“…the pleasure writing gave him: sensual and tactile, a jolt that ran through hum when it worked. Always, he was writing in his head; at parties, he craved to be at a desk. He sometimes thought it was the only honest conduit he had to the world around him, all other endeavors…lost in the excessive caution of failed expectations and injured feelings. (Anita Shrive The Last Time They Met)
Interesting. A man in my critique group wrote a novella length piece that I said would make a good movie-murder, a sociopathic main character. I told him I’d help him write the screenplay. He took me seriously. I can see us at a pitch meeting with studio execs–breaking all molds. Me: Hey, thanks so much for meeting with us. We apologize, I’m old and fat and female and Fred is older and bald, but we have this great story…”
My son is probably moving to LA-one more person to know there–and a reason to visit–he has an offer from a friend to work with him in music production. I wish him all the luck in the world. He’s a good man, smart and works hard. He deserves a break and a chance to do what he loves.
School’s good! I get to talk about writing all day!