I Worked for Hours

Yesterday morning I worked on an essay in which I was really satisfied with. Five hours later when it was finished, it posted. The story was from one of my humorous college memories while at Art Center. Six hours later I received a text from one of the essays’ referenced friends, and she let me know that my essay was not about the person I wrote about, it was her. Oh boy, talk about deflation! I immediately removed the essay from its posted location. For the most part the story’s details were correct but since the ‘main character’ was someone other than whom it centered around, then it changes to the story’s perspective need to be made.

Writing is a process, a craft, an art in itself. It is one I have consistently grown a greater appreciation for since I was a child. So it’s time for a re-write, oh well, that’s how it goes. Like any art form, even writing is a constant work in progress.

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