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December 9, 2015
We get a little high and suddenly it hits me that I want to read him what I have written. Sitting cross-legged on the bed, a little cognac in hand, I read the preamble and Chapter 1 and as I do, I find myself disengaging from the words, speaking them as though someone else had written them, and surprised at how good it sounds. Like something off a bookstore shelf. Afterward, he has the same reaction: "It sounds like something a real writer would write!" Grin. I'm awed to realize that I am crafting something that could be good.