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Show Inside Out, 19 Terra sighed. "Because I can only write about things that matter. And nothing matters anymore." "Oh," said Dr. Scofield. Terra waited. Dr. Scofield waited. Finally, he said, "I'm not really a writer, so I may be totally off the wall here, but I have a friend who is a poet, and she tells me that when she writes a poem, the thing she writes about comes to mean more to her. Maybe the mattering doesn't come until after you write about it." Terra didn't answer. Dr. Scofield said, "Well, I may not know what I'm talking about. But this is what I see. You think you might like to go. But you don't have any new writing to send. Why don't you send some old writing?" Terra shrugged. The idea of sending stuff from before felt sort of like lying, or maybe plagiarism. She wasn't the same person now as the person who wrote that stuff. "Well, think about it," he said. "I think you'd regret missing this opportunity if you let it go by. But you should only do what you really want to do, so it doesn't matter much. "And now," he continued, "I'd like to ask you about your parents. Would you feel comfortable talking about that?" Terra shrugged. |
