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Thursday, August 2, 2012


I recently had the privilege of meeting a fellow writer. This is a rarity for me, as writers are rather solitary creatures, not given to running in packs (except to Starbucks). Come to think of it...I've not met one since school!

I was curious as to what I would see...a mirror in which I could see my own motivations? A tormented genius, holding desperately and joyously to life by the fingernails, while taking deep draughts of life's most intoxicatingly pure nectar?

Or perhaps a cool professional, seeing the novel as Khayyam's chess game, with characters that move, mate and slay, and back in the closet one day lay?

What I met was a lovely and vivacious person, of friendly smile and sparking eye, who put me at ease with a manner that was both humble and exalted. A person of royal blood and common touch, whom I'd just met and had known forever.

It didn't matter that I'd met a writer. It means the world that I met a friend.


  1. I have tried to form into words how I felt meeting the elder of my two brothers. You have formed the thoughts that my heart and mind couldn't find.

    I watched the sacrifice unfold, the one you made to come to the table and sit, your back to the room with the ghosts dancing all around you. I saw it in your eyes, and the eyes of your beautiful warrior.
    I cannot thank you enough for the gift you gave me. I know it was a sacrifice in the purest sense of the word. I am humbled to know a person would give so much, just to meet me.

    I came away from that time with a sense that we 3 had formed a small army.

    There will be beauty from the ashes that float in the air around you.

    It was a deep honour to meet you.

  2. And my dear, dear friend, if I am of royal blood, then you, sir, are the warrior at the gates who carries the true burden and has the purest valor. You and your princess both.

    1. I - we - are so moved, and so grateful. Truly a day touched by Grace.