A week ago, I submitted The Foster Chronicles (Buffy’s) to my writing workshop for critique. So it was with more than a little agita that I went to class last night. The folks in the class are nice and supportive but frank; if something doesn’t work, they say so.
I needn’t have worried so much. People liked my stuff a lot. In fact, two people said some version of “I don’t read blogs, and I’m not a dog person, so I was skeptical, but I really got into it!”
One guy did say, “As a blog this is fine. For writing to keep someone’s interest or tell a story, it doesn’t work for me.” In his other notes, he kept referring to Buffy as ‘he’, so it’s clear it really didn’t hold his interest.
And there was some confusion. One woman wrote that I shouldn’t underline things so much, not realizing that those things were hyperlinks, and just about everybody put a big question mark next to where I wrote “What is that I don’t even”.
But overall, it was validating, and I got some ideas about how to turn it into a larger piece, even one where I fictionalize it and weave it together with another, totally different, painfuller thing I’ve been going through for the past four months.
Now. All I have to do is do that. No big.
Three years ago, I was figuring out that dogs are pretty much fourth graders.
After failing at Match and OKCupid, I decided eHarmony was worth a shot two years ago. That was dumb.
I did NOT celebrate ANYtober this time last year.
MOAR FUN WITH PHOTOBOOTH:
Happy Retrobruxist Friday, y’all.