I’m not ready yet to do a review of the Wesleyan conference, but I am learning some things and have been forced to write a bit via assignments–something I’ve never been good at on a "start NOW!" basis in a classroom setting. But we’ve had overnights to prepare, and with a bit of luck, the opening line will come before I’ve turned the key in the ignition to head back in. This morning, I’d all but given up–why write crap at all, which is what I end up with if I try to write about something I’m told to write about–when it hit, and I unpacked the laptop to get it down and print it out as fast as the words came to me.
The consultation was all right, it gave me some ideas on the three stories I submitted, but nothing concrete on my style. I had a hard time convincing, and I know he still doesn’t believe me that the stories were non-fiction–them, he believed, even down to a couple of non-existent kids. Can’t imagine what he thinks of my friend Few, the garbage heap.
But tomorrow is another day and a very full one. I’m still going to all three classes, and the rest of the day will be listening to publishers, agents, etc., and Sally (who is not really a girly-girl, honest) has coerced me into following her in student readings. I’m not sure what I’ll read yet, so I need to sort through my stuff and do some picking and editing. Maybe, "Reflections in Imagery" which has had the best response so far, and may come within the three-minute max with the least cutting.
It’s been a very busy and contemplative week. I probably won’t appreciate it all until I’m back in my frame shop and worrying over my next Nutrition exam this weekend.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology