kill your darlings imageI had my final memoir draft call today with my writing coach. I’d sent her the last 5 chapters to review before she gets married next week. It went well, even when she asked me to cut one of my favorite episodes. Faulkner is the one who initially stated, “In writing, you must kill all your darlings.”

Willingly, I capitulated, even though it was a favorite story of mine. I wanted to show a bit of my boyfriend’s character and had a lot of backstory to wade through to get to my point.

Because it’s a hot summer day and you’re reading this, I’m going to share the cut copy with you–a sneak preview to one of my chapters.

Before meeting Dave, I had kept my calendar full on the weekends to avoid feeling lonely and dateless. Even though we both looked forward to seeing each other, it was a couple of weeks before I could fit him into my schedule. We arranged to see each other on Sunday, mid-afternoon, subsequent to my son Rob’s running the New York City Half Marathon and hosting a brunch at this TriBeCa apartment.

Jim Healy and little James

Rob’s apartment was not far from the finish line, so it was only a short wait between cheering him on as he sped by on the streets of lower Manhattan and his return home. Before my son arrived back, I came upstairs and joined the other guests who’d already gotten there including his father-in-law, Jim. There was another male named James (unrelated) in attendance, an adorable two-year old who was there with his dad, a friend of Rob’s.

Jim was comfortably seated on the black leather couch opposite the widescreen TV in the living room. He was wearing an Irish fisherman knit pullover sweater with three leather buttons at the neck. I only mention this because, coincidentally, the toddler James had on a miniature version of the identical top. Maybe it was the matching  apparel that drew the young child to Jim. who sidled over, extended his arms to be lifted up and sat on Jim’s lap for the next hour. Everyone in the living room noticed this delightful coupling. I snapped a picture. Something about this moment tickled me.

The point I wanted to make about Dave in my chapter was…well, you’ll have to wait until my book comes out.

A moment of silence, please, for this deceased segment.

 

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