Twenty some years ago, I thought I wanted to be a writer. I went to college to get an English degree. I spent my free time penning bad poetry and worse short stories. And after college I started a few book-length manuscripts that ultimately went nowhere. Somewhere along the line, I decided I might be missing some essential bit of writer knowledge, so I sought out a writing workshop at my local community college.
The results were disastrous.
First, let me tell you straight up that what I was hoping to get from the workshop was praise. I didn’t want advice. I wanted people there to read my work and tell me I was the best thing since Ernest Hemingway. Alas, it was not to be.