There have been many times in the past two years when I’ve wanted to stop. Stop writing. Stop doing homework. Stop going to class. Life has attempted to distract me in many enticing ways. But there are just two more weeks of class. And when this semester ends, there are no more classes. Not just for the semester, but for my MFA program.
There was an ever-so-subtle shift in my attitude three or four weeks ago. It went from When is it going to be over?! to Oh, it’s almost over! Once classes are finished, I’ll be working tirelessly on my manuscript for several months. But the weekly discussions about narrative arc and structure and pacing will stop. The weekly conversations about voice and narrative distance and tone will stop. The weekly assignments focusing on bringing things to life on the page and creating compelling dialog will stop. I had my final workshop last night, meaning it was the last time classmates will critique my writing.
I’m just guessing, but I suspect there will be many times when I wish it could begin all over again.