It’s my fortieth anniversary, and so many people write to tell me they love my “memoir” pieces, that I decided to do a long piece on my “origin” as a writer.
Don’t worry. It doesn’t start with a radioactive spider bite or anything like that. It began with an injustice.
And the desire to please a girl.
Life is funny that way: it waylays you when you least expect it. Destiny often arrives seeming as homely as a street sign or as ubiquitous as a grass lawn.
Because it is a LONG piece, and uses a few words that Management frowns on, I’m just going to link to it, rather than attempting to reprint it here.
So, I can promise you some special auctorial fireworks and at LEAST two actual explosions!
SUCH A DEAL!
On the muscle of my arm there’s a red and blue tattoo
Says, Fort Worth I love you.
~ Michael Martin Murphy
The tale is entitled ‘As I Enter My Fifth Decade as a Writer‘