Facing a fear

This weekend, I did something that always filled me with great fear and dread in the past: I got my car inspected. (Even fictional characters have to obey the law.)

During my fictional undergrad, I had several cars. They were very old, and they were not in good condition. Inspection time for me was a time of being roasted over the coals of inadequacy. My cars never passed the first time--and usually not the second or third, either. I would have so much anxiety over this yearly activity that I would offer to pay people to bring my car in for me. I would sweat and shake and pray. Then, the mechanic would tell me why it failed, and I would have to do it all again in a week.

I remember having to replace a muffler, and since I didn't have the money to have it done, I had to do it myself. Some people are good at that, but not fictional writing coaches. I was crawling under the car, getting covered in pine needles, trying to figure out what a muffler was and how it gets replaced. Even after I accomplished it, it still failed inspection twice. It was a time of weeping and wailing. Thankfully, grace has washed most of the memory away.

However, this weekend was different. You see, I have a newer fictional car. It is only about 3 fictional years old. I brought it in to the fictional dealer, and I worked on my fictional laptop while I waited. This time, there was almost no fear. This new emotional state was due to one thing: I knew that my car was in good shape. Thus, I didn't have to worry, fret, and pace the floor. (I did have to wait almost 2 hours, though. Even fictional mechanics can be slow.) My car passed inspection. I went on my way, thinking about nothing except whether I wanted to go to McDonalds or go home and have a hot dog.

Writing is very similar in some respects. I used to have a lot of fear when I turned papers in to professors. Part of this was because I was never sure of what the professor was looking for in it. However, some of it was because I didn't know if the paper was that good. Actually, I shouldn't limit it to papers . . . it counts for any assignment. I would stress when I was trying to decide what to do. I would stress when I was putting off starting it. I would stress when I finally started it much later than I should have done. I would stress while I was trying to put thoughts together. I would stress when I was typing it up. By the time I had finished the first draft, I would be so emotionally exhausted that I didn't want to proofread it. Then, after turning it in, I would stress until I got it back. It was not fun.

Then, I spent an entire semester working on my writing skills. I learned how to use my style manual and what a paper should look like. I proofread every sentence to make sure I was using the rules of subordination and coordination correctly, and I checked the punctuation chart for commas, semicolons, and dashes. When I wrote a paper, I would read the first line of every paragraph to see if they fit together to form an outline my paper. I revised my assignments to make sure that I stayed on topic and that it made sense.

After this semester, I noticed something. I suddenly didn't have to proofread my sentences for coordination or subordination because I was recognizing the rules as I wrote the sentences. I remembered the punctuation rules while I typed, and I had a feel for what construction would work best. I spent four months forcing myself to do it, but it became part of my writing.

Now, I rarely have to worry about those things in my writing. Now, I just worry about wording, spelling, and typos. It really is worth the trouble to get in shape.