Another essay I found in my files from my first and only creative writing class. I remember the teacher's one criticism was, "why is it told in the third person?" I took it as a criticism, as if I had done something wrong, and at the time, I had no idea what she was talking about. Now I realize the main character was disassociating. I wish I'd been able to say that at the time, got her take on it, but I was young and reactive, incapable of that sort of honest reflection on my writing. (Notice the typed pages. lol Does anyone even own a typewriter anymore?)
I was weeding through my files of paper (the one thing I hoard) and found this. Recently married and working as a temp, I was feeling the frustration of being pulled in two directions; the need to make money, and my need to write. This essay was born out of that miasma.
I live for the HEA and am constantly striving to improve my craft. Social media is the only place I connect with my peeps, so I rely on it for feedback about writing and the writing life.