Grandpa Pettigrew

Originally uploaded by Carla216

It’s cleaning day. It’s discovery day. After sorting through papers for the past coupla hours, I discovered a letter an old mentor of mine wrote.

He’s a world famous author. When I was 10, we lived across the street from him. His wife made us tea, and we watched Ken Burns documentaries and talked about World War II and sailing. He gave me the first book which made me want to read, “The Count of Monte Cristo.”

I moved away a year later. We stayed in touch via email. When I graduated college, five years ago, he wrote me this :

“Zachary—I’d guess you are cut out to be a writer. Think you’d have the talent, brains, etc. Do you have what it takes to go down that long and lonely road which you have somewhat accurately foreseen? Who knows? I don’t. Neither do you. It ain’t an easy trip.

You’ll need to know what sort of writer you will be. Fiction or non-fiction. If non-fiction, a reporter of the world (a fine skill) or someone like George Orwell, and many others, who show us reality filtered through their own value system. If fiction do you pick one of then “genre” and within it, do your thing? Or do you try to appeal to the academics who control the world of literary criticism and sign up for whatever is the current darling of the English Professors?

Whatever you decide, I think you have to decide to write for two people. One is yourself, and one is that worthy reader to whom you wish to deliver your image, your vision of a street scene, your memory of two people getting acquainted. Early one, decide if you want to be published. If so you must face the reality of the world of publishing and aim at an audience large enough to provide some sort of sales…”

If I were to write, I hope to capture those Sunday afternoon of drinking tea and talking about the war with my neighbor.

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