shakespearemom

I took my children to a newly constructed ramp in the snow yesterday. One of my good friends here, rather than using a snow shovel to shovel out his driveway, chose, instead to leave his drive alone, but to construct a 3 1/2 foot high slide (smart man). You see, even though my world is covered with about 2 feet of packed snow right now, I also live in a flat area, an area of town which 15 years ago was nothing but strawberry fields. Thus, even with all this delicious snow, I have nowhere to sled. 

My son was a natural, climbing up to the top of the sled ramp–a dangerous feat even for a kid twice his age–and taking off with abandon. My daughter was infinitely more cautious. And I believe I was more cautious than both of them put together. But after a few tries, we all took to the new situation fine. 

Yet in our real lives, how well do we follow that example? I cannot tell you how many times I have turned down an opportunity to try something new. But I also can’t tell you how many times I HAVE tried something, and discovered a whole new world I’d never imagined. 

Believe me, some attempts didn’t go so well. I tried out skiing several years ago, and, frankly, I detested it. I intend NEVER to go out skiing again. I like snow in hour-long spurts at most, and the only thing worse than falling on one’s rear end and not being able to get up again without help is that day Flit describes, where she spends the whole day waiting. I cannot possibly express the depth to which skiing repulses me. 

At the same time, with my writing, I’ve taken all sorts of chances. Even blogging was a stretch for me. Though I teach essay writing, I don’t write creative nonfiction all that often. But my fiction writing blends well into all of this, and I find that, not only do I never run out of topics, but I usually feel pretty good about each day’s finished product. 

Writing a novel involves taking a huge chance, and spending months and months on that chance. I spent a year researching and writing a book on ghosts, hoping it would someday make a little money, and it has… but that was a huge risk of both time and money. And it isn’t just writing. I have an episode in my current novel where my protagonist learns to ride a motorcycle. So, guess what? I have to do the same thing. And as soon as this snow melts… I’m going for a few rides. Just the thought of it gives me the heebie-jeebies, but I’m still going to do it.

I gave an assignment to a writers group once: I told them to write something in a genre they would never in their wildest dreams have attempted. Some people wrote poems for the first time in their lives, I tried out romance (Bleccchhh!), but one brilliant writer wrote what he called a “zombie screenplay,” fashioned after some sort of cross between Night of the Living Dead and Creature from the Black Lagoon. 

We read the screenplay as a group one night. It was scary. It involved a lot of zombie moaning. It was absolutely hilarious. And none of us knew Matt had it in him to write something like that. Including Matt.

So, what might you try? What have you always considered beyond you? Could you, perhaps, spend just one day on it, or even an hour, and see how it suits you? Might you try poetry for once, or YA, or horror? Playing piano, tennis, or raquetball? Don’t worry about falling flat on your face, getting snow up your nose, or getting a stomach ache from the nerves. Just try it. 

You might like it.

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