Sunday, March 30, 2008
Since elementary school, I thought I never wanted to do anything but write- and read- and write. In fifth grade, when we had an assignment to write to our favourite authors, I sent what must have been a rather lengthy letter to Stephen King. His secretary, Janice Eugley, sent something back to the effect that unfortunately Mr. King cannot answer individual letters and write novels at the same time; she did answer my questions and provided the additional information that Stephen is a Red Sox fan and assists coaching his son's baseball team. Ms. Eugley also kindly included an essay on writing Stephen King had authored a few years prior. I've read them since then countless times and am still as embittered about not receiving a personal letter from Mr. King as I was when I was ten. Of all the children on the planet sending him fan letters, he should have stopped that production wheel for me alone.
Since coming to college, I have written little of value.
Labels: baseball, elementary school, Janice Eugley, reading, Red Sox, Stephen King, writing
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 4:21 PM]