GETTING READY FOR CLASS

I better get ready. For class.

No, I haven’t gone back to school. I’m gonna be the teacher again.

Me. A teacher. Never thought that would happen, me and school never getting on so good and all . . .

Turns out I’m not too bad at it. In all these decades I’ve been a writer, I’ve learned a few things, and people are willing to pay to hear it.

Granted, it meant I had to stop and think about it. I don’t like to think about it. If I was the type to make a list of rules I’d start with “Don’t think about it–do it.” I don’t care for talking about writing, but will do it for money.

There are people for whom talking about writing is their idea of a good time. I try to avoid them and wonder if their writing is as boring as their yacking.

Same for those who want to talk about creativity, and ways to get in the mood. I’m always in the mood. My dangerously overactive imagination grinds away all day and night all the time. Why do you think I became a writer?

I have a file of notes of things to bring up, and I’m going over them, making changes and additions. People have asked me to publish these notes, but they’d make pretty lousy reading. They really are just a bunch of notes. I put them in order to give me things to talk about during each day of the class, and to use if the students (me having students . . . still sounds weird) run out of things to say.

It would be great if they were a lively bunch, and we spent the whole time throwing around ideas and experiences, inspiring each other, y’know, being creative . . .

Sometimes I change my mind about things. Rules come, and go, for reasons. I like to break them now and then to see if they still apply. I break my own rules, to keep myself on my toes, and to weed out the clichés that people say in creative writing classes because they're just are too lazy to come up with real advice.

That’s pretty good. I should put it in the notes . . .

If I go over it, and think (ugh!) about it, my confidence will cancel my imposter syndrome, and I’ll be able to seem enough like a teacher to make the students feel they got their money’s worth.

I’ve never had imposter syndrome about being a writer, or an artist. Throw me into just about any kind of creative activity–even if I’ve no training or background in it–and I’ll come up with something, even if it’s making a fool of myself.

People like it when I make a fool of myself. It's good not to take yourself too seriously. That could be a rule . . .

But I’m uncomfortable being a teacher. I’ve also felt it as a janitor, housekeeper, and a bookstore clerk, though I got good enough at that so when it came time to become a library worker (NOT a librarian, I do the grunt work) I could slip into that role. 

Maybe I’ll be doing more of this in my old age. If the price is right.