What is it about reading or writing in public that makes me feel so dirty?
Reading good stuff, that is, not tabloids in the grocery checkout.
Today I was catching up on some RHINO subs while waiting for my poor little car to receive an appendectomy, and there was one batch of poems that I resisted at first, but then they totally pulled me in, and I was rapt, and then bam, I realized other people were around and got all blushy.
I've also been doing the fiction writing exercises I assign along with the students, and sometimes I get so into it that I forget to check my watch. One of these days we are going to go twenty minutes over and it will be all my writing fault. I feel so funny writing around people.
The result of being an only child, perhaps?
This picture isn't reading or writing or feeling creepy, but it's where I live. Not under the bridge, of course. But I'm pretty darn close to this park.
Chilly gray Fridays like today make me feel like I should be back in Chicago.
It's time to start assembling the annual fall submission, and I need to decide whether to keep pestering the same places, or whether to try some new ones. Suggestions appreciated!
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