PREFACEWhen I was nine someone gave me a blank diary. Idon’t remember who. It was pure white and had a smallgolden lock that opened with a small golden key that wasalso meant to re-secure the lock, but never did. I loved thatdiary. I remember very distinctly knowing it was the best giftI’d ever received. I filled it with stories about princesses andkings, about horses ridden by girls whose fathers drovearound in fancy cars. I wrote about things that were nothingabout me.When I was eleven a poet came to my school to teach aclass for several days. She was called a poet-in-the-school, aspecial guest, a rare occurrence. Every minute she spoke itwas like someone was holding a lit match to the mostflammable, secret parts of me. One day the poet-in-the-school explained what metaphors were and then asked us towrite a whole poem composed of them. I was a lion. I was an
icicle. I was a kaleidoscope. I was a torn-up page. I was glassthat other people took to be stone. Another day she told us wecould write poems about our memories. She asked us to closeour eyes and think for a while about when we were younger and then open our eyes and write. I wrote about runningdown the sidewalk in what I called “beautiful, filthyPittsburgh” in my paint-speckled sneakers when I was five.A week later the principal summoned me to his office.When I arrived he explained from behind his big desk thatthe poet-in-the-school had showed him my poem. “You’re agood writer!” he exclaimed. His name was Mr. Menzel. Hewas the first person to ever say this to me. He handed me acopy of my poem and asked if I would read it out loud to himand I did, mortified but also happy. After I was done readinghe said it was surprising that I’d described Pittsburgh as being beautiful and filthy because most people would think itcould not be both things at once. “Keep writing, Cheryl,” hesaid.
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Torch by Cheryl Strayed - Preface to the Vintage Books Edition
In her debut novel, Torch, bestselling author Cheryl Strayed weaves a searing and luminous tale of a family's grief after unexpected loss. In the preface to the Vintage Books edition, Cheryl discusses what drove her to write the book.
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