Finding Poetics: The Diner

So I re-wrote a publishable version of The Diner on Monday. It's a short story based on a dream I had about a year or so ago.

You know, I always think of my creative writing classes that I took back in 2008 at California State University- Northridge. I had a wonderful teacher that taught me to look at my writing from outside any and all parameters that I was used to. It unlocked my mind and really turned me on my head when it came to writing, which, she said, was what her goal was. To this day, I crave her crazy writing prompts, as they forced my mind to open old, lost doors and create all new ones.

One other thing that she taught her class was to never write dream sequences; to never write anything that came from a dream or resembled a dream because they never worked and were never conveyed properly. They were always filler and never accomplished anything amazing.

There is one of many things I've learned in life (not just in writing): Don't always listen to your teachers.

*gasp* Did I actually just say that? Don't listen to the teacher? Isn't that wrong? Well, no.

In my writing, I choose to utilize my dreams as inspiration, sometimes making it part of my stories because, well, that's where they came from. Now, all of my stories change over time and by the final product, there is no true element of a dream sequence in them. So technically, I'm following part of her advice. However, that's how they begin. And I'm not ashamed to keep it there until I'm ready to let it go, if I feel it's important to let go.

I feel, for me, that the best stories feel like dreams, though they aren't openly mentioned. That's how I received my inspiration, so that's how I feel the delivery of the story should be.

If it doesn't work, I pray someone will tell me so that I can fix it, but until that day, I have found that sometimes what works for some people, particularly in creative fields, doesn't necessarily work for others.

This works for me.

Almost every one of my greatest stories is based on a dream I've had at some point in my life. My dreams are so vivid and so free of my own stresses and self-defeatings that my best ideas come from my subconscious. I can't not write about them.

My current novel ultimately stems from a dream I had back in 2010 in which I explored galaxies and saw the birth of stars and planets and all manner of beauties that still make my gut tighten in that glorified terror of witnessing something that no one else will encounter unless I write about it. Once I finish it, I'll give you more details.

Until then, I figured I should leave you with a little something, so here are the first three paragraphs of The Diner:

The diner was quite welcoming in its own way. The linoleum was years old and well worn, the lighting was yellow and old-fashioned, but the air was warm and smelled of fresh baked bread and pie, the booths were comfortable without the plastic crinkle sound you usually heard, and the menus were those red plastic covered bi-folds that reminded me of the first time I ever recalled going out to a restaurant with my family.

All those years ago and all I could recall about the experience was the comfort, the peace, and looking at the plastic covered bi-fold menus while my feet swung back and forth, dangling from the booth.

Something felt so familiar about this place, though I knew I had never been here before. This was just a stop off to my final destination. It takes a long time to travel across country, let alone the journey I was making today.

I wish I could leave you with more, but I feel that my bed is calling me. That, and I want to bask in a little more of The Piano Guys before bed. I went to their concert tonight. It was fabulous, and I cannot wait to go to another and bring my girls. Seriously, if you don't know them, go find them on youtube.com. They are so inspiring to me.