Directions for Uninhibited First Draft Writing

1. Plop down in front of your computer and start pounding out words. Who cares if the words sound stupid! If you don’t read them you won’t know they’re stupid.  Besides, stupid today can look like genius tomorrow and yeah, well, it works the other way too. The important thing is NEVER EVER read your fragile virgin words immediately after you’ve let them loose.

Helpful Hint: Pretend that you are a court reporter and your job is to report/type the words you hear in your head. You do hear words, people speaking, that kind of think, don’t you? As a court reporter, YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO CHANGE THE WORDS, NOT EVEN ONE TINY WORD, OR YOU WILL BE FIRED!  Let me be clear. I mean leave the mistakes. Leave the shoddy punctuation. Leave the angry words and the naughty words and the embarrassing grammar.

2. Write until you reach the goal you set for yourself. Hello! You did set a goal, right?  Some writer folk use a time-limit, some like a word count, some a page count.  DON’T set an obnoxiously huge goal that will be impossible to attain. There’s a term for this kind of person. Self-Sabatoger!

DO set a baby goal that you can feel good about cause you will be able to accomplish your goal in 20 minutes, no problem. When you are finished hit save and walk away. Walk away. Walk away.

3. I am of the opinion that uninhibited first draft writing requires a chaser to relieve the stress of  . . . uninhibited first draft writing.  I favor dancing to the funky little tune, ”Get up offa that thing” by James Brown  http://www.youtube.com/embed/0ROzGihgCj8

If you’re going to imitate me, remember, absolutely no editing, no analysis, no mirrors for goodness sake! Just feel the music and move it!

My Middle Name 

 My name is Sharon G. Broyer. In case you don’t figure it out from what I’m about to tell you, the middle initial really stands for “Gullible.” I’m the kind of person who just doesn’t expect people to snow me, which makes it all the easier for them to do it, over and over again…

There was the time my sister-in-law visited us while my husband happened to be sleeping on the couch, sans shoes. “Don’t sit there,” I whispered as she was about to sit in the open spot next to his feet. “His feet really stink.” That night, as I rested my head on my pillow, I noticed an odd odor. Hubby started to chuckle. I had no clue he’d overheard me, and to get his revenge he’d stuffed my pillowcase with his dirty socks. (Two points hubby; Shari-zero, like her I.Q.)

And then there was the trip to Niagara Falls and its attractions, one of which was a wax museum. Outside the entrance was a life-size figure of Frankenstein. Feeling playful, I reached up to stroke his cheek, and said, “Hello there, handsome!” When he stiffly raised his hands and replied, “Hello beautiful, how ‘bout a hug?”I screamed and bolted down the sidewalk. (The bystander with camera gets all the credits, probably on America’s Funniest.)

Once I was called to assist a street fair magician because I looked “like the adventuresome type” (looked like a sucker was more like it). He’d been manipulating scarves and producing flowers, birds, etc. He held a long one up and said, “Don’t get the wrong idea, but I need to stuff this down the front of your shirt. Are you game?” Clueless me, I said, “Yes.” “Now, I want you to put your forehead on mine and look into my eyes while I tell you a joke, and when I’m done, you pull one end of this scarf and I’ll pull the other on the count of three, okay?” “Okay.” The joke was told, the count was given, and the scarf was pulled. The audience roared as a bra popped out, and I reeled in embarrassed astonishment. (Turned out it wasn’t my bra, just one about my size—small—like my brain.)

And the time the scarecrow sitting in a chair outside the home my little grandson and I approached while trick-or-treating got up and opened the door for us, and I screamed bloody murder making my grandson and the guy in the costume laugh (you’d a thunk I’d gotten wise after ole Frankie, but no-o, not this naïve nitwit).

A last example: A musician friend of mine gave a concert and I attended. I felt comfortable enough with him to heckle him playfully from the audience. After zinging him mildly a few times, he decided enough was enough. “Shari,” he said, “did you know ‘gullible’ isn’t in the dictionary?” “It isn’t?” came the automatic response.  ZING! ZING!

So now you know why my middle name really isn’t Gayle.

Shari Broyer has been writing since childhood. Her earliest award: a 1st place trophy for Creative Writing at 8th grade graduation. Formerly: Editor in Chief of KSU Ashtabula’s Kaleidoscope; Facilitator, writers group, Barnes and Noble, High Point, NC; host of Writer’s Digest World’s Largest Writing Workshop; published in various literary anthologies; top 100 winner, Writer’s Digest 2000 competition–Inspirational category, etc. Currently, she facilitates Writers Roundtable at Changing Hands Bookstore in Mesa, AZ. Her goal: #1 New York Times best-selling author. Her first novel, Ether Man, a paranormal romantic comedy, is in simultaneous submission to several agents.  Check her out at:  http://www.fanstory.com/shariannegaylee

It’s official. My writing has been deemed funny.

I’ve been acknowledge as hilarious by someone other than my mom and dad.

I’ve been RECOGNIZED as an author of  humorous words on Google’s # 1  ranked site for humor writers http://www.humorwriters.org – a site which happens to be dedicated to my top female humor hero, Erma Bombeck.

It’s a glorious month for this humor writer. Every morning, I do a little celebration dance and sing myself a little cheer (with pom-poms) that goes like this, “Go Terri, Go Terri, Go Terri . . . .”

Enough about me.  Let’s talk about Erma Bombeck, a pioneer of every day humor.

Erma wrote for homemakers. For those unfamiliar with the term, homemakers are the ancestors of stay-at-home moms.  Back in the day, homemakers sewed clothing for their children and cooked for their families in harvest gold kitchens and cleaned . . . REALLY cleaned, like they got down on their knees and scrubbed the kitchen floor EVERY SINGLE DAY. 

Homemakers hosted tupperware and fondue parties. They played charades and disco danced while shamelessly drinking cheap pink wine during the day. And no one thought anything of it.

But I digress.

Erma Bombeck was all about finding the funny in every day suburban life.  She found humor in housework and children and, of course, my favorite fodder – - husbands.

Erma wrote hundreds of columns and several books with entertaining titles like The Grass is Always Greener Over the Septic Tank and Family — The Ties That Bind . . . and Gag.  Although she has passed on, Erma is still vastly popular today, in fact, an online museum exists in her honor and more than 100.000 people visit it every year. Check it out at  http://www.ermamuseum.org/home.asp

A legacy of laughter is wonderful gift.

Thank you, Erma.