Join our Mailing List!
Please click the link below to sign up for your community paper mailing list. Stay up to date with all the events going on in your community as well as the latest news.Sign Up Today!
Publishing my story has been lifetime in making
I’ve had few regrets in my life. There are the superficial ones: I never saw the Beatles or Jimi Hendrix, nor did I learn to play a musical instrument (probably not so superficial).
I didn’t think I’d ever become a journalist (having chosen to teach journalism), but that one’s coming true thanks to The Republic, Graphic and Herald.
But what’s my biggest, most bittersweet regret? The one I can do nothing about. I dreamed of publishing a book. That’s happening alright, but my parents will never see it.
After a long 11 years, “Waking Up in the Studebaker” is available online at World Audience Publishers (www.worldaudience.org) in New York City and at www.amazon.com and www.barnesandnoble.com. The Raven in Lawrence and the Oread Bookstore on the University of Kansas campus should have copies soon, as will the Borders Books & More stores in Lawrence and at 91st Street and Metcalf Avenue.
Although Mom saw the book as a thesis for my creative writing master’s degree through Antioch University, she never saw the much different finished version.
“Waking Up,” book one of a two book memoir, takes the reader from my earliest memories from about 1955 through to my entering high school in 1968. I chose to halve the expansive thesis and concentrate on stronger character development.
Former Paola resident Phil Scott first put this idea in my head in 1994, when my daughter, Erika, and I were visiting Phil in New York City. He had said, “Gray, you were there (the 1960s). The music, civil rights, the war protest, the times — you lived them, man — you need to get all that down on paper. Why not write a book?”
Anyone who sat in my Paola High School classes or my Fort Scott Community College classes may recognize a few stories. Long before I began writing the book, I had modeled assignments for or alongside my novice writers. The book became a natural extension of what I had already been doing.
No doubt, a few people may find fault with my narrative. I really didn’t leave anything out. What a screw up I had been! I hated school until 12th grade. I did so poorly in the grades, but I still read a lot, especially newspapers.
I tried to limit the cussing in the pages and found I wasn’t being true to my characters or myself. Right or wrong, this is my story. My inability to slow down drove me crazy at times and almost got me killed one July evening.
My mother never lost faith in her only child, either. For this reason, it’s just not the same without my folks being here to see and read the book. Mom asked me, “How’s your book coming?” in our last conversation before she passed in January 2007.
If I could only place a copy in her hands and tell her, “This one’s for you and Dad after what I put you two through!”
printable version
e-mail this story
I didn’t think I’d ever become a journalist (having chosen to teach journalism), but that one’s coming true thanks to The Republic, Graphic and Herald.
But what’s my biggest, most bittersweet regret? The one I can do nothing about. I dreamed of publishing a book. That’s happening alright, but my parents will never see it.
After a long 11 years, “Waking Up in the Studebaker” is available online at World Audience Publishers (www.worldaudience.org) in New York City and at www.amazon.com and www.barnesandnoble.com. The Raven in Lawrence and the Oread Bookstore on the University of Kansas campus should have copies soon, as will the Borders Books & More stores in Lawrence and at 91st Street and Metcalf Avenue.
Although Mom saw the book as a thesis for my creative writing master’s degree through Antioch University, she never saw the much different finished version.
“Waking Up,” book one of a two book memoir, takes the reader from my earliest memories from about 1955 through to my entering high school in 1968. I chose to halve the expansive thesis and concentrate on stronger character development.
Former Paola resident Phil Scott first put this idea in my head in 1994, when my daughter, Erika, and I were visiting Phil in New York City. He had said, “Gray, you were there (the 1960s). The music, civil rights, the war protest, the times — you lived them, man — you need to get all that down on paper. Why not write a book?”
Anyone who sat in my Paola High School classes or my Fort Scott Community College classes may recognize a few stories. Long before I began writing the book, I had modeled assignments for or alongside my novice writers. The book became a natural extension of what I had already been doing.
No doubt, a few people may find fault with my narrative. I really didn’t leave anything out. What a screw up I had been! I hated school until 12th grade. I did so poorly in the grades, but I still read a lot, especially newspapers.
I tried to limit the cussing in the pages and found I wasn’t being true to my characters or myself. Right or wrong, this is my story. My inability to slow down drove me crazy at times and almost got me killed one July evening.
My mother never lost faith in her only child, either. For this reason, it’s just not the same without my folks being here to see and read the book. Mom asked me, “How’s your book coming?” in our last conversation before she passed in January 2007.
If I could only place a copy in her hands and tell her, “This one’s for you and Dad after what I put you two through!”