The key to understanding my writing career is realizing that I’ve written for the Atlantic and the Paris Review without ever reading them
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No knock on them, but I just watch old wrestler interviews, MMA heavyweight fights, and muscle posing all day long
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I remember in grad school people being excited about this historian or that one but I had a brother who could pull an engine out of a truck and get it into a boat and get us out on the Roanoke River that same day, so I dngaf. The paychecks for history prof were so-so
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Seems like every profession offers the seduction of finally making you part of a cohort. Of course I don’t know whether resisting that makes anybody happier, but giving in only feels good for a while
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