Since I posted in 2016, which I'm not sure counts as an actual blog post because it's a link to a post on another blog, then didn't post again until the other night, I have been taking writing classes. Creative writing classes. I'm actually what is called a CREW major at a university in my city, with a minor in history.
I was thirty-three when I started taking these classes, I hoped that I would have my degree by the time I turned forty. I wasn't sure, because I decided not to take out a student loan. I pay for my tuition out of pocket, so I only take one or two classes a semester. I'll be thirty-eight on my next birthday, and I'm taking "third year" writing classes next semester, so I might be able to pull it off. If I can't, then I think I'll finish the program in the year after my fortieth birthday...I think. I might even have something publishable, but who knows.
I was thirty-three when I started taking these classes, I hoped that I would have my degree by the time I turned forty. I wasn't sure, because I decided not to take out a student loan. I pay for my tuition out of pocket, so I only take one or two classes a semester. I'll be thirty-eight on my next birthday, and I'm taking "third year" writing classes next semester, so I might be able to pull it off. If I can't, then I think I'll finish the program in the year after my fortieth birthday...I think. I might even have something publishable, but who knows.
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