“No more Fuckin’ clichés”, Les Plesko
Although I hadn’t seen Les in years I felt a huge gap open in my heart upon learning of his suicide. Les had been my writing teacher at UCLA. As a writer Les could put words on a page with such clarity and precision that a reader could see the story unfold as if you watched it happen through pristinely clean glass.
As a teacher he taught the value of perfecting a story one sentence, one page, one word at a time. He gave me the confidence to not only say “I am a writer”, but to believe and live it.
The unwritten stories trapped in the minds of future writers have suffered a great setback in their release, but for those of us who learned from him we have his generous knowledge behind every keystroke snap.
I’m happy he knew I became a writer. I started this blog because of what I learned.I wish I would have published my novel. I imagined many times that toothless grin and crooked eye would have smiled. I wonder if he ever wore the swell (as he put it) T-shirt I sent him?
Suicide takes so much away, leaves us sad and questioning the true nature of a story itself ~what if~ and yet for Les this was his way…RIP
One morning while I was at Interbike I noticed this photo posted on the Facebook page of Kanani Fong; her tribute so beautifully written. Kanani’s words could not have been more touching or appropriate and I thank her for that.