Long, full day yesterday, but last night was my very last workshop in the program, and my story was the very last story we critiqued. I’d started out the semester feeling so much pressure to “make it,” to step beyond “good for workshop” and into just “good” as many of my classmates had done. And as the semester went on, I had to accept that it just wasn’t going to happen; I was stuck, I had plateaued; I had to confront that truth and move on. Just get a story in and accept that it was going to suck.
Instead, people said, unanimously, that it was one of the most powerful things I’ve ever written and needed only the most minor of tweaks. Our workshop instructor said that not only was it wonderful that this was my swan song, but it felt like such a perfect grace note for the whole class to end the semester on. I was just incandescent. I was laughing all the way home, just so giddy and grateful, and I woke up this morning still laughing, still overwhelmed.