The place where all writers meet

poet Joanne Kyger reading outdoors, 1962. (Source: Corbis Images)


Remember the day when you first thought,

‘ I actually believe I can do better than this ‘

You were probably sitting in a cosy place, with an opened book in your hands, and I bet you were breathing through your mouth. I know all of this because I believe that place you were at is timeless and unique — there’s really no other place like it — and I’m almost sure I saw you there. Weren’t you the one smiling at some crappy book?

There’s another cool thing about that place: ideas exist, expand and mature at zero gravity. That’s how I know it was you. I can’t remember your name, can’t say I had a good look at your face either, but in that split-second after the tip of your lips lifted, the air around us filled with words. Your words. And, of course, then my own spread around like crazy bulbs; you know I can’t control that

You were a gentleman about it, though. You just kept on filling the air as if no one had intruded on your work. You were perfectly capable to read my ideas and still create wonderful worlds around us, filled with interesting characters. Nothing scared you. Remember that?

You were amazing to read! So confident, so secure of yourself, yet calm and achievable. And I am sure you were smiling. Because we all were… creativity is contagious like that.

Do you think you can go there again?
I’ll be waiting.


PS: happy birthday to me.