Pretty spent from the trip to New Hampshire, but a few things of note happened, none of which involved me directly. The girlfriend presented a 15 minute selection from her manuscript to her peers, then received her diploma.
Before I start gushing, all the poets in the program were quite accomplished. Possibly that approbation is redundant; very few people take the discipline to such a high level when greatest rewards are usually other than financial–unless they are dedicated to the craft. Her class was definitely skilled in creating and delivering verse.
But the girlfriend . . . wow. She laid that fucking podium down. Beginning with a straightforward and poignant piece, she progressed into some light humor, and then explored some very serious themes. It was dark; it was scary at times; it was masterful. And the dynamic came full circle, and she closed with an incredibly upbeat and positive piece about love in the Garden State. When she finished, the entire audience was spent.
Well, almost everyone in the audience. A very special member made her accomplishments even sweeter.
After the reading, one of the most notable poets of the last thirty years told the girlfriend to send her manuscript along for reading.
Yeah. That’s my girlfriend. A-mazing.
Thank you for being there, DB. This proves that poets (at least our kind) and novelists (at least your kind) are a perfect match.
Love you.
I wouldn’t have missed your reading for anything. Thanks for letting me into the inner circle. Love you, too!
P.S For those following the comments, DB is shorthand for a nickname. It’s personal; that’s all I’m going to say about it.