So as I see it, in this world, you are either a producer or a consumer.

Obviously, everyone does both to a certain extent, just as everyone is probably a little gay, but in the end, you lean mostly one way or the other. You're either adding to society or taking from it (and having children doesn't count cuz you're just as likely to raise a bunch of consuming monsters as you are the next Leonardo da Vinci).

Me, I've been a consumer my whole life.  Nothing wrong with that, per se. It's not as noble as producing something of value, but just like the famous need the fawning, the world needs consumers, too. And I'm damn good at it. Books, movies, TV shows, cars, food, music, computers, skyscrapers, video games - I gulp and chow them down like no one's business.

But before I go, I wouldn't mind evening out the scales a little bit, adding a little producing yin to go with my consuming yang. Leave my mark on the world, so to speak.

Alas, writing may be the only skill (such as it is) I possess that will allow me to do that, so starting this blog to get back into the habit of writing was step one in what I hoped would be a committed attempt to do some honest-to-god producing.

And it was with a similar intention that I enrolled last month in a fiction writing course. I was a bit skeptical that it would be a) good or b) helpful, but my first class was Thursday night, and I have to say I was pleasantly surprised.

When I first realized who the teacher was, I feared for the worst. He looked like a kid (am I that old that I'm now using this phrase in a negative manner??). He may have rambled a bit at times, but overall he was poised, funny, intelligent, knowledgeable, and his thoughts were organized, his initial lessons insightful.

That's not to say I've discarded all reservations. It's clear a lot of the value from the class will come through sharing work with other students and hearing their critiques, and I'm not quite sure how well that's going to go.

The students are certainly a motley bunch, just the kind of people you'd expect to encounter in a relatively inexpensive adult writing class. You have the one-time teacher pets who love hearing the sound of their own voice and can't stop interrupting (or wait, was that me?). You have those wannabe professional critics who love expressing their displeasure at a piece of literature even when that's not the point of the exercise. And you have those people who just seem a bit off, in a way you can't exactly place, but that you worry may involve an extensive criminal record highlighted by repeated stalking convictions. But now I'm being glib and obnoxious. I actually liked most everyone, and I'm excited to see how the class goes.

My favorite part of the class were the two writing exercises. Both times after the teacher gave us our assignment, I totally panicked, worried that I wouldn't think of anything to write in the allotted 10 minutes. But eventually the words started flowing, and I ended up fairly proud of the results, especially given the time constraints. It was the first time in a long time that I could see myself taking this journey somewhere interesting.

This little rush of confidence will surely fade, but all I know is that for a while, I was doing some honest-to-god producing ... and it felt pretty good.

P.S. I was too shy to share the work in class, so I figure I'll give myself a blog-writing break and post the exercises this weekend on the site. Here's exercise #1 and here's exercise #2.