Wednesday, November 12, 2014

what i'm reading.

a selection of articles and essays written by Marina Keegan, a Yale graduate who tragically died the day after graduation, and compiled by her mentor, Anne Fadiman (with the help of Marina's parents).

i read Anne's description of Marina's death and her family's subsequent support of her bf (who was driving the car at the time of their accident), all summed up in two short and very precise paragraphs, and immediately began crying.  i never met this girl.  i know nothing of her, but that she was young, and a writer, and apparently a vibrant one at that.  but i cry for her.  for her family.  for herself.  for them knowing her so well as to forgive him.  for this beautiful body of work she left behind for us.  for the loss of   for the tireless, i'm sure, effort that went into giving us this beautiful gift that was Marina's talent.

i came across Marina's essay, The Opposite of Loneliness, months ago (i can't even remember where), and knew that i had to read more of her work.  it took me a little over a month to finish (not enough time in the day people!), but i was impressed by how much of life Keegan expressed in her essays in spite of her young age.  everything was really, really good.

inspired.  that's how i walked away feeling when i was done reading the collection.  i'm a writer.  i identify as a writer.  i want to write more.  i want to write well.  for myself.  so, you might catch me pulling my journal out more often.  fingers stained with ink.  writing so swiftly you might not even be able to read my chicken scratch.

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