1

Summer is ending and the autumn leaves are turning yellow and gold in the northern woods of Michigan.

I have just finished unpacking my clothes, books and other things I have brought from home, my first day on campus, when Forrest comes into the room and introduces himself.

I guess we’re going to be roommates, he says.

He is rather handsome with blond hair and a very appealing smile, open and easy going. While I tend to be more cautious and reserved with strangers during this period of my life.

We begin talking about the small Midwestern towns we come from. The subjects we are going to be taking during our freshman year at the University of Michigan. And our plans for the future.

I’d like to get into acting, Forrest says, but I know it’s a hard field to break into. I’m minoring in business administration so I’ll have something to fall back on. How about you?

I want to write. That’s my main interest.

What kinds of thing? Plays? Novels?

Fiction of some kind. Short stories right now. That’s all I’ve done so far.

A lot of people want to write. But there’s heavy competition there too.

That’s true of all the arts.

Do you think you can make a living writing and not lose your integrity as a writer?

I hope so. I’m not interested in writing a lot of junk just to make money, I reply. But I would like to make enough money writing so I can devote all my time to it.

I bet it’ll be tough!

Yeah. I suppose.

Our conversation continues even after we are in bed. Forrest has the lower bunk and I have the upper one.

What if you had to chose between your writing and a relationship with someone you loved? Forrest asks.

I hope I won’t have to make that kind of choice.

But suppose you had to.

I don’t know. One should be able to have both.

Suppose it’s not possible.

What would you do? I ask.

People are very important to me, he replies. Whatever else I do with my life, I don’t think I could ever live entirely alone.

Why not?

I just can’t imagine it.