Today two of my friends asked me to join them (as well as a group of other people) to read through the Fine Print submissions. Every year the little college I attend collects students' short stories and poetry, a bunch of nerdy people read them, and eventually some get collected into a book-bounded form. It was the best thing EVER. It reminds that I totally want to be an agent, even if none of them screamed PUBLISH ME NOW, but there were a couple that said "I actually know how to write, I have potential, please read more of my stuff." Especially the one dude. I probably upped his scores a little bit, just 'cause his was so much better than anything else I had read. There were just a couple of parts I think he could have written stronger, and I know he would agree, so I don't feel bad posting it on the web. Especially because no one knows who I am talking about. (Raspberry Moose!)
This is a moose. He is made of Raspberries.
The thing with poetry is either I love it, or I hate it. There was one poem that I loved, and the other person who looked at it did not love it. So we passed it around. And around. And there ended up being a whole discussion about whether or not it was good enough to put in the Fine Print. My opinion? If you can write anything that gets people choosing sides and trying to persuade others to agree with their point of view, you have done something special. No one else discussed any of the other works. Just that one. So I say publish it. If it gets us talking... Well, you just did something no one else achieved. I take my invisible hat off to you.
This is the antipode of an invisible hat
There was one thing disturbing about the whole event. The one dude and I kept scoring things scarily close. For poems there were four options: clarity, content, form, and impression. I freaked out when we did the one EXACTLY THE SAME. Very weird.
Also, I decided today that I need a new college. [Because as far as I am aware one cannot become an agent without having some form of degree. Sad face.] As depressing as this sounds, it is true. I am tired of being one of the smartest kids in class. Ugh! Disgusting. I am not that good people. I am bored. I can pass a test I did not study for. I can get A's on papers I finish right before class. I refuse to get a degree simply because I can. I want a degree because I worked for it, because I slaved over it, because I nearly died from pure stress in order to achieve it. Maybe that's what graduate school is for? I don't know, it just seems that a senior in highschool is at a higher education level than a freshman's first year at college. What is wrong with that picture, I ask you?
Seriously, what IS wrong with this picture?
Moving on to actual writing things: Today I wrote 4,ooo words. Hoorah! I wanted 8,ooo, but we all knew that wasn't going to happen, so I kept my hopes at 2,ooo. I beat my score! Hopefully this means I can finish the sequel before the month ends, but I don't know. I still got a ton left. I still have about half the novel left. Sadness. Despair. Lack of cookies.
This fish is sad he has no cookies
The kitten is sad he has no brains
(Take THAT EB! I have your kitten trapped, trapped I say, bwahahahahahaha >:)
In conclusion all I have to say is that I MUST send out a query this month, I must, I must.