I just read that Frank McCourt is gravely ill and is not expected to live. Apparently he recently had melanoma but survived that and now has meningitis.
Mr. McCourt was my first creative writing teacher. I was lucky enough to have him for two years at Stuyvesant High School and he fostered my irreverant, impractible love of words that still is a major part of my life.
All week I've had a burning desire to just sit in my chair and read. I keep creating piles of things to read. John Dos Passos, Fitzgerald, Philip Roth. My eyes scan my bookshelves looking for things to dive into. My practical self tells me I should be feverishly working on my novel to prepare for the Napa Valley conference. But I can only make myself revel in the work of others right now.
Perhaps a fitting thank you to a life-changing teacher and writer.
For several years now I've been trying to have a vibrant writing life, practice law, and travel as much as I can. I ask myself if the small-scale, character-driven things I want to write are important. I also wonder if there is even an audience for the things I want to say. But I still press on.
About Me
- Kathleen O'Hanlon
- California, United States
- Kathleen O'Hanlon lives in Southern California. She practices law and is intrigued by the written and spoken word. Excerpts of her memoir "Standing Room" are included in the Fallen Leaf Anthology. In 2013 she completed a novel entitled "Natural Time" that she considers her apprenticeship novel. She is now at work on something else. Follow her at @kathleeno29 on Twitter or as Kathleen.Caterina on Instagram (where she mostly follows cycling, ballet, French and Italian culture and Stanford football).
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