gillpolack @ 2014-05-09T21:02:00
My students have put in a particular request for a story next week, and it's my own fault for introducing them to the notion that there are local writers. Next Friday could be interesting...
It was an interesting class, though, for it's such a good group. We talked about the horror in society, the horror in the everyday and a whole bunch of other things. My favourite question was a very intent "Why do you say that AD Hope was sarcastic in that poem?" My favourite moment was when the silent student spoke and then when she spoke again and again and again.
After teaching was grocery time and my inner cupboard is now replenished. Next emergency, I will have more than pistachios and cheese to get me through. Now I'm making chicken stock while finishing my taxes. There's a Fred Astaire musical to usher me through both and a manuscript assessment for dessert.
Tomorrow morning I'm hoping for persimmons and pomegranates as a reward for good behaviour. If I'm really lucky, there'll be chestnuts and Orphan Black before I settle into a serious afternoon of writing. Or an afternoon of serious writing. Or maybe both. My secret equipment (strong coffee and my down dressing gown) is waiting until I've caught up tonight and am all writing-ready.
But right now, I must go, for my soup demands onions and my taxes keep sending me urgent reminders.
It was an interesting class, though, for it's such a good group. We talked about the horror in society, the horror in the everyday and a whole bunch of other things. My favourite question was a very intent "Why do you say that AD Hope was sarcastic in that poem?" My favourite moment was when the silent student spoke and then when she spoke again and again and again.
After teaching was grocery time and my inner cupboard is now replenished. Next emergency, I will have more than pistachios and cheese to get me through. Now I'm making chicken stock while finishing my taxes. There's a Fred Astaire musical to usher me through both and a manuscript assessment for dessert.
Tomorrow morning I'm hoping for persimmons and pomegranates as a reward for good behaviour. If I'm really lucky, there'll be chestnuts and Orphan Black before I settle into a serious afternoon of writing. Or an afternoon of serious writing. Or maybe both. My secret equipment (strong coffee and my down dressing gown) is waiting until I've caught up tonight and am all writing-ready.
But right now, I must go, for my soup demands onions and my taxes keep sending me urgent reminders.
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