Friends with Books

I already love it.
I already love it.

I begin work for my UCLA Creative Nonfiction writing class today. And my friend Stephen’s new book arrived in the mail. It is a good omen I know. There’s a modest but growing pile of books on the corner of my writing desk—books written by friends and relatives, by people I know, which makes them very special. As always I must mention that my master’s thesis, all bound and official is among them; if all of us did this once or, in some cases more than once, then there is no reason, with nose to the computer-grindstone, we/I cannot do it again.

I am excited about my new book here beside me on the couch waiting to be born to the bedroom to enhance a sleep-troubled night.  Life in Jersey/NYC/London, the dance world, the glamour of it all, the excitement, joy, and, I’m guessing, some sorrow in the mix. Just reading the first couple of pages lets me know I will find Stephen both a captivating writer and a supreme teller of tales. Confessions of a Motion Addict may also be the source for more-interesting-than-average dreams when I do fall asleep.

I have been sick for several days. Can’t do that again because I must write the first chapters of Up North over these next couple of months. I’m taking this class for guidance of course but mostly to have a teacher to say WRITE. This is due by____. Do you want an A or not? Yes, indeed, stuck in the 6th grade forever.

I probably will not be posting to my blogs so often for awhile. Teacher says…..

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