Thursday, July 17, 2008

Close One

I signed up for a writer's workshop to be held in August. I read the FAQ and diligently followed all preparation advice. I even looked at the website of the professional sci-fi/fantasy author who is teaching the workshop. I have heard of her, but have never read anything by her. I thought I should.

So I went to the library to check out books by the instructor and found plenty. I chose two recent books. I found that she is highly respected and has won top awards in the field. I started reading one of the books.

People going on a journey, plodding onward, the city in the distance, seemingly close, but deceptively far. And as they plod along they think about their pasts. And they think. And they think.

The action is plod, plod, squeal, complain, plod, plod, plod. Meanwhile, think, think, think. Oh, and plod, plod, plod. Throw in a lot of backstory. More backstory. Name of this village. Name of that ruler. They don't mean anything to me yet. Plod, plod, plod. Think, think, think.

I could not bring myself to read past page four or five. And I paid for this workshop?

I read a bit of another book and could not get interested. Then yesterday I picked up the confirmation letter she sent. I had checked out books by the wrong author! My workshop is being taught by Ann Crispin--not by the author I checked out.

Whew.

I don't know how the other name became imprinted on my mind. Both are female sci-fi authors that I have heard of, but have not read.

What a numbskull.

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