I never thought I would be this nervous to show my short story to my creative writing class. I worried about it all morning, which is stupid because I doubt anyone cares much about it, anyway. But I think my problem is that I look at my work and I know exactly what's wrong with it, but I just don't know how to fix it. Or maybe I didn't have enough time to do a complete editing job, seeing as I wrote it three days before it was due. In any case, I know almost exactly what criticisms I'm going to face from MR on Friday, and I know it's going to be some bad medicine to choke down my throat. I know I'll never be the next Stephen King. But as a human being I have some things to express, and even if my words aren't those of a professional writer (yet) at least I'm trying. Enough said.