Had class last night and the woman I hate had her piece workshopped.
Why do I hate her? Let’s count the ways.
She constantly engages with the teacher as though the rest of us aren’t there. It’s like she has this one on one conversation with him that locks the rest of us out.
When someone asks the teacher something, she often jumps in first.
She says “graph” instead of paragraph.
She says again and again, “I need to write this, I have to write this.” Join the fucking club.
First class she wanted assurance that what she wrote about and said never went outside the classroom. “I’m writing about a very sensitive subject matter,” she said. Like the rest of us give that much of a fuck about your story.
And lemme tell ya, her story’s really not that tragic. Our class has got divorce, mental illness, racism, adultery, spousal abuse, child abuse, incest, potentially life threatening illnesses, alcoholism, drug use.
I’m not saying these things automatically equal a good story, but the way she went on the first day of class – “My entire life changed last year!” – made me think she had far more going on. Not.
First class she was hesitant about giving out her email because she was afraid it would get past the classroom. Like what the fuck are we gonna do with your email? You’re so frigging special that your email’s gonna get out to the spammers?
While her piece was being workshopped, she was defensive at every piece of feedback she got.
“Well, I know I have to fill in those parts. I just didn’t have time.”
“Oh, I can write very succintly. I write for magazines. This is just an experiment. This is very much for myself.”
“Oh, I know. I know. I know.”
Of our feedback, she said it was all stuff she already knew. Again, this was something she just had to write, that it was for herself, that it was an experiment. Then why waste our time and workshop it in class? When I read a piece for class, I assume it’s wanting to be a finished story, not a dumping ground of thoughts. Leave that for your journal.
Or your blog, for that matter.
The teacher asked if the feedback was helpful at all. She said, “Yeah. Kind of.”
She’s such a fucking know-it-all. The teacher recommended a few spiritual memoirs – she’s all into that yoga mumbo jumbo – and then someone else mentioned some others, and she said, “Oh, I read all those.”
Even if ya did, be gracious and SHUT THE FUCK UP ABOUT IT!
I could go on and on.
Occasionally though, I have to admit, she gives some good feedback on other people’s pieces. If only she’d shut the fuck up about herself.