I did not sign up for a workshop. I came in with my notebooks, one of the few, the very very few, in the library space without a laptop computer. I wrote in my notebook, planning what to write for the day. When I got tired of that, I worked on a short script. When I got tired of that, I worked on a short essay. When I got tired of that, I went back to my notebook to “free write.”
What is a “free write”? I like to think of it as a form of literary throat-clearing, or perhaps vocal exercises. Here is an example from that day:
Everyone has a laptop but me. Is anything else actually “writing”? Wait, she has a pen in her hand, so does he, and so does that woman behind me. But that’s all. Should I get a laptop? Just one more thing to lug around, though, and do I need another keyboard in my life? Look, that woman is surfing Google, she’s not writing, although I wish I had internet access for just a sec, I could look up “illness other than cholera which arises from contaminated water,” although I think I’ll just give her malaria. Can I call her Maritzka? Or is that just ridiculously character-y? Melanie? Is anyone named Melanie anymore?
So you see, that’s why it stays in the free-write notebook.
By the end of the day, I had a first draft of a short script, “Grandparents: The Director’s Cut.” I had made considerable headway on a short essay called “Dear Me,” which is a letter to my 14-year-old self and hence quite tragic. I had a very sore hand.
And thanks to my sponsors -- Cecily, Mayte, Brian, Leo, Linda, Deborah, Terry, Kevin, Michael and Jody -- I had raised $410 for the New York Writers Coalition.
The top fundraiser was this girl
Thanks to all of you!
Labels: free writing, General Society of Mechanics and Tradesmen, New York Writers Coalition, Write-a-Thon
Elizabeth Bales Frank

