I remember the first time I noticed the back flap of a book jacket as a kid forced to do a little summer
reading. I saw the author's black and white photo. Read the blurb and immediately took another book off the shelf and another to study the faces of total strangers.
I don't recall who they were or anything about them, but I do remember the distinct impression that they were not like me. I would never be a writer. My English teachers seemed to make sure I knew that with every swipe of their...
Published on July 27, 2015 07:28