My Shakespeare Fails Me

This will probably be a quick post but I had to give you an update about the writing class.  Call me a nerd but anything that I try to do I want to do better if I’m committed to it.  I’ve expanded my swim wardrobe over the course of eight months of lessons, invested in swim caps and goggles for example.  I bought a thicker yoga pad so my giant ass would be more comfortable on it during class than the ones they were providing.  But while I’ve been writing, off and on, most of my life I have never done much to improve my creative writing.  I still struggle to write when I’m not inspired to–either due to anger or lust or sadness.  I can give you heat but not always motivation.  I an give you depth of emotion but not always the why would you do that.  I knew that on one level but taking Rachel Kramer Bussel’s writing class through made me more aware of it and how it would really just take a few little tweaks sometimes to give you what is missing.  I was also able to see different people take the same theme in ways that I never would have daydreamed about.  I also as able to reinforce that I really do like a good mind fuck.  If you can get me there the rest of your story is a hot burning good read for me but without it I don’t always connect.  I think that’s true in real life as well but that’s a post for another time  I wrote four new stories while class was going on.  Two ended up being connected and could spawn into something else like the Alphabet Game series.  I STILL need a good editor to help me work on those things and I need folks who can critique and still read things that may scorch your eyebrows. 

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