I admired your writing in this blog so much that I preordered your book (disappointed that it wasn't coming out in kindle for me). It has arrived at the perfect time for me to give it to Steve, my Best Beloved, who needs to read as a break from learning guitar and setting his hair on fire from reading the news. I will not mention that the duct tape that is holding him together at 81 is losing some of the sticky.
Well, Steve got himself a reading light to read this book at night in bed, he has been telling me about it and in his words-"It makes me feel better that I didn't spend my life trying to write because this guy Really is a writer. This book is great!" You would not know that Steve is the world's worst critic of writing and has only been lukewarm to any book I have tried on him from modern novels. Your book is a huge hit in this house, and you are a writer of great talent! And if I don't see you on the best sellers shortly, I will be buying a bunch for Christmas gifts-everyone should read this book!
Ride the wave, Dave! Love your first surfing lesson. Struck me (like a wave) that COVID led us, the nation, and world, to depression and isolation. For you and some of us, writing was a way to get and stay up on the board and wave, or go down under and deeper. For me, it was the lift or submission to submersion in SCUBA diving on a writer's sabbatical in Hawaii, rather than riding a wave (which I tried and failed to rise to in Waikiki). It strikes me that we and the world were merely stranded on the (Jersey or Delaware) shore, just trying to avoid going down and drowning or dying without making a difference or being noticed. We were living on the shore. Remote. Afraid of the viruses and the sea. Just surviving on the surface. Our fears and faces covered. Yet we got off the coach to get buoyed by the joy to write, read, reach out, and reconnect with a relative or friend who will get on or under board and paddle out or down with us to greater highs or depths.
My lovely new hard copy It's Only Drowning arrived yesterday, and as I sat here checking it out, it peaked the interest of my husband who came in and saw me. I gave him a brief overview of why I have this book and why I am enjoying reading your essays. I started the book last night and read the first chapter, thus I know much more about dictators in toilets than probably most folks around here. I will be waiting for the opportunity to bring that up in conversation in the future!
I admired your writing in this blog so much that I preordered your book (disappointed that it wasn't coming out in kindle for me). It has arrived at the perfect time for me to give it to Steve, my Best Beloved, who needs to read as a break from learning guitar and setting his hair on fire from reading the news. I will not mention that the duct tape that is holding him together at 81 is losing some of the sticky.
Well, Steve got himself a reading light to read this book at night in bed, he has been telling me about it and in his words-"It makes me feel better that I didn't spend my life trying to write because this guy Really is a writer. This book is great!" You would not know that Steve is the world's worst critic of writing and has only been lukewarm to any book I have tried on him from modern novels. Your book is a huge hit in this house, and you are a writer of great talent! And if I don't see you on the best sellers shortly, I will be buying a bunch for Christmas gifts-everyone should read this book!
Ride the wave, Dave! Love your first surfing lesson. Struck me (like a wave) that COVID led us, the nation, and world, to depression and isolation. For you and some of us, writing was a way to get and stay up on the board and wave, or go down under and deeper. For me, it was the lift or submission to submersion in SCUBA diving on a writer's sabbatical in Hawaii, rather than riding a wave (which I tried and failed to rise to in Waikiki). It strikes me that we and the world were merely stranded on the (Jersey or Delaware) shore, just trying to avoid going down and drowning or dying without making a difference or being noticed. We were living on the shore. Remote. Afraid of the viruses and the sea. Just surviving on the surface. Our fears and faces covered. Yet we got off the coach to get buoyed by the joy to write, read, reach out, and reconnect with a relative or friend who will get on or under board and paddle out or down with us to greater highs or depths.
My lovely new hard copy It's Only Drowning arrived yesterday, and as I sat here checking it out, it peaked the interest of my husband who came in and saw me. I gave him a brief overview of why I have this book and why I am enjoying reading your essays. I started the book last night and read the first chapter, thus I know much more about dictators in toilets than probably most folks around here. I will be waiting for the opportunity to bring that up in conversation in the future!
Wonderful writing. You rock.