More Naked than Naked
My hair is wet and I’m sitting on the floor just out of a quick shower, my legs bent over folders, printouts, books, chords, jeans, a duffle bag and tote. I have at least five hours worth of a novel to finish by 8pm, but I might go to a 6:30 lecture. I wish I had a work desk the size of a king bed.
I’m annoyed that it feels like summer outside, and that each day I get new bug bites in creative places.
Last night I had my first critique. I’m so relieved to have that over with.
It went well, better than I expected. In the moments before I passed out my work, I found a million problems with it. These, of course, were pointed out in workshop, because I’m not surrounded by fools.
But that they liked it so much was fabulous. They laughed, in the good way. Holy cow! I was only hoping they wouldn’t think I sucked.
It definitely feels more naked than naked. I hated it (and myself, and everything) when I re-read it a week ago, then thought it was “ok” yesterday. Now the things I hate just feel like annoying little bug bites that I will scratch until they go away. I will never again have my very first grad school holy shit MFA program critique. I consider it a happy success.
Carrie Brownstein was great, her readings (with slide show) were interesting and funny. I also had known nothing about the Rock and Roll Camp for Girls. Now I really wish I had a little daughter who wanted to rock (because i already did, now i really do).
Congrats! What a huge relief.
thanks bebe!
for reals.
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