what do I really want? (Spoiler alert: it’s hamburgers.)

And we’re off! My workshop has officially started. I already feel like I’m almost a real writer: my idea mill is pumping out some interesting nuggets, I’m attempting to stick to a weekly work schedule, and I can effortlessly vacillate from complete confidence to garment-rending despair in a matter of minutes. In these latter times I find myself asking the big questions, like: Am I smart enough to do this? What if I can’t make this work? Is this what I really want? Who can I pay to make me dinner?

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GrubStreet or bust.

Sarcasm and Snark are the peanut butter and jelly that gum together this blog. And also my life. But let’s get (sort of) serious for a second. I actually did something productive for my writing this summer: I took my first workshop at GrubStreet.

For a while after the class ended, I was so high on the thrill of positive momentum that on two occasions in one weekend I blurted out to a couple creative acquaintances of mine that I’m working on a book, and I didn’t (immediately) shame spiral.

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