Shark hanging at the Jubilee’s Literary Stage (sponsored by PEN Center USA)
I hesitate to use the word perfect. Sometimes it comes out in conversation the way I might say, “totally” or “actually” or “literally” or “really”. Things are rarely perfect. Totality is more rare than we make it out to be. “Literal” shouldn’t be used figuratively (the way it so often is). Similarly to the way “actual” is as redundant as “really” is almost useless. Don’t you think?
But last week was nearly perfect. I had a ten hour writing day. Finished a first draft which, aside from momentary flashes of complete self-doubt bordering on humiliation, I like. Made a deadline. Savored my second-to-last week with my writing workshop. Had three days in a row of writerly social events, including two readings given by inspiring authors. Went on a date with Andy. Saw live music. Didn’t get caught in any crossfire. Was spared traffic jams of presidential proportions.
Yes, it was a good week.
I really do love Los Angeles.