Indy Clause (via text): I just started reading Ordinary Light by Tracy Smith. I’m prepared to love/hate her.
[Smith’s Life on Mars is everything I try to do. She made me cry (in a good way) when I heard her read at AWP a few years ago. She is a droolworthy poet.]
Friend 1: I hate all poets. You’re only hating one.
[I’m pretty sure she meant that she hates poets because we are so awesome. This is how I chose to read her remarks.]
Friend 2: I’m glad I’m not a poet.
Indy: She is sort of writing my book and she writes better than I do.
Friend 2: Doubtful.
Indy to Self: I wouldn’t just say that if I didn’t think it were true. I have some arrogance/pride.
Indy to Friends: She has three books of poetry and a Pulitzer under her belt.
Friend 1: You don’t write that well…yet. Who’s to say you won’t have five books of poetry and three Pulitzers. Get cracking, baby girl.
What keeps you going?