While researching agents and editors, publishers, wish granters, gate keepers and God, I came across a short story that is as beautifully written as the birth certificate of your first child. Amy Einhorn mentioned the story in a Poets and Writers interview. If she loved it why would I not try to find it?
Truman Capote’s A Christmas Memory.
What I know of Truman Capote fits
on the head of pin labeled Studio 54
and In Cold Blood. To me he was a swishy
talking, funny looking little man with a reputation as a writer I thought must
be a misnomer by way of a bestseller, which by chance, went stratospheric.
Oh-my-God, how can I call myself a writer? To have not gazed in awe at the
little man, who stood so tall and towered with words, makes me feel unworthy.
I’m sure the link doesn’t work so
copy and paste might have to do.
The story will stir your heart, the writing will blow your mind.
Truman Capote – Live on little man with the diminutive voice
which rumbles this writer's soul, live on.
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