I survived another semester!
I took a creative nonfiction workshop. This marked the first time I was enrolled in a creative writing course since my undergraduate years. The professor, a local writer, was a nice guy. Funny, too. Enjoyed myself even though my classmates were a constant reminder of my age.
We worked on two personal essays in class. The first was more memoir while the second required some research. I was most proud of my first essay, but the professor suggested I trim out some of the characters. I don’t agree that was the issue with my essay. The problem was that I attempted to cram an important moment in my life into a 20-page essay.
I may revisit it and expand its length. Maybe abandon it as a creative nonfiction and return it to a fictional realm. I have written it as fiction before minus the conflict. I suppose we’ll see.
He recommended that I should consider submitting the second essay to a literary review that covers mental health. I think I can tinker with it a bit to make it sound less like an academic paper before doing so. I subscribed to the publications so I can get an idea of what they want.
At the moment, I’m devouring books that I couldn’t read while in class. Currently, I’m reading El Viejo by Edward Vidaurre. The title should sound familiar if you were following my posts last month.
Chapin City Blues 
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