for your work; they don't have the funds - I still (badly) want my work to be in one of those journals. 

I've had a look around and found a couple of local journals that encourage local writers. I think this is a good place for me to start. 
I have even narrowed it down and after look at some (buying them is a good idea to get a feel of what they're after) I have even chosen which one I'd like to send my work to. 
Yes; I have a piece of work waiting to be sent. I wrote it late at night weeks ago (I found out some news that made me angry and hence a good muse for my writing) and since then I've edited it, formatted it, read it over and over and if I had to be honest - I quite like it.

Then doubt creeps in. 
I keep thinking that it's not good enough; that the editors will take one look at it, burst into laughter and send a "are you serious, this is the worst crap we have ever read" email back to me. 
I know it's silly, and even if it is crap (which it is) they'd never put it in those words. 
It's a horrifying thought, thinking that someone, somewhere (and being a small city, not far away from me) is looking at my work and deciding whether it's good enough for print - no matter how small that publisher is. 

I have a deadline; submissions for issue 4 are due early March; if I don't send my work in by then I'll be kicking myself, and I will have the nervous wait of the next issue submissions (months away). 
If I do send it in, I'll be kicking myself; what was I thinking; my work isn't good enough to be in one of those lit mags! 
I'll never know until I try. The bottom line is; if I don't hand anything in - then it will most certainly never get published. 

I just need to get over my Cowardly Lion act over writing:

"I do believe in books, I do believe in books, I do, I do, I do, I do." 

A Writing Prose Challenge

Instead of writing about me (because lets face it, who doesn't want to hear about that?) I've decided to publish a piece of writing I did as a uni task earlier this year.

We were given the task in class and we had 10mins to do it - I also haven't changed the orginal piece.

The task was to write about the sea without using the letter "s".
I chose this because after reading it back a month later, I find it funny how I used words to compensate for "s" words - see if you can pick any of them out.

                                                                          ***

Looking out toward the horizon, I notice a glimmer of light, glow on the top of the water. I try and get a clearer look at the light, but that day the weather contained a blearing heat. It glimmered onto my face, making looking out into the horizon difficult.
I continued to walk along the grainy ground, my feet hot on the natural floor.
I looked out near the jetty; a boat getting ready for their next adventure.
I continued on my walk coming to dried up ocean life, that had been left by the tide. I jump over them; not wanting to change thier natural grave.
Continuing my walk, I notice a voice calling from the ocean ledge. The beach hadn't had many people arrive today but a mother and her boy had entered the water.
Other people began to approach the mother, who cried out louder.
"Help," the only word decipherable; but that word alone did the trick.
Looking out to the water the boy fought with the ocean. Wave after wave jumped down onto him; while he tried to remain afloat.
Men had raced into the water after him; trying to reach him before the ocean claimed him.
Out of nowhere, the once, peaceful, calm and tranquil beach had no become a war zone - man taking on ocean.
I looked back toward the dead ocean life and it reminded me how unforgiving the ocean can be. I just hoped the boy would not be next.