Classes start!
My classes started last night.
My class, on wednesday nights, for 3 hours, is fiction writing. Marion and I are taking that class together...pretty much because I registered late and nothing better was open. Here are my impressions:
I like the prof. He looks and sounds like he walked out of an adventure novel. Like and aged indiana jones. He's got a leathery face, with smiling eyes, and an outdoorsy sort of look. He's got sandy blonde hair touched with gray at the temples, and he wore jeans and a maroon sweater. His name is David McGrath...of course the anthology of short stories he wrote is required reading...
Aparently, the object of this class is to write a "marketable" short story. I almost feel like I'm in over my head, since what I write is mostly confused bits of poetry on scraps of paper and rather unnecessarily descriptive sketches. It seems that most people that take the class are aspiring novelists who want feedback on thier work.
But that's ok, I'm in a classroom again and that's all that matters. Marion is thrilled. He can't wait to start his story. It's adorable. I could feel the little tremors of invisible excitement running through him throughout the class. That makes it completely worth it. I hope he does a hell of alot better than I do...but I'm sure he will.
Solace found me for a bit last night. I talked with marion for a good while about nothing with my head in his lap. I could feel alot of the tension leave me, and I was FINALLY able to sleep for more than a couple hours.
I meet with my pastor tomorrow to discuss...well, everything.
I'm nervous.
My class, on wednesday nights, for 3 hours, is fiction writing. Marion and I are taking that class together...pretty much because I registered late and nothing better was open. Here are my impressions:
I like the prof. He looks and sounds like he walked out of an adventure novel. Like and aged indiana jones. He's got a leathery face, with smiling eyes, and an outdoorsy sort of look. He's got sandy blonde hair touched with gray at the temples, and he wore jeans and a maroon sweater. His name is David McGrath...of course the anthology of short stories he wrote is required reading...
Aparently, the object of this class is to write a "marketable" short story. I almost feel like I'm in over my head, since what I write is mostly confused bits of poetry on scraps of paper and rather unnecessarily descriptive sketches. It seems that most people that take the class are aspiring novelists who want feedback on thier work.
But that's ok, I'm in a classroom again and that's all that matters. Marion is thrilled. He can't wait to start his story. It's adorable. I could feel the little tremors of invisible excitement running through him throughout the class. That makes it completely worth it. I hope he does a hell of alot better than I do...but I'm sure he will.
Solace found me for a bit last night. I talked with marion for a good while about nothing with my head in his lap. I could feel alot of the tension leave me, and I was FINALLY able to sleep for more than a couple hours.
I meet with my pastor tomorrow to discuss...well, everything.
I'm nervous.