This isn't one of the books that I've read but I was thinking about Ray Bradbury's short story when I read his interview in the Paris Review.
In my mind the time frame was magnified to fifty years. I reread part of the story again and found that it was only seven. But still, poor child.
This is what Bradbury says about writing:
"Style is truth. Once you nail down what you want to say about yourself and your fears and your life, then that becomes your style and you go to those writers who can teach you how to use words to fit your truth."
He didn't go to college, but instead, went to the library, where he graduated after ten years of three-night-a-week visits.
What I read almost makes me rethink about getting an MFA, but then I remind myself that Ray Bradbury had a wonderful wife who supported him while he stayed at home and wrote stories. He went to New York and shopped what would become his first book around because his first child was about to be born.
I still feel like I need a space of time where I can immerse myself completely in reading and writing. So for now, I'm still going for that MFA.
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