gstein

The truth is, I wanted to be an English major and teach... Chaucer, Byron, Shakespeare, Pope, Hemingway, Caldwell, Faulkner, Steinbeck, Hugo, Pound, Fitzgerald, Williams etc etc etc etc...

In Senior English she told me that I had talent.

I've read everything worth reading.

I dabbled and was even published.

In Comp 101 she told me I had talent.

Happened to meet Conroy not too long after his Daufuskie termination. Now he had talent.

In Lit 201 he told me I had talent.

But I discovered that calculus and physics and chemistry and engineering mechanics paid better than teaching Wolfe and Lee and Milton and Austen and Susann and Frost and Donne and etc etc etc etc.....

I chased the money. I sold my soul to write PowerPoint slides about stuff which today no longer matters and no one remembers.

Now I've found my way to here where I attempt to redeem myself.

“Good writing is true writing. If a man is making a story up it will be true in proportion to the amount of knowledge of life that he has and how conscientious he is; so that when he makes something up it is as it would truly be.”
- Ernest Hemingway | On Writing