All That Is Mine I Carry with Me by William Landay EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Author: William Landay
- Language: English
- Formats: PDF / EPUB
- Status: Available For Free Download
- Genre: Sisters Fiction
- Price: Free
- File Size: 6 MB
- Publish Date: March 1, 2023
After I finished writing my last novel, I fell into a long
silence. You might call it writer’s block, but most writers don’t use that
term or even understand it. When a writer goes quiet, nothing is blocking
and nothing is being blocked. He is just empty. I don’t know why this
silence settled over me. Now that it’s over, I don’t like to think about it. I
only know that for months, then a year, then two years, I could not write. It
did no good to struggle; the more I struggled, the tighter the noose became.
I could not write, then I could not sleep, then I could not bear my own
presence and I began to think dark thoughts. I won’t dwell on the details; in
my profession, there is a saying that a writer’s troubles are of interest only
to other writers. I mention my silent period here only because it is the
reason I wrote this book, for it was during this time, when I would have
grabbed at any plausible idea for a story, that I got an email from an old
friend named Jeff Larkin.
I have known Jeff since we were twelve years old. We met in September
1975 when we entered the seventh grade together at a very august and (to
me) terrifying private school for boys, and we became pals almost
immediately.
Let me say, I am uneasy about starting a book this way, with friends and
confessions about my childhood. I am not nostalgic for that time in my life.
I’m not even sure an honest account is possible. I do not trust my own
memories. I tell myself so many stories about my past, as we all do. Worse
—much worse—I don’t think a writer ought to insert himself into his stories
this way. It generally distracts more than it deepens. A writer’s place is
offstage. But what choice do I have? If I am going to tell this story, there is
no way around a little autobiography. So:
When I was in sixth grade, my teacher called my parents, out of the blue,
to suggest I was bored at school, which was certainly true. Had they
considered sending me to a private school? Someplace rigorous and rules-y,
where I would not continue to be (I will paraphrase here) a daydreamer and
a smart-ass. My folks had never thought of it. They had both gone to public
schools, and they presumed that fancy private schools were for Yankees.
But Mom and Dad grasped the teacher’s essential meaning: what I needed
was a swift kick in the pants.
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