The next thing

I’ve just signed up to take Amy Paturel’s essay-writing class, as recommended to me by my girl Rachel Vidoni. It’s a birthday gift funded by Mr. R and various relatives who sent me cash to spend in my old age.

This class appeals to me for a couple reasons. First, it’s online. Not like that memoir class at Lakeland Community College, which, even if they hadn’t canceled on me without any phone call or other form of notice, would have required me to comb my hair and put on a bra.

Second, it’s not being taught by the real-life personal friend of mine who gives writing classes online and who might discover that I am a lousy writer just wasting her time. Then our kids probably wouldn’t be able to play together anymore, and I would have to pretend I didn’t see her in the supermarket.

And third, because Rachel says instructor Amy Paturel gives really thorough, solid feedback for students who choose the premium version.

From Amy’s website:

Sessions will cover how to find your story and speak your truth, the art of journal writing (and how it helps uncover stories), the critical elements of a salable essay, the value (or not) of critiques, rewriting your essay, and the specifics of pitching and submitting essays. You will also learn how to make your essays sing by finding your own personal style and voice.

Read the rest of the description here.

You hear that? My essays are going to sing, dammit. I’m excited: up until now they’ve made more of a drunken karaoke croaking sound.

Creative Commons photo courtesy of TheGiantVermin.

(Don’t forget, I’m announcing the winner of my writing book giveaway on Tuesday, June 7. Thanks to everyone who commented here and on my Facebook wall! You all told some great stories about embarrassing moments, and you kind of made me feel better about my own.)