September is here, and summer is ending in the northern hemisphere. I’m not sad to see it go, being a lover of Autumn and all that comes with the falling leaves and breezes whispering winter psalms.
It’s the perfect time to gather with friends over mugs to share stories and laughter and quiet moments of happiness. So until our paths cross in person (and I really hope they do), we have this lovely internet for our storytelling and exchanges.
That’s one of the things that I love about Live Journal (as opposed to social networking sites). LJ allows for storytelling–it creates a time and space for expression and revelation and collaboration. Those other sites are great for catching up and sharing news, but for me, LJ is about something a little more substantial, more akin to the dying art of letter writing.
And speaking of lively chats, my interview is up on Between the Lines, a blog that interviews people devoted to literature, from teachers, lawyers, and doctors to academics, novelists, critics — and beyond. Kevin Neilson, a philosopher and unabashed lover of prose fiction, has done a great job rounding up booklovers from different walks of life to probe with fun and provocative questions.
I happen to know that some really fabulous folks are on board to share their love of books and literary insights in the coming weeks.
Check out the site (http://jkneilson.wordpress.com/) and leave a comment so that Kevin knows that you were there and enjoyed the site.
I also invite you to respond to some of the interviews. Truly. If no one responds, it’s a little like standing up in front of a room after a lecture or reading, and being met with silence and blank stares. I taught college Composition and Creative Writing, so I’m no stranger to the blank stares.
Read some of the other interviews, write a note, and stay tuned to more musings about literary passions.
The crickets felt it was their duty to warn everybody that summertime cannot last forever. Even on the most beautiful days in the whole year–the days when summer is changing into fall–the crickets spread the rumor of sadness and change."