Firsts

New York

Katie Couric started something new this Fall. Merideth Vierra started something new this Fall. And yesterday, I started something new, too.

In my quest to keep myself writing and move toward my goal of getting something published, I enrolled in a fiction writing course at NYU. Class started yesterday afternoon. You may remember, dear readers, that I began taking fiction writing last winter term. However, the writer/instructor was, shall we say, difficult with little if any sense of teaching/learning strategies. In other words, instead of the class providing an environment to dialogue, workshop one's writing, and critique peers' work, it was a forum for him to behave badly! To the dean's credit, she agreed with me, and she offered to transfer me to this Fall class with a woman writer who has been teaching at NYU for 18 years.

I set out from the Upper West Side wondering what to expect. Would the students all be young, struggling to get a foothold in Manhattan and, perhaps, working odd jobs just now? Would they be retirees with lots more time on their hands and lots of life stories to tell? Would it be all women( as so many of these writing classes are)?

The beauty of the day grabbed me--a Maxfield Parrish sky, deep blue with fat, white clouds. I walked from the subway stop toward 5th Avenue along 42nd Street past BB King's place , under the huge, glitzy canape of McDonald's, the American Airlines Theater. And then I reached 5th Avenue and 42nd. My class was just across the street. My class, dear readers, is just across the street from the New York Public Library.

Do you remember scenes from movies that take place in that magnificent building? I'm reminded of a fairly recent film with Harrison Ford aka Henry who had been a very successful ( and ruthless ) New York lawyer until he was shot in the frontal lobe by a robber. He re-learns everything, much of it through the help of his 12 year-old daughter. In my favorite scene, she takes her dad to the reading room of the New York Public Library where she needs to do some research. Harrison ( Henry ) starts throwing spitballs at her as he becomes bored since his reading level is, perhaps, junior high level, and so is his attention span.

The reading room is deep mahogany tables with green shaded lamps, and the walls, two stories high, are packed with books and maps and every type of reading matter. It is one of my favorite places in the entire world. A place where I can lose myself for hours in the shelves. Or spend a snowy winter's day writing in the quiet space, inspired by its homage to the word.


As I approached my classroom, I could see the reflection of the library in the glass doors.
A pretty good omen for my first day of class, wouldn't you say?

M.C.