A class. A course on writing, of all things. That’s where I was on Tuesday night, a novel writing course.
And am I planning on writing a novel? Well … not so much. Oh, I’m not saying it won’t happen, I’m slowly writing my childhood memoirs and have every expectation of publishing them eventually, but right now? No. I have so much on the go right now, so many different tasks lined up one might be led to believe that I had ADHD.
Oh, yeah … forgot there for a minute.
On Tuesday night I entered the classroom with some trepidation. As you heard in Wednesday’s post, I had forgotten my medication on Tuesday. That was not my only cause for concern, however.
What could possibly go wrong?
The last time I set foot in a classroom I was, by my own estimation, normal, a norman, a standard issue human male – 1959 model. The course I was taking back then was, surprise, a writing course. Freelance Writing.