Paperback Writer

To be completely honest, I don’t need to blog. I’m not taking you through a Julia Child cookbook with me, or reviewing the books I read. I’m just running my mouth, well…my fingers, for your reading pleasure. If there is such a thing as someone needing to blog, then it is my friend Nicole.

Nicole’s life has produced some of the wildest, funniest stories. Her husband and her father are slowly remodeling her house, one room at a time. Every day is filled with dry wall dust and the frustration of not being able to entertain properly in a living room with three walls, or a kitchen with no countertops. In her e-mails, she vents with a well-honed sense of humor and wry descriptions.

Also providing fodder for great story telling are her three sons. There are seven-year-old twins and an almost five-year-old. I so regret not hanging on to some of the e-mails Nicole sent me when her boys were younger. There were tales of a trip to Sea World that led one boy to a deep fear of dolphins, the misadventures of potty-training boys in a bathroom with shag carpet, and trying to get all three looking and smiling at the camera for the annual Christmas photo. Again, each story was told with dry wit tempered by a mother’s love. Not only did she leave me laughing, but shaking my head in wonder.

The thing is, Nicole has always been an excellent writer. Going back to middle school where we met, writing has always been part of our friendship. Nicole’s mother, who was our language arts teacher in seventh and eighth grade, always encouraged us to write because she loved to write. (Another classic story involves a teenage Nicole staging a coup and wresting creative control of the family Christmas letter from her mother).

With a love of writing drilled into us, and with our ability to write encouraged, Nicole and I attempted to write novels during summer vacation. During our first few years in high school, we channeled our energies into writing each other notes to be dropped into lockers or handed off to mutual friends. Even in those notes, Nicole’s dark humor is evident.

There is no doubt in my mind that, one day, when her boys are grown and her house is finally remodeled, Nicole and her husband will find (and remodel) their dream house in Maine. It will be there that she will finally put some of her ideas down on paper and a much larger audience will figure out what I’ve known for 20 years—this lady is an amazing writer.