365 days of being a writer: day 10

When I quit smoking, I joined a forum-based site called quitnet.com. The site had an extremely lively main message board, and the community had established little "rewards" based on how many days quit you were. On day 3, for example, you got your "quit socks." On that day, you would be given shoutouts and little message post parties and other sorts of things that were charming back then because of the relative newness of the online community, and then one of the den mother types would ask you to tell the rest of us about your socks. Along with a little speech letting everyone know how hard and also easy but mostly hard the last three days had been, you would describe your socks.

I remember one woman said her socks had healthy pink lungs stitched on them, while another's were striped monstrosities--but she'd stand out because of her crazy ugly socks from now on, not the cloud of nasty smoke she used to carry around her.



Day 10 was the day a quitter got his or her big girl/boy pants. So I guess that means that today I get my project pants. I am too tired to describe them, so use your imagination.

This evening I went to a writing workshop led by Amy Silverman, managing editor of the Phoenix New Times. Tomorrow I will write more about it, but tonight a couple of quick observations:

1. I am so goddamn judgemental. 
2. Any prompt can be a good prompt. Except maybe "I believe..." (which only makes me sing Whitney Houston in my mind.)
3. Two hours isn't enough time to learn a thing and then practice what you've learned.
4. Why does there always have to be one total attention hog in every single class? (see also item #1)
5. Teaching takes patience.

There you go. Day ten. I believe the children are our future.
2773 days,  18 hours, 16 minutes, and 35 seconds quit.