My ass.
I went to class today with two copies of unromantic. in my 3-ring binder. Armed and ready. A little embarassed by what I had produced, how little time I had spent. I read three others plays as they read mine, one girl and I have mutual admiration, by the end of class I wanted to ask for her phone number or something but felt dumb. It would be nice to have a writing partner or a writing group not made up of dirty old men or aging ladies with dementia. (No offense, none taken - which I am sure would NOT be the reply).
I left a copy with the professor, rode home in silence reworking the thing in my head. What I came up with? That I needed to add more stage directions. I am unsure if the second and fourth scenes work the way I need them too. I am not sure if any of it works the way I need it too.
But since it is late I think instead of taking another look at the script, I will find something I feel like reading.
Been thinking that I need to read The Great Santini, though not tonight.
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