For Christmas in 1960, my Aunt Ella Mae and Uncle Joe Whitworth gave me a copy of Huckleberry Finn. To my recollection that was my first exposure to Mark Twain, the last of the three writers I would say influenced … Continue reading →
When painters or sculptors finish their artistic endeavors, they have something to display. When writers finish a project, they have a stack of typewritten pages, nothing they can frame for the wall or display on a coffee table. That’s why … Continue reading →
Probably the most influential writer in my life was Ernie Pyle, the Pulitzer Prize-winning columnist and war correspondent for Scripps-Howard. Of course, he died at the end of World War II before my birth, but I could find his collected … Continue reading →
Writing is a solitary occupation, just you and the blank screen or, before word processors, the blank page. Some would say reading is solitary as well, but I would disagree because you get to meet such interesting people, either the … Continue reading →