I recently read a book by Beth Kephart titled Handling the Truth: On the Writing of Memoir and in it she asks the reader to think about what draws he or she to a particular memoir. I thought about it and here’s what I wrote down:
The memoirs I like to read share a story of inspiration and make me dream and do. The writers are honest and vulnerable which I admire and they make me feel like I’m not alone. Paris Lettersby Janice MacLeod fits that description perfectly.
I was sick for a few days last week and debated whether or not to go into work. I stayed home but not without feeling a little bit of guilt that I should be doing work. Then I remembered reading this article about The Theology of Rest. And then I proceeded to take a two hour nap which was amazing! I can’t remember the last time I took a nap.
It’s so easy to spot a tourist in San Francisco. Especially in the summer months when it’s not really summer. Tourists are the ones who are wearing t-shirts and shorts and flip flops when it’s 50 or 60 degrees outside and the fog is everywhere and brings a light mist and rain. They also have really big cameras that hang around their necks. I can’t blame them for bringing the camera though because that’s what I do when I visit a new city. I’m snap-happy and take photos of everything.