A Surprise for a Writer at Supper?

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Abstract

y our host Nancy.But something new is on the table. White 8 1/2 X11" papers stapled, face down, cover each of our dinner plates. What can it be? I turn the papers over.My article! It’s a print-out of the recent essay I’ve written, published by “Everything Fun,” <a href="https://readmedium.com/ten-minutes-transformed-my-day-206bc830734">“Ten Minutes Transformed My Day: And can transform yours”!</a>“I loved your article. It was delightful,” Nancy says, pausing from setting tacos and chicken on the table, to stand at the corner of the table across from me. “Would you like to read it?”I didn’t know she’d read it. I stare at her. My heart and senses are in (a good kind of) shock.“Maybe Esther can read it,” I suggest. She reads with so much expression.“It’s special to hear an author r

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eading her own work,” Nancy nudges.I mean, writer friends — how often does this happen? Ever?I summon my voice, above, below, and through it having been squished for so long. I read from the papers aloud, wondering how I sound, trying to give more excitement to my voice than I feel from my trembly block of heart. Is this really happening?I wonder at someone, this Nancy, planning to make a new friend happy, to make for her — which is me, an honored moment. I may not get the Pulitzer Prize, a writing fellowship, or any award from a “Poets and Writers” contest (though I wouldn’t refuse any of these).Yet there is something sweet and true about this hors d’oeuvre, this honoring around the dining room table surrounded by three friends. Thank you, Nancy, for your thoughtfulness (and encouragement!)</article></body>

How often does this happen fellow creatives?

Author, photo by Esther Bradley DeTally

I didn’t know that tonight would be special. What a surprise would be awaiting me at the dinner table.

I sit down with one friend to the left and two across the oblong table, still a bit awkward as I’m rather new to this group, having moved to this town eight months ago.

We mutter bits of conversation before the dinner and movie, which I look forward to each Friday night. Sometimes even on a Monday, I think: is it Friday yet? A time to let go of doing and commuting, and to be served dinner by our host Nancy.

But something new is on the table. White 8 1/2 X11" papers stapled, face down, cover each of our dinner plates. What can it be? I turn the papers over.

My article! It’s a print-out of the recent essay I’ve written, published by “Everything Fun,” “Ten Minutes Transformed My Day: And can transform yours”!

“I loved your article. It was delightful,” Nancy says, pausing from setting tacos and chicken on the table, to stand at the corner of the table across from me. “Would you like to read it?”

I didn’t know she’d read it. I stare at her. My heart and senses are in (a good kind of) shock.

“Maybe Esther can read it,” I suggest. She reads with so much expression.

“It’s special to hear an author reading her own work,” Nancy nudges.

I mean, writer friends — how often does this happen? Ever?

I summon my voice, above, below, and through it having been squished for so long. I read from the papers aloud, wondering how I sound, trying to give more excitement to my voice than I feel from my trembly block of heart. Is this really happening?

I wonder at someone, this Nancy, planning to make a new friend happy, to make for her — which is me, an honored moment. I may not get the Pulitzer Prize, a writing fellowship, or any award from a “Poets and Writers” contest (though I wouldn’t refuse any of these).

Yet there is something sweet and true about this hors d’oeuvre, this honoring around the dining room table surrounded by three friends. Thank you, Nancy, for your thoughtfulness (and encouragement!)

Personal Essay

A Surprise for a Writer at Supper?

How often does this happen fellow creatives?