First, the rock walls, then the world shall be conquered! *crickets*
I'm taking a day off from le writing today. Still haven't even typed up what I wrote yesterday-- so far, writing by hand and then transcribing seems to be working well for my process. I get intimidated by the word processor. When I type up something I've written down in my loopy cursive, it almost always ends up being more writing than I thought it would be. When I'm typing it on Word, it never seems to be enough.
I've reached a place in the writing where I feel like I need to do some character work and some plot work (i.e. figure out who exactly my characters are and what the hell they're doing in this story). I think I'm different from other authors in this way. From what I've read, most authors revel in the pre-writing process: coming up with the people, figuring out what they're doing and why and how it should turn out. The writing itself is the hard part. I am the exact opposite. If I could write a whole book without ever having to do pre-writing work, I would. It's the writing itself that's cathartic. Pre-writing work just brings out the ugliest parts of my neurotic perfectionistic personality and makes me crazy because nothing ever feels complete or good enough or whatever.
So I'm stalling. It's Memorial Day weekend, for God's sake. I'm allowed a break.
So today I went to our local rock-climbing gym (which is like six kinds of awesome btdubs) and did an open climb with one of the staff members on belay for me. She was uber-nice, friendly, and informative and she put me on three of the tall walls. It is officially confirmed: my fear of heights is 98% gone. That zip line was very effective in knocking the sheer terror right out of me back in 2007, and I would recommend that method for anyone with a fear of heights who doesn't mind hyperventilating and almost peeing their pants in front of about 30 people. What's even better, you get over any fears of public humiliation real quick because that's about as embarrassing as it gets, clinging to ropes and things as you're walking across a wire on spinning wooden beads, held up only by a harness, whimpering in fright. BEST DAY EVER! More effective than spelunking on my claustrophobia, I will give it that.
Through sheer perseverance and power of will (and more upper body strength than I thought I possessed), I made it to the top of all three walls in a matter of about 30 minutes. Not too shabby (though what reference point do I have? None). Of course, I wasn't, as they say among the initiated, "on route," which is to say, following the pre-plotted routes that only allow you certain hand and footholds the entire way up. I just wanted to get up the wall. And I did. I did fall three, maybe four, times. But I got back on the wall and kept going. Yay me. It's not exactly easy to climb in Chucks either. I will remember that the next time I decide to be cheap. It explains why the cute, flirty guy at the counter was such a wise-ass about my nonchalant "Nah" when he offered a climbing shoe rental. Durrr, Ashley. Listen to the cute climbing boys. They know their stuff. And they WILL laugh as you slip off that narrow foothold six feet from the top of the wall.
Conclusion: my forearms hurt like fuck, the rocks sloughed the first layer of skin off my hands and now they're bright red and sweaty, and I am stronger than I thought, but I have a long way to go before I can be considered anything other than the lowest of the uninitiated novices. But I liked it. I think I'm gonna take the intro to climbing course and learn how to TIE MY KNOTS.
Yay for trying new things, meeting new people, cute guys, and something I'm kinda good at without having to have practiced forever and ever and ever!
Also, note to self for next time: remember what Jenna told you about footwork. It makes life much easier.
ON TO KILIMANJARO. That is my new life goal. Realistic? Probably not. But my rock climbing gym runs an expedition to Kilimanjaro every summer, and how fucking awesome would it be to be able to say I climbed Mt. Kilimanjaro?! ONWARD TO THE GREAT TASMANIAN MOUNTAIN.
Okay, I'm done now. I promise.
I've reached a place in the writing where I feel like I need to do some character work and some plot work (i.e. figure out who exactly my characters are and what the hell they're doing in this story). I think I'm different from other authors in this way. From what I've read, most authors revel in the pre-writing process: coming up with the people, figuring out what they're doing and why and how it should turn out. The writing itself is the hard part. I am the exact opposite. If I could write a whole book without ever having to do pre-writing work, I would. It's the writing itself that's cathartic. Pre-writing work just brings out the ugliest parts of my neurotic perfectionistic personality and makes me crazy because nothing ever feels complete or good enough or whatever.
So I'm stalling. It's Memorial Day weekend, for God's sake. I'm allowed a break.
So today I went to our local rock-climbing gym (which is like six kinds of awesome btdubs) and did an open climb with one of the staff members on belay for me. She was uber-nice, friendly, and informative and she put me on three of the tall walls. It is officially confirmed: my fear of heights is 98% gone. That zip line was very effective in knocking the sheer terror right out of me back in 2007, and I would recommend that method for anyone with a fear of heights who doesn't mind hyperventilating and almost peeing their pants in front of about 30 people. What's even better, you get over any fears of public humiliation real quick because that's about as embarrassing as it gets, clinging to ropes and things as you're walking across a wire on spinning wooden beads, held up only by a harness, whimpering in fright. BEST DAY EVER! More effective than spelunking on my claustrophobia, I will give it that.
Through sheer perseverance and power of will (and more upper body strength than I thought I possessed), I made it to the top of all three walls in a matter of about 30 minutes. Not too shabby (though what reference point do I have? None). Of course, I wasn't, as they say among the initiated, "on route," which is to say, following the pre-plotted routes that only allow you certain hand and footholds the entire way up. I just wanted to get up the wall. And I did. I did fall three, maybe four, times. But I got back on the wall and kept going. Yay me. It's not exactly easy to climb in Chucks either. I will remember that the next time I decide to be cheap. It explains why the cute, flirty guy at the counter was such a wise-ass about my nonchalant "Nah" when he offered a climbing shoe rental. Durrr, Ashley. Listen to the cute climbing boys. They know their stuff. And they WILL laugh as you slip off that narrow foothold six feet from the top of the wall.
Conclusion: my forearms hurt like fuck, the rocks sloughed the first layer of skin off my hands and now they're bright red and sweaty, and I am stronger than I thought, but I have a long way to go before I can be considered anything other than the lowest of the uninitiated novices. But I liked it. I think I'm gonna take the intro to climbing course and learn how to TIE MY KNOTS.
Yay for trying new things, meeting new people, cute guys, and something I'm kinda good at without having to have practiced forever and ever and ever!
Also, note to self for next time: remember what Jenna told you about footwork. It makes life much easier.
ON TO KILIMANJARO. That is my new life goal. Realistic? Probably not. But my rock climbing gym runs an expedition to Kilimanjaro every summer, and how fucking awesome would it be to be able to say I climbed Mt. Kilimanjaro?! ONWARD TO THE GREAT TASMANIAN MOUNTAIN.
Okay, I'm done now. I promise.