Class is in Session – Kind of

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What does one write when trying to encapsulate the intricacies and  complexities of a story of a man like Wicks without becoming verbose or draconian or even predictable?

This is what I want to know.

So, on the most glorious day in southwest Florida, I left my post as a Sierra Club volunteer at the Indian Rocks Beach Greenfest to find out.  Apologizing to my sister activists, I rushed away with my newly purchased gorgeous orchids to make the trek through the  most agonizing tourist traffic in the entire world. An hour later and still 5 minutes late, I grabbed twelve copies of “my work” to share with the workshop writing group and as quietly as possible found a spot as class was already  in session.

A woman with a slight southern drawl was reading.  She was easily offended and annoyingly mean to others throughout this writing encounter, scolding someone for whispering as she read the details of her terrible southern childhood.  A sad cliché of the middle child syndrome as she read from her manuscript with shaking hands.

For three and a half hours, I listened, we talked, critiqued and squared away fees for the class. But some people, I don’t know, just can’t seem to articulate their thoughts, or hear, or understand, or for that matter write. I was late to class and dead last to read. Class was dismissed. I could read first next time, I was told.

Um, I don’t think so.

What do you write as an introduction? Especially for a man like Wicks? The answer was not here, and this was my writing class lesson.

Last night, I started contacting publishers. The story will stand on its own.

 

Remembering Wicks and the story of Rabbitwild.

new rw2

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