In a mere thirty-five minutes, I begin a creative-writing class, a follow-up to the one I took last summer. Percy Bysshe Shelley (no, not that one, this one) has his reason for being, since I got him too late to really be useful for couch composing/napping.
I'm hoping to get help with structure, because I find it supremely unhelpful to be told that only I know how to tell my story. Hmmm, possibly a nonfiction course would have been a better deal...
Anyway, wish me luck among the whippersnappers! I only hope the dinner roll I'm toting (stomach upset) and ginger ale (same) don't mark me as a freak--akin to someone who might pull out a pickle and a bottle of ketchup for a snack.
7 comments:
We await your masterpieces.
It's all about the process, dude, it's all about the process.
And I get to dust off my Norton Anthology of Short Fiction! I knew there was a reason I didn't sell that thing back.
Crap. That might not work. I have a fourth edition, and they're up to the seventh.
Sigh. The slow, steady march of time.
I know the politics editor at Norton, so if you want me to scam a copy off him, let me know.
Dude, are you serious? Because if so, sign me up. We're not up to that reading for a while yet, I think.
I'd pay for shipping. ; - )
I also did my victory dance on the Metamorphosis announcement, before I realized that, um, there are different translations. This guy is trying to render my undergrad book accumulation useless.
good luck, and may genius strike.
oi, the norton. i think i just recently shed my last copy of that brick. can they make those pages any thinner?
may i suggest "zgrga" as your nom de plume?
Brick indeed. The poetry one I mainly keep around as a weight, most recently for decoupaging. Also useful for flower pressing, poster flattening, tofu pressing, and 101 other household uses!
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