No time. I have no time. College is a time to grow, to learn, to produce. I have no time to grow, or to learn, or to produce–especially not produce. I have ideas bouncing around in my head, but they’re being crowded out by poetry explications, cultural critiques, case studies, instruction collections, etc.
I did take the time to sketch out a map. For some odd reason, a well-sketched map always gives me a direction–pun intended. So many plot twists and interesting character traits arise from geography and location. I have a new map, so therefore I have some new options.
I love fiction. I love reading it, I love writing it. Pick it up sometime; it does wonders for the soul. Literature classes, on the other hand, do very little for the soul. Or the mind. Actually, I don’t know what Lit. classes are good for. . .