I loved this story. Finish the book! As a Northern Michigander I feel every bit of that story and I hate to hear you say you can’t finish it. I believe both in you and the power of the story. I too have a story I have wanted to write and keep stepping back so you have given me the courage.
Oh, thank you for this! Sorry it took me a couple of days to get to it. This is so evocative. It makes me think of my grandmother, who wrote a whole series of memoirs about her childhood growing up as a preacher's kid in poor parishes all over the Midwest. The first was called Faith and Fried Potatoes, and reading it I experienced viscerally what it was like for her to live in sod houses and weather the demands of an "upstanding Christian life" in the face of grinding poverty. Not only did it show me that that sort of life mattered, but it provided me a window into where I come from which was an incredible gift. Much greater than any of the carefully folded Guidepost articles that she insisted on sending me throughout my childhood, which meant nothing to me at all. Her writing allowed me, as all good fiction does, to inhabit her, which the reality of her made difficult.
I am also sorry that you will never finish this book, but I'm so glad you shared it here. Thank you, again!
I loved this story. Finish the book! As a Northern Michigander I feel every bit of that story and I hate to hear you say you can’t finish it. I believe both in you and the power of the story. I too have a story I have wanted to write and keep stepping back so you have given me the courage.
Oh, thank you for this! Sorry it took me a couple of days to get to it. This is so evocative. It makes me think of my grandmother, who wrote a whole series of memoirs about her childhood growing up as a preacher's kid in poor parishes all over the Midwest. The first was called Faith and Fried Potatoes, and reading it I experienced viscerally what it was like for her to live in sod houses and weather the demands of an "upstanding Christian life" in the face of grinding poverty. Not only did it show me that that sort of life mattered, but it provided me a window into where I come from which was an incredible gift. Much greater than any of the carefully folded Guidepost articles that she insisted on sending me throughout my childhood, which meant nothing to me at all. Her writing allowed me, as all good fiction does, to inhabit her, which the reality of her made difficult.
I am also sorry that you will never finish this book, but I'm so glad you shared it here. Thank you, again!