A world where poetry can pay the rent and get you laid…
Musings from my professor:
“She was a bitch…I think she needed more Prozac.”
“I love a world where poetry can pay the rent and get you laid.”
My short story is done in the sense that it is turned in. I guess its good that its not great because it can now only get better in the rewrite. I don’t like the ending though. I basically had one paragraph that I really liked and then another paragraph I really liked with a big ole blank spot in between where the guy was supposed to say something brilliant. It sat like that for 2 weeks, he never thought of anything. We’ll see how it goes in workshop.
And wtf? I was so totally fine and then he calls and now doesn’t call back. He was probably drunk or something.