on getting anything...
Sunday, Sunday, Sunday...
I have a fair amount of work to do this afternoon. First of all, and most importantly, my second submission to the fiction workshop is due Wednesday evening. Not surprisingly, the writing has been slow-going, and the fact that yesterday's extended hangover prevented me from getting anything done didn't really help in that department. As it stands, I've got about six completed sections, and the way I've visualized the story in my mind indicates that I can wrap it up in about three more. Hopefully this can be accomplished over the course of four hours at the coffee shop, but I won't know until I sit down and begin working. The piece is currently sans title, something that usually correlates with a difficulty in writing. It's strange to think that a mere title alone can aid my process, but I've found that having a good one in mind never fails to keep the narrative moving in the right direction. Aside from the always-difficult and soul-crushing creative deadlines that I'm facing, I'm also supposed to present some examples of writing exercises in in my teaching class. Luckily, this task, like the others that have been assigned to me, is a mindless one and will require little to no actual work. Hooray for grad school.
Last week, during an MFA meeting, we were given our Fall teaching assignments. My class, section 22 of English 1101, will be held on Tuesday and Thursday evenings from 5:30-6:45. Though I'm a little annoyed by drawing a night class, I can't help but get excited when I think that I'll be responsible for my own class and my own little troupe of college kiddies in a matter of months. I'm pretty nervous about the whole idea of teaching, but I know it'll be fine. We've been given virtually no information on how we should go about teaching, but I'm beginning to appreciate the idea that I'll figure things out for myself as I go.
The workshop of "A SIngle Perfect Soul" went better than any other that I've experienced in grad school. Everyone really liked it. My teacher actually spent a few minutes saying that, with some revision, she was confident that it would be published. Of course, only time will tell. But I think I'll send this one out. Anyway, it was encouraging to hear.
I feel like the moment I sit down to write a journal entry, my mind immediately goes blank and I have little to say. So it goes. Oh well, at least this entry, unlike my previous one in which I made myself out to be a paranoid alcoholic, is somewhat upbeat, if lacking in any real substance.
That's all.
I have a fair amount of work to do this afternoon. First of all, and most importantly, my second submission to the fiction workshop is due Wednesday evening. Not surprisingly, the writing has been slow-going, and the fact that yesterday's extended hangover prevented me from getting anything done didn't really help in that department. As it stands, I've got about six completed sections, and the way I've visualized the story in my mind indicates that I can wrap it up in about three more. Hopefully this can be accomplished over the course of four hours at the coffee shop, but I won't know until I sit down and begin working. The piece is currently sans title, something that usually correlates with a difficulty in writing. It's strange to think that a mere title alone can aid my process, but I've found that having a good one in mind never fails to keep the narrative moving in the right direction. Aside from the always-difficult and soul-crushing creative deadlines that I'm facing, I'm also supposed to present some examples of writing exercises in in my teaching class. Luckily, this task, like the others that have been assigned to me, is a mindless one and will require little to no actual work. Hooray for grad school.
Last week, during an MFA meeting, we were given our Fall teaching assignments. My class, section 22 of English 1101, will be held on Tuesday and Thursday evenings from 5:30-6:45. Though I'm a little annoyed by drawing a night class, I can't help but get excited when I think that I'll be responsible for my own class and my own little troupe of college kiddies in a matter of months. I'm pretty nervous about the whole idea of teaching, but I know it'll be fine. We've been given virtually no information on how we should go about teaching, but I'm beginning to appreciate the idea that I'll figure things out for myself as I go.
The workshop of "A SIngle Perfect Soul" went better than any other that I've experienced in grad school. Everyone really liked it. My teacher actually spent a few minutes saying that, with some revision, she was confident that it would be published. Of course, only time will tell. But I think I'll send this one out. Anyway, it was encouraging to hear.
I feel like the moment I sit down to write a journal entry, my mind immediately goes blank and I have little to say. So it goes. Oh well, at least this entry, unlike my previous one in which I made myself out to be a paranoid alcoholic, is somewhat upbeat, if lacking in any real substance.
That's all.