As I have said on several occasions in this blog, I have known and been mentored by several of the most important writers in Appalachia. I have had published writers as friends, mentors, professors, and colleagues since I was in my early teens. I have written about several of those relationships and people on this blog over the last seven years. I have benefited greatly, in a variety of ways, by having known these people. I do not say that all of them have been glowing examples of the human race. One or two I have known have been many of the things most people work diligently to try to never become. A few others have been nearly everything decent, honorable, and caring humans strive to become. At least one of these relationships extends all the way back to the early 1970's. Others have only been my friends for a few years. Yet at least one of those brief friendships is one of my closest today. For a time I was a member of a group of Appalachian writers, both professors and students, which is thought of by many in the fields of Appalachian Studies and Appalachian Literature as having been one of the more significant groups of writers in Appalachia.
However, knowing numerous writers is, in general, a bit like knowing all of the dogs in your neighborhood or the racehorses at your favorite track. Some of them will bite without provocation. Some will be your best friend so long as you have food to eat, a warm house, or something to drink or smoke. Some of them will be winners. Some will always finish well behind the pack. Some will only be consistent consumers of favors and influence while others will be consistent producers of both great literature and fond memories. Over the last few weeks I have had occasion to be reminded of this for several reasons. I recently acquired a few books from the estate of a lesser known poet and newspaper writer in my area and most of those books had been autographed by their authors and given to the writer of whose estate I had managed to buy part. During her lifetime, she had known many of the most influential writers in the state of Kentucky. During my lifetime, I have done the same with a similar group of writers from both Kentucky and West Virginia. I also have a similar collection of books written, autographed, and presented to me by writers I have known. I even bought a wood stove once from one of the most famous Kentucky writers without anything other than home heating having ever been discussed between us.
Also during this recent period, I acquired four or five books written by two or three of my friends. One of those friends I have known since about 1995. The other I met just this past summer. One is an excellent writer. The other is not. I have been in fairly regular contact with both over the time I have known the later. The recent friend has provided me with warmth, friendship, and respect. The other, whom I have known much longer has been in contact on superficial levels and been less than forthcoming in many ways. The new friend, during the course of writing their third published book, sought my input and even included a piece of a great writer's production in that book to make a point. It was not the point I would have made with the same excerpt but I do know that my friend had never before seen that writer's work until they knew me and chose to use the work mentioned when I made them aware of it. They also listed me in the "Acknowledgements" page of the next book for having critiqued the previous book and for "providing a bottomless well of research material." The second writer, whom I have known considerably longer also published a couple of books recently which would have been better left in a manila envelope under a bed for some auctioneer, yet unborn, to include in a box lot at an estate sale. At some point, I offered this second mistakenly ambitious writer some constructive criticism pending their willingness to hear it. I never even got a response which in some ways did not surprise me. I refer you once again to my earlier metaphor about dogs and racehorses. The new friend has produced a well written, respectable book which will not likely ever be famous due primarily to that person's total aversion to seeking or achieving advantages by virtue of doing anything that is not modest and humble. But their work is likely to be kept in some bookshelves for the foreseeable future. The other produced a book which would, as I said earlier, have been better placed elsewhere other than in the public market. At about the same time this series of exchanges was transpiring, a third writer friend who works in several areas has been well reviewed by random strangers over the last several decades asked me to consider providing input on an upcoming book which leads me to believe that my input is not totally worthless.
To put all this in a neat little package, or at least as neat a package as possible, I will say that despite having been bitten and ravaged by fleas on a few occasions in addition to having been kicked, pawed, and dragged by several horses, I still pet strange dogs, admire and sometimes even bet on new horses, waste my time picking up strays, and have even paid to neuter two stray kittens lately. I will probably not stop expressing my opinions to writers whom I know and some I have still not met.
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