Among others, here is one reason I am explosively blessed: I live in the same town as the Anderson Center. One of those coveted retreat-places, one that draws in talented writers and artists, and this winter, a few weekends ago, Joyce Sutphen graced us with her presence at the winter celebration of the arts, reading from her new collection, First Words.
She recognized me, from the Zagajewski event, from others, and we spoke of the toughness of getting into MFA programs, the retirement of Michael Dennis Browne, and she urged me to say hello when I saw her next. I will, and perhaps, I will gather up the bravery to tell her how much her books meant to me when I was an undergraduate, how much her memoiristic voice means to me now.
1 comment:
I have this real problem with writers I truly admire and asking them to sign copies of their books even though they are the writers I'd most love to have sign them *sigh*
Post a Comment