Well, I'm just posting generally right now. If anyone is reading this, and also reading the author's information on the side panel, you'll see that I'm currently still a student. The circumstances that brought this on were a combination of laziness and general dreaming. See, I attended college right out of high school like the majority of American teens. After a year i came home and found a summer job on a steamboat. I so enjoyed the work that I decided college could wait and struck out as a deckhand on a day excursion steamer, the STR. Belle of Louisville.
After three years of sub-standard pay for back-breaking work, I decided it was time to return to college. I went down to the university I had attended the first time, then after a year there decided to return home to Louisville at the behest of my father. He offered me a job working in his office, which I still hold when not attending classes at the University of Louisville or writing.
It is through this status as a student that I enter my last semester of college, and that I ignored the advice of everyone else to take a Creative Writing course this semester. Although most of those people I know who have ever sold anything of substance, of which there are a grand total of two I know personally and several I know only in the same sense as the rest of their readers, have told me these courses are a waste of time, I thought it would be worth a shot. Besides, I have a backlog of crap that I can turn in. Then I did a quick Google on the professor, a Paul Griner. Paul Griner, a veteran of short stories with two books under his belt.
There goes the idea of turning in crap, right? Right.
So we've had to write a piece on a "traumatic memory" as a short writing prompt for him. The problem is i really have no truly traumatic memories that I can write about in a short manner. Not that I've ever had a problem writing about things like that, just that when the stuff gets personal I tend to get verbose in my descriptions. So I chose a less traumatic memory that bordered on both embarassing, painful, and funny from my time aboard the boat. I, personally, hate it. The idea, though, was to get us writing, and it did that.
Well, that's that for tonight. Tomorrow, after I turn that thing in, I may post the text of it on here for my own amusement. I mean, it really isn't as if anyone reads this, right? Right. By the way, if you do read this then drop a comment. I want to be secure in knowing I'm alone in posting here for right now.
Take'er Easy,
J.C. Tabler
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