Baldwin, James

Of all the sentences I have read, these remain my favorite (despite the punctuation problems).

From “Sonny’s Blues”

 “These boys, now, were living as we’d been living then, they were growing up with a rush and their heads bumped abruptly against the low ceiling of their actual possibilities.”

2016 – James Baldwin’s short story Sonny’s Blues represents a time in America where getting a decent job was really difficult for African Americans. 

Baldwin, James. “Sonny’s Blues.” The Oxford Book of American Short Stories. Ed. Joyce Carol Oates. The Ontario Review: New York, 2013 Google Books 482-514 Web. 8 Mar 2016.


It’s a Good Day to be a Writer

Sometimes a kind word can send us flying.  Sometimes a negative comment can flatten us.  These egos play a huge part in who we are, how our writing develops, and what we strive for in our careers.  My ego is no different.  You see?  I have never had a rejection letter of any kind.  Never.  I’ve been at this writing gig for about eighteen years.  Right now, my ego is feeling pretty puffed up.  I just submitted chapter two of a story that I wrote from another fiction class, and the teacher wanted to see chapter one because she was so curious about the story. She wanted me to publish it for the whole class to read.  I’ve never had that happen before.  It’s proving to be a good day for me as a writer.

I’ve been published in the school paper a few times.  I’ve written for one of the school’s Web sites.  Locally, I’ve had a few things published in the newspaper and other places around town.  And, I’ve never had a rejection. . . . Yes.  It’s a good day today for me to be a writer.

Would I recommend my path to anyone else?  Absolutely not.  This is the one I walked.  It only works for me.  The teacher I had at Long Ridge Writers Group told me when I graduated, “You’re ready now.  Go!  Get published!  Make good!  You will make it.”  But, I wanted more.  I didn’t have a handle on structure.  I didn’t have a handle on grammar.  I didn’t know why my writing worked or didn’t work.  None of it made a great deal of sense to me.  I felt like the grand masters in the writing world knew secrets about the craft that I would never be let in on.  It drove me . . . (Read more here)