Writers Are Like Women

I received some nice praise for this blog yesterday from a writer whom I greatly respect. He's an educator and the author of one of the funniest and sad books I read last year, the novel Kerouac's Scroll. The novel is a road-tripping remembrance of friendship and, well, the end of the road for two long-time pals.

Two old fellows decide, after one character's initial hesitation and self-examination, they should see the Smithsonian exhibit of the original scroll on which Jack Kerouac wrote his frenzied initial draft of On the Road. Guided by Kerouac's symbiotic spirit, they embark on a cross-country journey through America's heartland, and into the human heart. The story is both literary homage and a fending-off of that which would deaden a man's soul before his time, before his end, which is always too near. Quibbling, reminiscing, seething, and laughing on the road to D.C., these old ex-army buddies and expert raconteurs put a spotlight on the terribly personal issues of freedom, love, and finally, death.

Big themes, well wrought. It's a helluva story.

Sometimes I think writers are like women; they dress (write) for each other. That is why writers pen blurbs for others' book covers. If the endorsement sells books, fine. But what really matters when you think about it is that someone whose mind you respect understands and is taken for a moment into your world.

Understanding. That's what it's all about. Thank you Charles Deemer.

TS