The orientation session at the Iowa Summer Writers Festival included dinner but we somehow were ignorant of that fact so we ate ahead of time. Just as well, since my gluten allergy would have allowed me to graze the salad greens at the dinner and not much else.
My brother and I are in different classes. I in novel writing; he in creative nonfiction. Both of us trying to find a medium to make sense of the world through words.
The writers in each of our classes were an interesting, diverse lot. Two physicians, one other lawyer, a professor, a psychoanalyst and a mix of other folks, of all ages. They had come from the east and west coasts and as far away as the Big Island of Hawaii, in search of the tools to perfect their craft of novel writing. And this was just the twelve novel writers in my class, driven by a desire rooted deep in the human soul since the time of Homer.
I'll share with you what I learn. Today my 20 page manuscript is one of the topics for discussion. I hope to learn how to improve my craft. I tell myself I am ready for constructive criticisms and suggestions. Without that how do I hope to improve.
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