Oh, how it makes one cringe to read a book on writing that one finds poorly written. So many exclamation points! So much self-effacement! And then, these almost poignant little paragraphs at the end:

Since John has died, I live alone. Like most people who live alone, I've taken to talking to myself—not to excess, I hope. But I've tried to notice what it is I generally say.

"I don't know" is what I generally say. Or, "Well, I don't know!" But then I also hear myself saying, so often that it surprises me, "Well, we had some fun."