I left my last class last night at the break, which was the middle of class. I felt liberated and almost euphoric that I'd be home before my bedtime. I had this planned out; if I was so enthralled with class that my eyes were continually trying to snap closed, then I'd leave at break. If class were so exciting that I'd be perky and write down every word this instructor said, then I'd hold out to the end. This was supposed to be the Week of Interest for me: Publishing. She lectured about the publishing world for about 15 minutes and then spent 25 minutes on joining--or NOT joining--critique groups. All well and good, I suppose, but give me a break. Obviously, she didn't believe we could be published, either, and spent most of the session on that topic rather than what we really wanted to know. Of course, since I left early, who knows what nuggets of wisdom I could have gathered at my feet.
But I had had enough. I left my evaluation on the table, hoping my partner would turn it in. It doesn't really matter either way. I stated that I would pay more money to WSU if they would get a published author/editor/agent in to do hands-on training. The instructor was very knowledgeable, but I just don't agree with the teaching style in a writing class.
I didn't say goodbye to my tablemate, either, but figured if we ran in the same writing circles, we may meet up again. Her name is Elizabeth, and she has a beautiful two-year-old boy, and I know the critique group I could find her if I wanted to talk. Elizabeth has quite a bit of talent, and I think that she will be published if she keeps writing the way she is.
I think there's hope yet for me--even if it is e-publishing and getting those run-ons figured out--(Calling on Hannaaaaaaah--I'm dying to know what you think!) :)
Nugget of humor I gathered last night:
Eye halve a spelling chequer
It came with my pea sea
It plainly marques four my revue
Miss steaks eye kin knot sea.
Eye strike a key and type a word
And weight four it two say
Weather eye am wrong oar write
It shows me straight a weigh.
As soon as a mist ache is maid
It nose bee fore two long
And eye can put the error rite
Its rarely ever wrong.
Eye have run this poem threw it
I am shore your pleased two no
Its letter perfect in it’s weigh
My chequer tolled me sew.