I’ve always been entertained by people who have a last name that sounds like a first name. My absolute favorite though, is people who have the same first and last name, like the poet William Carlos Williams. I can imagine exactly how that sort of thing happens. I had to fill out paperwork right after giving birth, and let me tell you, my children came really close to being named Dill Dill.
Anyway, speaking of William Carlos Williams, I heard a story about him that’s too good not to repeat. I’ve never seen this story written anywhere and I can’t remember who told it to me. To be clear: I’m about to spread gossip about a dead guy.
William Carlos Williams was not the sort of poet who spent his life locked in a room writing poetry. No, dude had a day job. He was a doctor, and apparently worked as one until his death. This should be pretty familiar to anyone who is creative; we live a sort of dual existence. Perhaps Bill Bill (if I may call him that) realized how work shapes and transforms art. Anyway, back to the rumor. Supposedly the brevity of Williams' poetry is due to the fact that he wrote them on prescription pads.
I think sometimes I forget that not all artists want to do their art as work, and that's okay. It's okay to create for the joy of creating, or because there's this thing you just have to express, or just on a whim. Being paid to create doesn't make you more or less of an artist.
Which is a good thing since I write for free.
Good grief, I almost forgot. I finished Murder In the Ferns, did one last round of editing and formatting and . . . here's the free e-book.
Click to download.
imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">![]()
Anyway, speaking of William Carlos Williams, I heard a story about him that’s too good not to repeat. I’ve never seen this story written anywhere and I can’t remember who told it to me. To be clear: I’m about to spread gossip about a dead guy.
William Carlos Williams was not the sort of poet who spent his life locked in a room writing poetry. No, dude had a day job. He was a doctor, and apparently worked as one until his death. This should be pretty familiar to anyone who is creative; we live a sort of dual existence. Perhaps Bill Bill (if I may call him that) realized how work shapes and transforms art. Anyway, back to the rumor. Supposedly the brevity of Williams' poetry is due to the fact that he wrote them on prescription pads.
I think sometimes I forget that not all artists want to do their art as work, and that's okay. It's okay to create for the joy of creating, or because there's this thing you just have to express, or just on a whim. Being paid to create doesn't make you more or less of an artist.
Which is a good thing since I write for free.
Good grief, I almost forgot. I finished Murder In the Ferns, did one last round of editing and formatting and . . . here's the free e-book.
Click to download.
imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">