Don’t Forget: New Supernatural Tonight!   

Jensen Ackles as Dean Winchester in SUPERNATURAL, 3×09 “Malleus Maleficarum.”Tonight’s a new episode of Supernatural but you knew that right? After all, just last Friday I shared two preview clips from the episode, “Malleus Maleficarum.” And, if you watched those clips, you’ve surely been on the edge of your seat all week to see what that hotel scene was all about!

But, just in case you didn’t watch or know, tune into the CW tonight at 9PM for a brand-new episode of Supernatural. One of only four new episodes we’ve got left until this strike ends. You don’t want to miss it! Besides, Lost is much better when you can skip through the commercials.

Anyway, even though Sera Gamble didn’t write tonight’s episode, she did write an essay for the Why We Write series and it’s pretty awesome. You should go read it. It’ll help get you through until tonight. In fact, here’s a little excerpt to convince you to go read the full thing:

Why We Write – Number 34: Sera Gamble

When I was in the seventh grade, I wrote a poem about Mozart. It was for a class assignment. Subject matter was dealer’s choice – most of my classmates wrote rhyming couplets about true love – and I’d just discovered classical music. Also, I was already pretentious. This poem of mine so impressed the teacher that she asked me to read it aloud for the class. Maybe because everyone had applied themselves to the assignment with unexpected sincerity, I didn’t get slapped as hard as you might imagine with nerd backlash. Most of the class even clapped. I thought, Hey, I should become, like, a professional writer! People will think I’m awesome and shower me with applause!

After class, this chick approached me at my locker. “So, your poem,” she said. “You’re good with words.”

“Thanks,” I said, with casual humility.

“Yeah, totally,” she continued. “But, you know, it didn’t move me.”

With that, she walked away (possibly in the general direction of a career as a studio exec). I stood there for a long time, locker door in my clammy hand, feeling the blood prickle my neck. I was crushed. She was, I knew, spot-on. Who gives a shit how well-constructed a piece of writing is, if it doesn’t make people feel anything?

Click to read the rest of Sera’s essay.

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