What would Susie do? Write

About twenty years ago, I taught a class full of enthusiastic kids. It set a high bar and ruined me for the remaining years I spent in the profession. I met one of those kids, Susie, a couple of weeks ago for brunch. We agreed that we were both lucky to be at that school and with that cohort of students, and were both highly cognisant of our good fortune, then and now. The first half of the brunch was spent being grilled by this smart, focused, intently listening woman. What was my timeline after she finished school? How did this job fit with that job? Why am I making other people’s writing look good and not doing any of my own writing? How many dogs did I have? How old is my kid?

Wait. What?

Susie, who was a very good writer, and is a very good writer, came back to that writing question three more times over a glass of sparkling:

What do you mean you don’t have any ideas? You just had five ideas a minute ago.

I don’t agree with that. You wrote scripts and collaborated. What’s stopping you now?

And, I want you to send me 500 words on that. By the end of the week.

Why don’t I do any writing of my own? Gee, Susie. Can’t I just talk about my dogs with you?

The session wasn’t all about me. We discussed careers, egos, sign language, nuns, New Town and family. We reminisced about Good Will Hunting and To Kill a Mockingbird. I laughed aloud at her stories, and confessed to feeling rubbish about a bad teaching moment. We agreed that she was the 2IC of the class and relief teachers loved her. She told me her writing story. I wished we had ‘brunched’ together more often during those years.

And when it was time to leave we walked and talked more, to her meeting. I have hardly stopped thinking about the grilling, and yes, I did send her 500 words (by the end of the day) and received very kind feedback. I don’t know what will become of those 500 words next, but I have come to this point of realisation: Susie knows stuff.

And so, I write. Cheers, Susie.