July 27th, 2004


Blast from the past

I just got off a phone call from one of my favorite teachers in High School, Steve Gardiner. He taught English and was the faculty advisor for the school paper and yearbook. One of the (I think two) classes I had with him, my junior year was Publish or Perish. Naturally enough, it was a writing class with the goal of helping students get their writing published. I did have several pieces published that year and the following, mostly in small literary magazine type places, and I won some awards for a poetry collection, too.

I haven't spoken with Steve since my graduation, or shortly thereafter, which makes it ten years, since my reunion is later this summer. In that great, small-town, nobody moves or changes phone numbers way, he was able to call my folks, who gave him my number so he could give me a ring. And why all the trouble? He's done some writing for publication of his own in the intervening years, and he's working on finishing up a book about teaching writing to high schoolers (if I understood correctly). And he was looking through old writing that he had from students over the years, and a poem by yours truly struck him as being perfect to include in the book. (We didn't talk in that class about the slow, but possible option of publishing through laziness.)

We exchanged some chit chat about what we've each been up to recently (ie, the last ten years), and he promised to get back to me with more information and, assuming the publisher gives it the thumbs up, a copy of the book. Woo!

Then he wanted to know if I've been doing any writing these days, and I said I was, but nothing formal, and we agreed that maybe this would be the kick in the pants I could use for it. That would be pretty cool, but regardless, I'm feeling quite perky about the whole thing.