How the hell do they do it?

Teachers, I mean -- how the hell do they get up and do that teaching stuff all day, every day? Holy crap that's hard work. Yesterday wasn't too bad, I'd never done it before, huge step outside the old comfort zone, but it seemed to go OK. And you want to know the funny thing? I wasn't even vaguely nervous. Not a squit. Nada on les front de nerves.

But today I was worried about the whole thing from the moment we started. Don't know why: maybe because yesterday went so well? Anyway, I was worried today would be a complete and utter, fucking disaster. And you know what they say about self-fulfilling Prophesies... They wear big shoes.

Anyway, all four of the other writers in residence had groovy first sessions. Like petting enthusiastic, fluffy bunnies and feeding them some sort of delicious biscuit. Mine, not so much. I can't tell if I was crap, or if everyone was just playing it ultra cool. Which is a pain in the arse. This shit is hard enough to do, without having to guess if you're going down like a gangrenous nun in a brothel. (Uh, ooh, uuuuuh… Oh GOD! -- pant, pant, pant -- Sister Euphoria, I love it when your toes fall off while we're doin' it!)

But at the lunchtime tea-and-sandwich-fest a couple of people did come up and say that they'd actually enjoyed it. WELL WHY DIDN'T YOU BLOODY LET ME KNOW WHILE WE WERE THERE? AAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH! And other such prima-dona-style thingies.

So I tried even harder in the afternoon. I think it went a little better, but again it's hard to tell. The only thing I do know after all this is that it's a lot harder bloody work than I'd anticipated going in. Hats off to the other four writers there: who seemed to be experienced dab hands at the whole thing. And Kenneth has been at this for four weeks! Four weeks of workshops and visits and not being anywhere near home! WTF? FOUR WEEKS? I'd be running rampant with a whiteboard marker and a fucking big knife by then. Probably screaming something about atmosphere being the sum of all words. Or dancing girls. Haven't decided yet.

In the end, I haven't got the slightest idea if today was OK, or a complete and total clusterfuck.

Who'd be a write-ist, eh?