Whirlwind

Went to Dublin this weekend. I have bad travel karma. Went to Dunleary on Sunday, beautiful.

I've switched classes. I'm now in the poetry section of the course, which sounds more intimidating than it really is. Almost. I'm not a poet, by any means. I enjoy nonfiction writing above all, in that I love writing about things that have actually happened to me. I thought I was climbing a mountain when I had to make something up on my own. But now I have to make it short? Ugh.

I've never done this much writing before in my life. And I thought I wrote a lot. This program came at a great time. I used to write every day, but for some reason, I stopped. Got too busy. But that's a crap excuse. And I know it. This has made me write. If I don't write, I fail. Don't want that.

I'm a bit sick at the moment, have been for a while. I wish I would just get sick, or not. This in-between stage is driving me crazy.

Other than that, loving England. Going to Lyme Park in a few days, one of the manors outside Manchester. Then this weekend, I'm off to London. Going to try my damndest to see Jake on Sunday. I hope I can.

Shameless plug for Centre for New Writing blog here: http://cnwsummerschool.blogspot.com/

Off to read.

S