is one of my favorite things to read each morning. Today comes the news that it's Larry Brown's birthday. Larry Brown of course, died last year at 53, of a heart attack. The couple times I met Larry he was funny as hell and usually drunk. I think it was cause he missed his wife when he was out on the road. Or maybe it was cause he was shy and the idea of appearing in front of hundreds of people at a bookstore was daunting. Whatever the reason, he was, but he never was miserable or ugly, which is more than I can say for some non-drunk guys I've met who thought they were God's gift to women...or men...or goats.
Larry Brown's stories about learning to write should be required reading for anyone wanting to learn the craft.
He said, "There's no such thing as a born writer. It's a skill you've got to learn, just like learning how to be a bricklayer or a carpenter."
His story Falling Out of Love begins, "Sheena Baby, the one that I loved, and I were walking around. It was late one evening. All the clouds had gathered up into big marshmallows and mushrooms, and it was an evening as fine as you could ask for, except that we had two flat tires on our car some miles back down the road and didn't know where we were or who to ask. We were about ready to kill one another."