I have to confess: I miss Dr. Schaack. Five years (holy crap five years!!!) out of high school and he is still the only, albeit pompous, creative writing teacher that has ever really given me cause to strive for the stars. I should have gone to college, maybe that would give me a leg-up in the world of writing. Maybe I still will go to college. I just haven’t the time, the transportation, or most of all the money to do it. All in all, I need a mentor . . . or a creative writing group that I can physically go to and work in Round Table discussions with. I long for that. I need someone to be brutally honest and tear my writing apart. It’s OK, I can take it. I know I can. I want it. I need it. And I want to do it to other writers, too. Never maliciously, just in the way that a Sensei would kick a pupil’s ass in the same way over and over until the pupil woke up and realized what they need to do to improve---ok, maybe that doesn’t sound any better, but I hope I get the point across.
Now, if only I could convince my local fellow pens-at-arms to commit to a day every few weeks to gather and share our work with each other. Maybe feedback and *le gasp!* progress could be made with everyone.
In other writing related news . . .
I went to Border’s on Saturday to see if I could pick up the Dragon Age novels. Alas, they were not in stock. That was a blessing in disguise, however. Blasphemy, I know!! So I perused the Sci-fi/Fantasy section for about half an hour, searching for an awesome replacement. I picked up another copy of Stardust (my old copy has suspiciously gone missing) by Neil Gaiman . . . . and a Box set of The Night Angel Trilogy by Brent Weeks:
Holy Fuck. That’s all I can say. I am only about half way through the first book and the man is a friggin’ god among writers. Vibrant characters, thick-yet-followable-plot and a crisp, tangible storytelling. Everything that makes a writer—and a book—great. If you love fantasy, then by the gods pick up this series!