It's now February, day after my 56th birthday. God, did I really write that? I still smoke, on occasion, Oh okay, a little bit more. Chew my finger nails, scratch my head, (hey, at least its not my ass) and write.
I started the MA classes, LIT first. Here we go, I thought. Maybe I can get some of my own writing done. Nope, not going to happen. Not in this class. Maybe the next one. I've read from cover to cover, three times, The Turn of the Screw by Henry James, which was very weird. Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad, which I thought was lousy. I'm no critic, but I don't get into these types of books. However, many people I know would disagree with me, and that's okay. Two craft books as my old mentors in the MFA program would call them, and still need to write a fifteen page report on The Turn of the Screw. Not done though, have three reports and posts to do every week.
Whew, I'm loving it.....
Stay busy. Don't talk about it. Don't ask. I'm okay. Bye for now.