Stillblogeto

this writing thing. i just can’t do it.

not THIS writing thing. not the blog. that i can do.

its the writing workshop that I teach. i can’t do THAT.

For one thing… it comes dangerously close to american idol, a show that I’m addicted to (yeah, yeah, i ended in a preposition. fuck you). And, these people, like most people, are beginning to annoy me. They are all very nice, but … nothing changes. the same woman writes the same ‘piece’ that sounds like a ’snippet’ from readers digest. its usually about spring or seeing the beauty in something, or some other boring crap. and the woman who writes as if we are in the 50s. “old doc McGreggor” and “c’mon boys, lets get out of here”. who talks like that? she gets offended when i remind her we’re in 2007 now. there’s another woman who writes about ancient Lapland. No, i don’t know where ancient Lapland is, but her stories are good. although, half her mistakes I don’t even care about because she’s reading the story with a raspy swedish accent and it sounds romantic. if i read it, it would sound rediculous.

so tonight, i had someone new sign up. I didn’t have the heart to tell him i’m probably not going to be teaching it anymore, but after his phone call, i think i might be able to find the courage.

he writes….

science fiction.