This last Friday, I had the geat honor of hearing and meeting one of my longtime literary role models, Tobias Wolff (pictured with yours truly). I don't want to get all Annie Wilkes ("Misery") about it, so I won't gush. But the reading was wonderful and Mr. Wolff's graciousness and humility was a treat. 20 years of reading his work and to have him remember having read about my own book, showing a geniune interest and willingness to read it, was more than I ever would have imagined in my wildest dreams. I hadn't yet begun reading his new collection--partly because I was finishing Mary Roach's new book, partly because I was holding out since the longer I stretch the reading experience, the longer I'll have it to read--but on the ferry ride home that night, I cracked it open and had to struggle to put it down as we reached the dock.
I also had my final reading (for now) of my own book, "The Lyncher in Me" at our local bookstore here on Bainbridge Island. A great crowd, about 50 or so, including some family members. I admired that they were there, as I know it wasn't a comfortable spot to be in, knowing that all of these strangers around them were privvy to the most intimate of details of our family. The support was wonderful, though, and the feedback was validating. As great as it was, though, there's a certain level of relief to be done for awhile.
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