When I set out to learn about my mother's bridge club, the Jewish octogenarians behind the matching outfits and accessories, I never expected to fall in love with them. This is the story of the ladies, their game, their gen, and the ragged path that led me back to my mother.
An old friend gave me some notes on my script over the weekend. They were fucking excellent. I know this because I didn’t get defensive. I didn’t curse her out. I didn’t start picking my face. I knew they were right. It was like having an infection and someone offers you antibiotics. You fucking take them. Great notes are like gold. They’re like a rope ladder, a nest of threads, clouds moving over the moon. Gratitude, Queen.
How well do you take notes?
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Betsy Lerner 
“How well do you take notes?”
Pretty damn well. They are always of value.
I have to go now. I’m hearing what sounds like gunfire right outside my building. That is notable, but it’s not the same kind of note.
I love getting feedback. I’ve been working with another author, and we read for one another, and there hasn’t been one instance where I didn’t gain something from her input.
That was me.
No different than a comedian testing out his material. Does it resonate? Did you hit the mark? I always appreciate feedback.