I could identify
with Kurt Vonnegut. He worked to
support his family and wrote before and after work for many years.
He started
writing in a genre he liked to read, and had some knowledge of.
After he finally
broke through, he managed his career very well. He found outlets for his writing that
paid. He kept writing books that
were successful. He was in touch
with students and their concerns, and didn’t seem like an old fart, to
them. He was irreverent, especially
towards politicians, but also towards businessmen, captains of industry,
salesmen, car salesmen.
Breakfast of Champions was as good as Slaughterhouse-Five. Of course, they were the same book.
I wish he’d
quit blowing smoke in people’s faces but addictions are hard to quit.
Brenda says I am
addicted to writing.
I do it every
day, and don’t get much positive feedback.
Do I get some
kind of private satisfaction from it?
Some rush particular to me?
Why do I keep it up? Am I
nuts?