Crash and Burn

I had a literature class last night where we discussed Chekhov stories, and I am not comforted by the fact that it is hard for me to read critically. I am still reading for entertainment and get lost in the story. I am not reading as a writer and I need to break out of that.

Tonight, the first twenty pages of my novel are going to be critiqued by the class. For some reason, my stomach is not churning as much as it was yesterday, so that's good. I have much more confidence in my writing that my critical reading, and I already know exactly what I am willing to change and what comments I will secretly thumb my nose at. But, I don't know, maybe I should have more of an open mind . . .