Naked, Drunk, and Writing: writing essays and memoirs for love and money by Adair Lara. [an Amazon click]

Adair Lara was talking about her new book this past Wednesday at Book Passage, Corte Madera. (She also teaches classes there on occasion.)

I mentioned her appearance on Facebook (although I didn't drive across the bridge to see her) and added

Adair Lara wrote a column for the Chronicle ... until she didn't. I liked the column. Miss her.

A sample of her column work.

Fun thing about Amazon is that you can (often) poke into a book and see how it begins. On the first page of Lara's new book, I read

If I even think about writing, I find myself in the pantry eating cereal straight from the box. Writing is a scary, vulnerable, and in a way conceited act, one that says the words you set down are worth a stranger's time to read, and that this is a worthy use of your own time.

I may take Lara's book to Camp to read, even if I'm not intending to write a memoir any time soon. ...

Labels: books, commentary, people, writing

   posted by Sal Towse at  10:32 AM|| |