I have started a writing class on plot and structure because it scares the hell out of me. Wistful descriptions of the rain and snarky social commentary peppered with moderately well-researched facts, no problem. But plot, real plot? As in, the characters actually have to DO something? I find myself staring blankly at the page.
It is very scary to take a class in something you are not good at, especially if you are the sort of person who color codes her notebooks and takes an A- as evidence of your unworthiness to continue engaging with human society. Though, I would like to point out that I’m not a stereotypical type A, I’m a type B who figured out that type As tend to get ahead so I channeled all of my anxiety in imitating type As until I could pass. The plan backfired, now I just color-code notebooks, then lose them when I’m daydreaming on public transportation. I was also born on the cusp of Sagitarrius and Scorpio. Right smack in the middle. Which goes to show that all categories are negotiable. As are rules about plots, I’m discovering.
Other things that are negotiable? Eggs and oils in cakes. I’ve been experimenting with lower calorie but still delicious cake recipes to take to parties this fall. My new hack is substituting canned pumpkin for eggs and oil in a box spice cake mix, and adding more spices. Apparently, you can also use seltzer water, low-fat greek yogurt, and applesauce. My friends need to throw more parties so I can do more cake experiments.
While I waited for the spice cake to bake I submitted a creative non-fiction piece to one of my favorite online literary magazines, the Rumpus. It is slowly becoming less intimidating.
Other highlights of the past two weeks: seeing a real live organist accompany a movie, showing my parents my workplace and my new neighborhood, attempting cook tempeh on my own for the first time, reading three new books, trying a new hairstyle, and finishing a draft of a short story for my plot and structure class.