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I have a dilemma, a conflict, an internal struggle:
In my creative writing class we have these workshops in which we critique a class member's story with them in the room. The rules are, the writer stays silent while each member says one thing they liked and one thing they disliked. The first story was so bad that I said outright that there was nothing I liked about it. I was the only one to speak the truth, everyone else gave some lie of why they liked it. I wasn't being an asshole, there was seriously nothing to like about it.
Most of the idiots in that class say something like "I like the imagery of the story. It made me feel like I was there." In fact, about 5 people in a row say this same exact thing. I can't stand it. If it's known that you're going to critique a story, you have to find something more scholarly than imagery. But half of these morons are business majors, so they'd probably eat me alive in a math or business class.
But this isn't a business class, and I wouldn't take a business class, because I'm not an idiot. And it's kind of frustrating to think that these people took the class because they thought it'd be an easy A. It was so obvious in that first story that the writer finished writing the whole story quicker than it takes me to write a paragraph. It's insulting to me. I hope no one says anything good about my story, I hope they tear it to shreds, because that's the only way I'll know that I've written a good story. I actually want to tell them to skip the first part of the critique or close my ears when they talk about what they liked.
But my dilemma is this. The girl I sit next to, Melissa, is really pretty. I've talked to her outside class and even exchanged numbers, something I've been training myself to do. A few months ago I wouldn't dare asking a girl for her phone number. She told me I was really creative, but I don't think she meant it. I was with her when she wrote her story, an hour before she had to hand it in. This is a good sign, procrastination and female slackers turn me on. And she laughed and agreed when I made the observation to her about the idiots who cite imagery. But I was expecting more from her.
Truth be told, I hate her story. It's awful. I can't find a single thing I liked. It's almost as if there is no hope for it at all. I don't even want to read it again to find something good about it.
So what do I say? Do I claim to like the story? Do I joke about how I enjoyed its imagery, how it made me feel like I was there? Or do I tell the truth and demolish it? Or should I skip class altogether?
It's between skipping class and telling the awful truth. The only catch is that I can't skip the class on account of I have to hand in my story. I can't lie and say I liked it, not a story this bad. Maybe I could conveniently show up late, late enough to miss her critique.
I'm thinking about vocalizing my dilemma to the professor, Ms Julia Fierro. Maybe she'll understand and accept my story before class to distribute it herself.
Maybe Melissa is a masochist, maybe I'll wet her privates with my salty tongue. Maybe she respects guys that tell the truth. Maybe she wrote it as a test of my character. Maybe it's just a fluke because she has writer's block. She is an english major, she must be familiar with literature.
I think I'll just burn the bridges. It's not like we're best friends. Or like I have a chance with her anyway. WWJD?
In my creative writing class we have these workshops in which we critique a class member's story with them in the room. The rules are, the writer stays silent while each member says one thing they liked and one thing they disliked. The first story was so bad that I said outright that there was nothing I liked about it. I was the only one to speak the truth, everyone else gave some lie of why they liked it. I wasn't being an asshole, there was seriously nothing to like about it.
Most of the idiots in that class say something like "I like the imagery of the story. It made me feel like I was there." In fact, about 5 people in a row say this same exact thing. I can't stand it. If it's known that you're going to critique a story, you have to find something more scholarly than imagery. But half of these morons are business majors, so they'd probably eat me alive in a math or business class.
But this isn't a business class, and I wouldn't take a business class, because I'm not an idiot. And it's kind of frustrating to think that these people took the class because they thought it'd be an easy A. It was so obvious in that first story that the writer finished writing the whole story quicker than it takes me to write a paragraph. It's insulting to me. I hope no one says anything good about my story, I hope they tear it to shreds, because that's the only way I'll know that I've written a good story. I actually want to tell them to skip the first part of the critique or close my ears when they talk about what they liked.
But my dilemma is this. The girl I sit next to, Melissa, is really pretty. I've talked to her outside class and even exchanged numbers, something I've been training myself to do. A few months ago I wouldn't dare asking a girl for her phone number. She told me I was really creative, but I don't think she meant it. I was with her when she wrote her story, an hour before she had to hand it in. This is a good sign, procrastination and female slackers turn me on. And she laughed and agreed when I made the observation to her about the idiots who cite imagery. But I was expecting more from her.
Truth be told, I hate her story. It's awful. I can't find a single thing I liked. It's almost as if there is no hope for it at all. I don't even want to read it again to find something good about it.
So what do I say? Do I claim to like the story? Do I joke about how I enjoyed its imagery, how it made me feel like I was there? Or do I tell the truth and demolish it? Or should I skip class altogether?
It's between skipping class and telling the awful truth. The only catch is that I can't skip the class on account of I have to hand in my story. I can't lie and say I liked it, not a story this bad. Maybe I could conveniently show up late, late enough to miss her critique.
I'm thinking about vocalizing my dilemma to the professor, Ms Julia Fierro. Maybe she'll understand and accept my story before class to distribute it herself.
Maybe Melissa is a masochist, maybe I'll wet her privates with my salty tongue. Maybe she respects guys that tell the truth. Maybe she wrote it as a test of my character. Maybe it's just a fluke because she has writer's block. She is an english major, she must be familiar with literature.
I think I'll just burn the bridges. It's not like we're best friends. Or like I have a chance with her anyway. WWJD?
