class last night was utterly delightful and not just because kelly manage to make it to class or because it didn’t snow (and it had absolutely nothing with the vodo gracing us with his sweet, sweet presence at Grumpy’s after class). no, i thought it was utterly delightful due to the awesome discussions of the workshopped stories.

last night i finally realized that i totally, totally get off talking about stories and writing. if i had a penis i would have had a 4-hour boner last night (and more than a few minutes would have been courtesy of the the vodo).

we discussed one story that kind of put the traditional short story style right on his head. a lot of me ‘mates had a really hard time with it, and that’s what was so fun. it’s cool to see people who are kind of old hat at something (and in this case short stories and the workshopping process) struggling with the short story form. i was giddy watching them trying to cram this story (which the vodo had pronounced ‘plotless’ which isn’t necessarily a bad thing) into the form they’re so comfortable with.

basically the story was a male narrator kind of telling us about his life while describing the jewlery in his life and the women who gave it to him. while the story did have some flaws, it was still a very cool premise.

my mates kept coming up with this plot devices to give the story more ‘meaning.’ they wanted it to be told from the point of view of a dying man, or someone who is telling their tale to the police in order to recover the stolen jewlery.

it was maddening. i had to jump to the story’s defense.

“i think that we’re having such a problem with this story because it throws us off our game,” i said. “we’re trying to cram it into these lame ‘devices’ just so we know what to say.”

i said some more stuff, orating most passionately for this plotless story. i wish i could remember what i said at the end of the workshop. it must have been good because kelly leaned over to me and said, “well said.”

i think i might have blushed.

of course kelly wins the comment of the night by making a barely-under-her-breath snark about Salinger moments after he spoke. god that chick’s got some balls.