So much happening, (and therefore) so little time
OK, so it's been several weeks since my last entry. Such is life. I have way too much to write about, but I am going to try to stick to one topic at a time.
In mid-November I took a couple of days to read a book that had been on my desk for almost a year: North by Frederick Busch. Busch is one of my favorite authors, and I relish the time when I am in the middle of any of his work, whether it is novel, short story, or essay. At about the halfway point of the novel, after I was stopping by reading the evening, I flipped to the back to read the author bio--you know, get an idea of what he is up to and what new works of his I have missed. Much to my dismay and great sadness, Busch died just before North was published. It was like a gut shot.
Back in 2000, as I was writing a critical thesis in pursuing my MFA in Creative Writing from Vermont College, I has the opportunity to interview Busch. He was as gracious and honest a person and a writer I could have ever had the honor of talking to. My thesis was on his use of Herman Melville as a fictional character in his astounding novel The Night Inspector. We spoke for close to two hours, and even the small glimpse I received into his passion of both subject and craft was, quite honestly, wholly intimidating to the wanna-be writer I was back then--and in some ways still am.
So now I wrestle with the dilemma of whether or not to seek for a journal or magazine that might be interested in publishing the interview. Either way, I strongly suggest anyone who likes good writing, or who is interested in the thoughts of the proverbial writer's writer, to seek out some of Busch's work.
In mid-November I took a couple of days to read a book that had been on my desk for almost a year: North by Frederick Busch. Busch is one of my favorite authors, and I relish the time when I am in the middle of any of his work, whether it is novel, short story, or essay. At about the halfway point of the novel, after I was stopping by reading the evening, I flipped to the back to read the author bio--you know, get an idea of what he is up to and what new works of his I have missed. Much to my dismay and great sadness, Busch died just before North was published. It was like a gut shot.
Back in 2000, as I was writing a critical thesis in pursuing my MFA in Creative Writing from Vermont College, I has the opportunity to interview Busch. He was as gracious and honest a person and a writer I could have ever had the honor of talking to. My thesis was on his use of Herman Melville as a fictional character in his astounding novel The Night Inspector. We spoke for close to two hours, and even the small glimpse I received into his passion of both subject and craft was, quite honestly, wholly intimidating to the wanna-be writer I was back then--and in some ways still am.
So now I wrestle with the dilemma of whether or not to seek for a journal or magazine that might be interested in publishing the interview. Either way, I strongly suggest anyone who likes good writing, or who is interested in the thoughts of the proverbial writer's writer, to seek out some of Busch's work.