This Thursday is the final class of the semester for my writing class. Three last pieces to workshop. The number one thing I’ve learned this semester is that I am, apparently, a horrible judge of student writing. Except for that very first piece, time and again this semester what I thought was dubious work ended up being applauded by almost all of the other students. And stuff that I liked all turned out to have some tragic flaw as determined by the rest of the class.
My reviews for the three pieces that we workshop on Thursday can be distilled down to one word each: “ugh,” “meh,” and “WOW.” If there was ever a question about whether anybody in our class was The Real Deal, I think that question was answered with one of this week’s submissions. Easily the best piece of the semester. The other two: one was “internally consistent” but limp like a dead fish, and the other was…Christ, I can’t even be bothered to come up with an analogy for how bad I think it is. Even thinking about the “ugh” and “meh” pieces right now drains my energy.
I’m kinda done with this class now. And I think I’m done with workshops for a while. Writing is great, but having students who don’t always know how to write even a coherent story judge one’s work, that’s some bullshit. I’m taking the summer off, but in the fall the only real class that’s being offered and has any relevance to me is an official fiction workshop. So this fall you’ll get to read my further bitching about workshops. Sounds like fun.