The Writing Experiment

For fun, or something, I'm doing this writing experiment with a nice man from San Francisco who I met for about 30 minutes at a book store. He's a good guy, a tech writer, with ambition to write a non-fiction book about life on mars and, if I remember correctly, another non-fiction about skywatchers awaiting abduction. Maybe that's just what I want him to write about. And maybe he could dress it up a bit if the people aren't really queuing up for their turn on the probe machine. I suddenly wonder if he's getting anything out of our experiment.

Well, this is what we do. Every day, we each write 500 words of nonsense and email it out without editing (obviously not a problem for me) and without review (again, I'm in the clear). Since he's a technical writer who actually gets paid for his work, I have the impression that the free write is difficult for him, and I imagine that his fingers flinch as he types himself into a corner without his Strunk and White. Not I! I'm just doing it because it seemed fun to email with some tech writer who wants to write non-fiction about aliens. Count me in.

We are now approaching Day 5 of a 14 day plan. Part of the deal requires that we each read and highlight those sentences, phrases or words that catch our attention. We weren't supposed to comment at all, but I can never hold my tongue and I blew that rule immediately. Our agreement does require only nice or positive comments, and I am finding that this makes for an automatic friendship. I like this email pal. In just four days, I sense that he's learned to trust that he can break out of his protective high tech shell. I've learned some stuff about his family and a little bit about his frustrations. Here's the funny part: while I'm usually the effusive one, I decided to try out some ideas in these quick, chaotic and messy blurbs. I have surprised myself by following a linear process of story-making that makes my pal's writing seem so much more, well, irregular. Hmm. What's going on here?

So, I am going to take it as a good thing because my personal surroundings and my general routine require neither linear thought nor precision. And someday, I may have to do something that wants a logical end to a credible beginning.

Finally, please, no worrying. It really is a writing game suggested by a teacher and this guy was a part of a class I took at a local bookstore and he scared me less than some of the other older people who wanted to publish their life stories but first force them on youngish eyes now that they thought they were just about done with them. Their lives, I mean. I guess their stories too. I'm such a bitch.