Micah Ray came over tonight. It was good to hang out and talk. I hadn’t expected the explosions of inspiration that would follow and I’m still dealing with them. Micah Ray has a mind that I admire. He is both sensitive and erudite. And he is sympathetic to my writing ambitions because they are also his ambitions.

It took us a while to approach the topic of our craft, but as we did we managed to explain our varied approaches and frustrations. He prefers a pen, I type. We both have quite complicated tropes to aid us in our scope and sequence. And above all, we are long-standing friends with deep affection for one another and the ability (i believe) to help one another stay focused.

In and of itself this is enough, but I can’t help but take comfort from the chance to find myself in a writing community. All of my heroes seemed to have others to pal around with. Tennessee Williams played with Truman Capote, Gore Vidal, and Carson McCullers. Virginia Wooolf had her Bloomsbury pals. Allen Ginsberg got to have sleepovers Jack Kerouac and William S Burroughs. And now I have Micah.