…and only a little late

I wanted to write ten pages this weekend. Eleven pages by Tuesday is only marginally late, and if you count the four pages I wrote in my creative writing class, that makes me an overachiever. Sort of. Right? The eleven pages are a finished story that I’ve been meaning to write for a long time. I’ve started, didn’t like the direction and stopped. I’m still not sure the story, “Tryst,” says all I want it to, but it’s complete nonetheless. I’ll edit it and post it in the next day or two.

Speaking of my creative writing class, my professor, Russ Whiting, is going to help me apply to graduate schools. Deadlines for some are looming, including my number one choice: UNC-Wilmington, my alma mater. The creative writing program there is new, but it’s on the upswing and I’ve heard so many good things about it. Plus, you can’t beat Wilmington. I hope to sit down with Russ in the near future and pick out my best 15-20 pages of work to submit as my writing sample.

A girl in my class who works at the public library and who has a Master’s degree in English accosted me after class and said, “I just want you to know I think you’re a great writer.” I have to take it with a grain of salt considering the class is at a community college in Farmington, New Mexico, but a compliment is nice wherever it’s paid and it spurred me to come home and finish “Tryst” despite a long day.

Currently reading:

A Christmas Carol, by Charles Dickens (0/105)

On Writing, by Stephen King (5/297)