I've been meaning to update with accounts of Nancy Kress's and Toby Buckell's smackdown on Saturday, the relatively well-ordered bacchanalia we had on Saturday (also well-deserved, since we'd just gotten halfway through the workshop), Joe and Gay Haldeman's arrival, and the start of the dreaded Week Four (so far, so good - although it got a bit ugly when we had to vote on class t-shirt designs, heh). However, all I've been able to spend my time on is my story. I know: it's like when women talk about their "boyfriends", and everyone silently adds "imaginary" to the word. My story is the "imaginary" story - I talk about it, I supposedly write on it every night, and yet no one has ever seen this mysterious document.
And yes, I understand that I'm at Clarion to learn how to write, and I shouldn't consider this a waste of my time - everything I'm learning is applicable to fiction of all lengths. But if I can't write to market specifications for short fiction, then I should stick to novels. Besides, we all know what kind of success I've had with the "long form"!
::rolls eyes until they pop out of head::
Next week I'm handing in a grocery list. :P