Masochist me
I fretted over the library's last writers' workshop. But I went. It was a miserable experience. I don't do well with writing prompts, especially not while festering fear in front of others. And forget reading aloud whatever prompted scribble did make it on paper. Yeah, a writhing writing experience. So what have I done? I've signed up for another writers' workshop. It's today, 1:00 p.m. to 4:00 p.m. Just shoot me now; put me out of my misery.