My Friend, the Author
My friend Sarah is kind of like my unofficial hero. Our friendship is different in that it really began to develop after we had both left a company we worked for. We were in different departments and our interaction was minimal while there. Yet I liked her as a colleague and found her to be more real and pleasant than the norm is found in New York offices.
The days following September 11, 2001, Sarah and I, along with a small group of girls from the office, started to frequent a diner near our job. The diner is called the Big Apple diner. Not too clever of a name, but that is really what it’s called. Most of us were still numb from the events of the preceding days and tried to find comfort in simple things like idle chatter at lunchtime.
On one of those lunch dates, we encountered a table at the diner of about four or five women in American Red Cross smocks. They looked exhausted as they sat there having lunch. Obviously, these good souls were volunteers at Ground Zero trying to take a break and step away from the tragedy. We girls sat there in admiration for these women and humbled by their bravery.
Without missing a beat, Sarah whipped out a credit card, called over the waitress and picked up the tab for those ladies. I was dumbstruck with awe. We were all sitting there. We were all thinking we should do something. Yet not a one of us was so quick as to think that a gesture as simple as paying their bill could be so gigantic at the end of the day. Trust me when I say our job was not paying us a bundle, so that she would feel totally comfortable picking a bill she had not even set eyes on!
The Red Cross ladies soon learned of the gesture and came to thanks us all. I felt small sitting there and wanted to just say: “It’s not me! It’s her! She is the good one! Give her all the credit.” Instead, I just sat there speechless, something I usually am not accused of being. Between those grateful women and our group, there was a clear unspoken understanding. We had all witnessed a catastrophic event that had forever changed our lives and our thinking in this country. Our eyes had been opened wide to see the extent of evil invading us. And in spite of standing face to face with the enemy, her small gesture proved one thing: We weren’t going to let them destroy who we are as a people. Tears welled up and silence spoke volumes in the brief interaction we had with them. We said our good-byes with solemn gratitude on both ends and parted ways.
From that day I decided that Sarah is the kind of person I want to have in my life. People who can be human in a spilt second, without worrying about consequences, inspire me to be a better human being, too.
One day, midway through one of our chats, I learned she had a younger brother who had a liver transplant as a small child and she learned I was a kidney transplant recipient. It was yet another reason we got closer. She understood my situation and she was all too willing to accept it and accept me and move on.
Since then, Sarah has changed jobs, remarried, moved to Colorado, worked with some hardcore G.W. Bush lovers, recently moved back to New York and --- drum roll please – has become a bona fide signed author with a two-book deal. She is soon to be published. I am prouder than a hen at the hatching!
Sarah writes young adult books. She tackles the issues of angst-ridden teens and preteens, a subject she revisits with ease and cleverness. A big part of the food and water that helped to grow our friendship is based on our mutual love of writing (and our mutual hatred of corporate existence). Since her big book deal, Ms. Sarah has had the great fortune of leaving corporate behind to concentrate full-time on her writing. However, just like me, she spends a lot of time procrastinating (another shared similarity) and writing her blog.
Like Sarah, I am hoping to become a published author one day, too. Unlike Sarah, my writings are geared more toward adults and I have not yet decided if I want to go the nonfiction route or the fiction route.
Fiction is much easier on the nerves, I find. Making stuff up is better than being harshly honest. When you write nonfiction, you have to force yourself to be true and honest, above all, with yourself. I guess that is one major reason that I have held back writing my memoir. Too much reality really does bite! You will be surprised to find that it is much more difficult to open up that way on paper than it is to make up stories!
Now that Sarah is back in normal, non-republican territory, she has sworn to hunt me down and force me to write more. So, I guess I will admit that I have been secretly dodging her (just a little) because I don’t work on my “craft” as much as I should. I want Sarah to be as proud of me as I am of her. I need to be more serious about what I want!!! I guess, technically we both love to procrastinate to an extreme, but at least she has a publisher. I am not even in that line yet!
Fear not, dear Sarah! My goal is to get that manuscript done and get some poor, unsuspecting publisher to take pity on me and put my book out there for the world to see. I just need you to make sure you’re standing behind me…you know…kicking my ass all the way there!
In all seriousness, my blog started out of two reasons. The first one is that I was admiring Sarah’s cool blog and how she adds pictures to it and refers to herself in author terms: Sarah: Y.A. Author. (Young Adult). The second is that a nice man I work with suggested I consider a blog following a series of email exchanges we had on the importance of American Idol and our society. I guess he liked my writing. We discussed Idol each week as if the national debt depended upon it. Pathetic, I know. It says a lot when we can get millions to vote for the next American Idol, but we have trouble getting a few thousand to hit the polls to elect our next president or – even worse – any minor election for local officials.
America! Love it, or leave it!
The days following September 11, 2001, Sarah and I, along with a small group of girls from the office, started to frequent a diner near our job. The diner is called the Big Apple diner. Not too clever of a name, but that is really what it’s called. Most of us were still numb from the events of the preceding days and tried to find comfort in simple things like idle chatter at lunchtime.
On one of those lunch dates, we encountered a table at the diner of about four or five women in American Red Cross smocks. They looked exhausted as they sat there having lunch. Obviously, these good souls were volunteers at Ground Zero trying to take a break and step away from the tragedy. We girls sat there in admiration for these women and humbled by their bravery.
Without missing a beat, Sarah whipped out a credit card, called over the waitress and picked up the tab for those ladies. I was dumbstruck with awe. We were all sitting there. We were all thinking we should do something. Yet not a one of us was so quick as to think that a gesture as simple as paying their bill could be so gigantic at the end of the day. Trust me when I say our job was not paying us a bundle, so that she would feel totally comfortable picking a bill she had not even set eyes on!
The Red Cross ladies soon learned of the gesture and came to thanks us all. I felt small sitting there and wanted to just say: “It’s not me! It’s her! She is the good one! Give her all the credit.” Instead, I just sat there speechless, something I usually am not accused of being. Between those grateful women and our group, there was a clear unspoken understanding. We had all witnessed a catastrophic event that had forever changed our lives and our thinking in this country. Our eyes had been opened wide to see the extent of evil invading us. And in spite of standing face to face with the enemy, her small gesture proved one thing: We weren’t going to let them destroy who we are as a people. Tears welled up and silence spoke volumes in the brief interaction we had with them. We said our good-byes with solemn gratitude on both ends and parted ways.
From that day I decided that Sarah is the kind of person I want to have in my life. People who can be human in a spilt second, without worrying about consequences, inspire me to be a better human being, too.
One day, midway through one of our chats, I learned she had a younger brother who had a liver transplant as a small child and she learned I was a kidney transplant recipient. It was yet another reason we got closer. She understood my situation and she was all too willing to accept it and accept me and move on.
Since then, Sarah has changed jobs, remarried, moved to Colorado, worked with some hardcore G.W. Bush lovers, recently moved back to New York and --- drum roll please – has become a bona fide signed author with a two-book deal. She is soon to be published. I am prouder than a hen at the hatching!
Sarah writes young adult books. She tackles the issues of angst-ridden teens and preteens, a subject she revisits with ease and cleverness. A big part of the food and water that helped to grow our friendship is based on our mutual love of writing (and our mutual hatred of corporate existence). Since her big book deal, Ms. Sarah has had the great fortune of leaving corporate behind to concentrate full-time on her writing. However, just like me, she spends a lot of time procrastinating (another shared similarity) and writing her blog.
Like Sarah, I am hoping to become a published author one day, too. Unlike Sarah, my writings are geared more toward adults and I have not yet decided if I want to go the nonfiction route or the fiction route.
Fiction is much easier on the nerves, I find. Making stuff up is better than being harshly honest. When you write nonfiction, you have to force yourself to be true and honest, above all, with yourself. I guess that is one major reason that I have held back writing my memoir. Too much reality really does bite! You will be surprised to find that it is much more difficult to open up that way on paper than it is to make up stories!
Now that Sarah is back in normal, non-republican territory, she has sworn to hunt me down and force me to write more. So, I guess I will admit that I have been secretly dodging her (just a little) because I don’t work on my “craft” as much as I should. I want Sarah to be as proud of me as I am of her. I need to be more serious about what I want!!! I guess, technically we both love to procrastinate to an extreme, but at least she has a publisher. I am not even in that line yet!
Fear not, dear Sarah! My goal is to get that manuscript done and get some poor, unsuspecting publisher to take pity on me and put my book out there for the world to see. I just need you to make sure you’re standing behind me…you know…kicking my ass all the way there!
In all seriousness, my blog started out of two reasons. The first one is that I was admiring Sarah’s cool blog and how she adds pictures to it and refers to herself in author terms: Sarah: Y.A. Author. (Young Adult). The second is that a nice man I work with suggested I consider a blog following a series of email exchanges we had on the importance of American Idol and our society. I guess he liked my writing. We discussed Idol each week as if the national debt depended upon it. Pathetic, I know. It says a lot when we can get millions to vote for the next American Idol, but we have trouble getting a few thousand to hit the polls to elect our next president or – even worse – any minor election for local officials.
America! Love it, or leave it!
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