So, uh, last Monday I missed creative writing class 'cause of cramps. Wish I didn't. Since it meets only once a week, one missed class is a lot. I'm nervous about the writing class; he doesn't want anything autobiographical. I don't think I've ever made anything up from scratch. Eeee. Uhhhhh. Not sure I even know how to do it. A coupla weeks ago we read aloud a short story about a teenaged guy and his sister's Barbie. Holy crap, it was so profane it made me bark laughter. I'll have to go look up the title and author so that if you're interested you can look it up.
Anyway, my feelings of inadequacy are rising in regards to this fiction class. That usually spells doom for me. Lower your standards and plow forward, is what I'm trying to tell myself.
posted by Newpeep, N.D. (neurotic depressive) @ 6:28 PM
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