So the other night, I went to a short story talk…

Snippets of new short stories were read aloud. The three writers speaking were published, and quite diverse. I found one captivating, the other interesting for form and style, and one barely listenable. However this delightful thing happens where sometimes listening to people talk lets my mind wander and write and concept new ideas. Cherry on top of this situation.

This was a great way to spend a Wednesday evening, for one thing it postponed my further watching of Vampire Diaries (a strange series to be addicted to, but oh the wonder of Netflix), and it also made me contemplate the true worth of a Masters Degree in creative writing. It seems almost manufactured, a bit of a cheat, that they can spend their days writing and then pay professors with great connections to read said writing (maybe that is jealousy rearing its ugly head!) Regardless, we had two writing students, and one, shall we say, self-taught. All culminated in a great panel.

Anyway, I am now quite infatuated with Eliza Robertson’s ‘Wallflowers’ and cannot stop reading. I love how her stories tend to end mid-action. They don’t really get tied up and locked down. I like the suspense. She also has a great way of describing everyday details; I find myself staring into space during my work day recounting one of her imagined scenes. If that’s not the mark of great work, I don’t know what is! If you need me, I’ll be reading away! Robertson’s ‘My Sister Sang’ is the next up. I wonder what I will find…

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