Writing about The Movement

I've been trying to write an essay for the Oregon Quarterly Essay contest, which I used to enter every year until I decided I knew too little about how nonfiction was being written these days, and felt I couldn't catch up. That was essentially one of my many excuses for not following through on goals.

This book You Are Not Your Brain is kicking my excuse factory in the head (my head). I have all these neural pathways that do not serve my goals. I won't do the work they suggest (charts and stuff), I hold on tightly to my mode of making excuses for why I can't do what I actually know I can do. I mean, in terms of the essay, I can write one. I've written three so far, all almost submittable with some editing (2000 words is a short, short essay for me). The last one I rushed to finish to take to my writing group, three women who are stellar writers themselves and extremely thoughtful editors who know all my tendencies and have heard all my excuses. It was their suggestion that I do the essay when I mentioned I was trying to write about Occupy.

And let me say right here, I know this is one of my things I do: instead of working on the thing I am now on the next level, procrastinating by examining in detail whether or not I should do it at all. And how I should do it, and why. And I tell myself, that as an Occuposter, I have no authority. I've looked at Occupy from across the street while I tried to sell at Tuesday Market...I read about it on Facebook.

Actually I have read an immense number of things about Occupy, so maybe I am a kind of authority, in a limited way. I can synthesize what I have learned, and frame a few opinions, which is after all, what an essay is supposed to be. I can pose any number of my theses and elaborate and conclude. My writing group pointed out that I have about seven essays packed into my 2000 words already.

Part of the problem is the contest itself. The top prize is publication in the magazine, and I have read enough of those over the last ten years to know that mine will not appear there, although I can always see it with the photos and all and imagine that. So probably not the $750 for the top spot for me, but there are ten finalists, and they all get to go to a nonfiction workshop with the judge, who ever that turns out to be. I got to do one with Lauren Kessler, and superb writers have read my submissions, which is kind of exciting. Barry Lopez even read my first one, not that I had the courage to talk to him about it. But I don't want fame...way too scary for my hermit nature.

I'm not even sure I could stand at the podium and read my submission...if I were in the top three, who get to do that. My friend Betsy wisely points that out as a highly developed excuse...I mean, I have actually wondered how I would dress to appear on Oprah and used that as a way to discourage myself. Really?

Also the deadline is Sunday, and as a last-minute editor I have taken my pages over to the building at UO enough times to find out that you can't even get into it on days it is not open, which I assume will be the case unless by some miracle I find it fully finished before five pm today. I could...if I buckle down and do that. I could get it done right now instead of using up my typing energy here and on FB. I should!

I really have to step up my commitment to my goal of being a real, functioning writer. That was the first worksheet I skipped in the book: set your goals and prioritize them and decide how much energy you are willing to spend on them. This is really a 10 to me, I really, really do like to write and to do it well. Getting into a nonfiction workshop could be a wonderful experience. I can still remember how charged up and encouraged I got from the one with Lauren Kessler. Who cares who is the writer involved? I want to go.

I want to write all seven essays, and post them online and further the work of progressive evolution. I want to change the world. I don't really have to go on Oprah, and if I do, I'll bet my sister would lend me an outfit.

Okay, what would be more fun that spending today writing, writing, writing? Nothing else on my list compares. I'm doing it. Maybe I'll win. Maybe I won't. But I will have met my number one goal today, to be a real, functioning writer.