I love it, especially tonite.
I have been cleaning and making a playlist for my party on Saturday night and I am getting tired. I suddenly remembered I hadn’t written a post for today yet (I am, obviously, writing this Thursday night).
But this is a good one, no? LOTS of idea for writing when you are stuck and have made a ridiculous commitment to a post a day (who, me?) . I actually have a few started, however they need more work than I am willing to give them right now.
So here’s my post, with and GIFT to you attached….you didn’t know there’d be prized did you?
100 ideas for blogs. TADA!!!
I will quickly answer the question about meeting one of my heroes.
I call Anne Lamott one of my gurus and that is absolutely true. I quoted her in yesterday’s post, and have certainly done so before. I have read every book she has ever written and will admit that, while I slavishly adore every piece of non-fiction she has written, I’m a little “not so much” about her fiction. Whatever. She is amazing to me on so many levels. I have read her books for years, but had to re-read them all (for the whatever-eth time) after I got sober and there was so much help for me there.
Anyway…during her tour for Stitches she came to the L.A. Central Library in conversation with Father Gregory Boyle (another local hero of mine!). I went with a friend and it was pretty awesome to hear her talk about her writing and everything under the sun. Afterwards she stayed to autograph books and my friend and I got in line. At the end. ON PURPOSE…hoping to have a word.
When we got to her we were literally the last two people, and there was relief on her face. Of course, I could not help myself and began to talk. About how much I loved her, how inspiring she was to me, how I’ve read all of her books how I am sober too and she was sweet. I was walking away when I remembered the latest and greatest lesson I had learned from her…WAIT (which stands for Why Am I Talking). I had finally shut up around my son and life was getting so much better, and I told her that.
She thanked me and commiserated for a moment, and then handed me a red tootsie roll pop (she’s pretty famous for being helpless around them). As I wrote this I am looking at the pop. It sits in the bowl I use for pens on my desk, and reminds me every day that I can change, and do hard things, I can live through grief and I can write just as badly as I want to or need to and all will be ok in the end. Because…grace.
Ok, phew. Done!