So last week I had anticipated on covering a lecture given by a contemporary feminist author. As I often do with my stories/ life in general, I had planned out the delayed lead I would use with the story before the events even happened. I had known that a small group of students, self included, were going to have dinner with the author before her presentation. The dinner was enjoyable, yet nothing about the author's presence was inspiring or particularly interesting. Burdened with the internal repetition of a nondescript male voice saying "don't meet your heroes!!", I reminded myself maybe she's just not particularly emotive..yes, there's a certain mystique about her. Perhaps she's more of the brooding activist...yes, she's scribbling down haikus on her napkin while she eats her spinach cranberry salad.
But no. There was no mystique, there was no haikus, not even a damn spinach cranberry salad.
Disappointed by my own neutrality to a night I had anticipated for weeks, I hoped that the actual lecture would deliver something that would inspire some type of particular sentiment, whether it be good or bad. But that didn't happen. I almost fell asleep during the lecture and couldn't bring myself to write about it. So once again fellow 621-ers I look to you. You are to me, as the north star is to a sailor lost at sea. Woah guys, that got pretty emotional and hyperbolic.
How do you keep readers engaged in a story about an incredibly vapid event?
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