I'm taking yet another writing class; two at once!
I have lots of blog notes scribbled in a yellow note pad that stays folded up in my purse, but I rarely get around to posting them because I'm doing homework a lot of the time. But today I say screw homework! I'm gonna do some blog work! These posts may not be as fresh as the day I thought of them, but I miss posting.
Also, I need a break from my personal essay class cohorts. My social anxiety apparently extends to the eclass, because I worry that I've already overstepped my constructive criticism boundaries with my classmates. Of 18 people in the class, I seem to be the only one who offered suggestions for the way other's essays could be improved. I got no such helpful comments from my classmates. Everyone is chatting amiably about their lives and how touching each other's essay is. It's all very nice. And I have no desire to join in.
I also think I may have scared off a potential writing group buddy. I read in an advice column of a Chicago woman who last year got her graduate degree in writing, but since then couldn't build up the impetus to write. She was scared of putting herself out there. The columnist gave her great advice: don't be scared of the poor output that will inevitably come, just write every day; find a group of writers you can share your worst and best writing with, etc. I wrote the columnist to say, hey, I'm a Chicago writer in the same boat, can you forward this on to Chicago woman and see if she wants to start a critique group? Only I tried really hard to be witty and charming and charasmatic in my email to him/her. He did, and she did, but after one follow-up email from me, she disappeared from the face of the planet. Methinks I scared her off with my childish enthusiasm. Sigh. I'm not taking it to heart like I would've in the past, but I'm disappointed when people don't accept my sometimes puppy-dog like advances.
I feel like the android in the corner. I feel like the puppydog in the laundry room.
Either way, now I've got some space to myself, so I might as well do some blogging. *Shrug* Guess that's just the way I roll.
I also think I may have scared off a potential writing group buddy. I read in an advice column of a Chicago woman who last year got her graduate degree in writing, but since then couldn't build up the impetus to write. She was scared of putting herself out there. The columnist gave her great advice: don't be scared of the poor output that will inevitably come, just write every day; find a group of writers you can share your worst and best writing with, etc. I wrote the columnist to say, hey, I'm a Chicago writer in the same boat, can you forward this on to Chicago woman and see if she wants to start a critique group? Only I tried really hard to be witty and charming and charasmatic in my email to him/her. He did, and she did, but after one follow-up email from me, she disappeared from the face of the planet. Methinks I scared her off with my childish enthusiasm. Sigh. I'm not taking it to heart like I would've in the past, but I'm disappointed when people don't accept my sometimes puppy-dog like advances.
I feel like the android in the corner. I feel like the puppydog in the laundry room.
Either way, now I've got some space to myself, so I might as well do some blogging. *Shrug* Guess that's just the way I roll.
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