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Merci Amis

My story was workshopped in class last Tuesday and it received very good comments, including from the guy who had written on the truly horrible story two weeks ago that ‘the dialogue is actually causing me physical pain’. (Heee. I like that guy.) My girl crush talked about the ‘agility of the prose’, which made me want to weep. I think it was the most positive workshop to date.

Then, during the break, someone asked our professor if he’d be willing to write her a letter of recommendation, so I chimed in and said ‘Would you be willing to write one for me as well?’ And he said ‘Oh, absolutely. For this program? No problem.’ And then I asked if he wanted more writing samples, since he’d only seen one example, and he said ‘No, no, I have seen everything I need to see.’ Which is either a good thing or a bad thing, although in the workshop, his only real complaint (other than the fact that he didn’t realize that she died at the end, despite the fact that the entire class did and then he reread the end and said ‘You know, it’s very obvious that she’s dead, but apparently I really wanted her to be just asleep’) was on overuse of gerunds making the voice passive in places. Gerunds! And then he said that when he’s reduced to grammar nitpicking, it means that the story is getting very close.

So yay! How much do I love my class? How much did I need to hear that from them after the sucky suckness that was the suck of spring? So much. You have no idea.

Interesting tidbit: my professor then mentioned that he shares a ride each night after class with Dr. Let’s Be Frank, which makes me wish desperately to be a fly on the wall in that car. Of course, that’s very egotistical of me, and they probably spend the time talking about where to buy suede elbow patches for their wool suit coats or something like that.

But in my head, my lovely professor is taking Dr. Frank to task for being mean to me. And also making him cry.

Ok, in my head, he kicks him too. But just a little.