With the journalism workshop at an end, I can reclaim my hours from editing and seemingly endless rewrites. All and all it was a great experience--gave me an excuse to visit the city once a week and served as my way into a few sessions hanging out with the fish department boys.
When the class started, I wanted to reform my research and editing ways. Unfortunately I fell right back into the bad habits of research overkill and timid editing. Knowing when to stop gathering information is the hardest part. Editing is easy once I get myself into a foul enough mood, more willing to omit whole sentences.
Blundell wrote that the writer is in fact two people: the artist who creates and the self-editor who ruthlessly picks away at the artist's work. According to Michelangelo, "every block of stone has a statue inside it, and it is the task of the sculptor to discover."
Last week saw the end of my nine month stint as a cashier. Learned a lot, met a lot of great people and tried a lot of good food. In the end my restlessness got the better of me. What started as a temporary part time fill in job turned into forty hours a week-- including Saturdays--shorthanded most of which time, running around like a headless chicken, phone in one hand and receipts in the other. Although I feel terrible about running off when I could be being useful, it's time to get out of town.
Restless heart syndrome by Steph at Twenty-Something Travel...sums it up pretty well.
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