I had my first fiction class this past wednesday. I didn’t know what to expect but I was anxious to see what I could learn from the instructor. When I walked into the classroom a white hair white woman with glasses greeted me. She was very enthused to see me and the other beginning writers who were ready to throw away their misconceptions and learn from someone who knew a thing or two about writing. There was a total of 3 guys and 8 women present for class and I looked like the one out of place. I was dressed in some jeans and a designer shirt that was hugging my body, I clearly looked like I could easily punch someone out and also mirrored of someone ready to go out on a date or hang with the boys. Nonetheless I was ready to see what I could learn. This was the first class in over 3 years that I have taken since being out of school and a class that I wanted to take and had no problem paying for something that I felt that will benefit me.

Once everyone was settled in the fiction teacher introduced herself, talked about her credentials, gave out a rule that she had for the class, and told us that we all are writers. She was very inspirational and gave all of us positive feedback on what we wrote for the writing exercise. What I learned that day was that I am a writer and that there is tons of things that I do need to work on, but I can express myself and a story through words. Furthermore, is that a novel is a series of short stories that gradually reveal more about the main or round character. That little statement is so simple, but powerful because I started to think and jolt down more short story ideas and to look at the way authors put together a series of circumstances that gives the reader an understanding or realization of the story through the main character.