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The first class in the creative fiction workshop begins in a dungeon of a room in Loeb and we’re immediately told we’re switching over to a new room in Paterson. You get the feeling Rick, our workshop instructor, wants to deconstruct this shuffling of rooms. He starts in with us comparing the Loeb hole as something we would dig out of if we were Counts of Monte Cristo.

Here I am, registering as a special student in a creative writing course, summer session. I have an existing three-year BA from Carleton, having graduated in 2004. I first started courses in the mid 1970s, so my original student number is an “historic” one – it didn’t start with 100. A few years ago, my number was challenged in the registration office because “there weren’t enough digits.” That’s a euphemism for “you’re old.”