Sunday, August 10, 2008


After two weeks of writing boot camp, I arrived home expecting some sort of reprieve from stories. But Bryan's mom generously treated us to The Phantom of the Opera last night, and before I could help myself I was analyzing plot, looking for motive, seeing where the line between inner and outer story blurred. I was a Phantom virgin, and confess to not having known anything about the story (other than what can be inferred from its title).

I thoroughly enjoyed the entire show. My favorite part was the curtain call, when this building of thousands, people who'd sat so politely silent during the play, were able to tell the performers how much they'd enjoyed watching them do what they love to do. And the performers seemed truly grateful. It was wonderfully symbiotic, It felt like a community, and the fact that this type of exchange isn't available to but a small coterie of fiction writers wasn't lost on me. It makes me want to don a mask and tell all the struggling writers whom I admire that their words do matter.

Without a disguise, I'd like to thank Marc and Veronika for an awesome Saturday run on a Sunday. I can't wait for Pain Day, otherwise known as Tuesday.

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