![]() We became very close, and they had some very intense stuff to write about. And I shared my regret about my “play” with my kids. ![]() We all produced an amazing amount of work, and we wrote in many forms. I was writing all day long with my students. They had original, unique voices, and I got to help them realize that. They weren’t emulating Kerouac like I did when I was in high school. The interest came quickly, and a lot of the kids were amazing writers. I designed the workshop…or I should say we did. I wore a lot of hats, but the best part was that I got to teach writing workshops to kids who did not read, did not write, and had little interest in doing so. For six years I worked with low-income, at-risk youth in San Francisco. ![]() I didn’t appreciate the majesty of that opportunity until a decade had passed. When I moved to San Francisco for college, I just left. I started writing professionally when I was 14 or 15, as a sportswriter in San Diego. My teacher was a very accomplished playwright. I got my grade, but I didn’t get the point. The play I wrote all took place between two people trapped in an elevator. I knew I could write a play that would get me an A. I was also pretty serious about killing my brain cells and playing music and working and…you get the idea. ![]() I was pretty serious about writing when I was in college. Anyway, guess what there is a shit-ton of in a play? It took me many hours of eavesdropping and transcribing random peoples’ conversations to get comfortable with dialogue. ![]()
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