My friend Matt wrote a book

See, Matt, I told you I’d write a blog post about you. Be careful what you wish for.

If you know Matt, you are fully aware that he wrote a book as a part of his “Making a Book” class at the University of Toronto, since he’s been talking about nothing but for the past eight months. (Kidding, Matt. You wrote a whole book. You’re allowed to talk about it.) If you don’t know Matt, then you can learn more about the book and his experiences here. The book was published, and I bought my copy off of him yesterday.

Holding a for realizes physical published copy of a book written by someone you know is such a strange experience, let me tell you.

Matt is my friend and this is a very big deal, so I thought I’d comment on it. Also one time when I had writer’s block and asked Matt what I should write Marecredi about that week, he half-jokinly said to write about him. Or at least I’m interpreting it as half-jokingly, because otherwise this post might come off as certifiably creepy.

First of all, it’s a very pretty looking book so I’m happy to add it to my shelf. If anyone asks me about it I’ll probably play it off as a collection of writing from a 16th century Italian philosopher who also discovered the cure for polio on the side which I read because I’m super sophisticated.

(Kidding, Matt.)

I won’t give much in the way of a review, because I haven’t finished the whole book yet. But I will say that so far, the writing does this really wonderful thing where it gets the point across while also never telling the full story. The book somehow makes you yearn for what happens next, yet also leaves you content. Because that’s how life works: stories and memories and moments are always unfinished, and the feelings you feel and the experiences you have aren’t wrapped up nicely in a final sentence. It’s incredibly real and relatable.

Matt, it feels weird to say I’m proud of you, because I am neither your grandmother nor your third grade school teacher. Also because I’ve only known you for a little over seven months. But regardless of any of that, you wrote a book, a whole book, AND got it published, and that’s pretty damn cool. That is something that so many people, including myself, dream of but never accomplish, and you’ve done it before your 23rd birthday. Holding your book in my hands makes me want to push myself to be able to one day hold my own book in my hands, sooner rather than later. Keep doing you, because you is doing pretty well.

(Note to self: brush up on grammar before beginning to write.)

OKAY I’m feel super creepy and have been contemplating deleting this post every second that I’ve been writing it so I’m just going to click “publish” and be done with it. But Matt told me to write about him so THIS IS WHAT HE GETS. And now you’re forced to returned the favour, Matt. HA.

But don’t post it on a Wednesday.

Wednesdays are mine.

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