Gratitude is on my mind. I’ve been reading back issues of the New York Times’ Letter of Recommendation for my writing class, followed by an assignment to write my own. The column came about when staff writer Sam Anderson “figured there was no shortage of places to find out what writers hate but, outside of pop music criticism, there were vanishingly few spaces for writers to talk about what they love.” There are tributes to dental floss, filet-o-fish sandwiches, diaries, shopping at the dump and erotic thrillers, but I was stumped. Where does my list start? Where does it end?
I'm grateful for my broom
I'm grateful for my broom
I'm grateful for my broom
Gratitude is on my mind. I’ve been reading back issues of the New York Times’ Letter of Recommendation for my writing class, followed by an assignment to write my own. The column came about when staff writer Sam Anderson “figured there was no shortage of places to find out what writers hate but, outside of pop music criticism, there were vanishingly few spaces for writers to talk about what they love.” There are tributes to dental floss, filet-o-fish sandwiches, diaries, shopping at the dump and erotic thrillers, but I was stumped. Where does my list start? Where does it end?