Okay, I must add to the list: Laura Ingalls (besides her Little House on the Prairie books, she’s also responsible for a series of essays that are excellent), Gene Stratton Porter (specifically Freckles and Girl of the Limberlost, Joseph Campbell, Mark Twain, James Fenimore Cooper, Madeline L’Engle, e.e. cummings, Yeats, Cynthia Rylant, Robert Louis Stevenson, Homer (although it seems rather silly to add Homer because, let’s face it, he’s Homer, as in timeless, priceless, beautiful), and I’m still thinking of more. It’s impossible. I don’t know why I’m trying. Really, it’s a fruitless exercise, except to reiterate my feelings that one must be a reader before one can be a writer.
Some interesting articles, though:
Uganda Nabs 16-Foot-Long, Man-Eating Croc! (It’s better than Mansquito, at any rate…which I am so tempted to watch)
Colombian Police Impound Pacho the Donkey, (That poor busted ass)
And finally, a micro-mini-excerpt from the sequel to Tiger Eye:
Artur vomited. Felt a paper bag around his mouth and Dean � Dean, who knew him so well � holding it for him, careful not to touch any part of Artur�s exposed skin, so careful not to abuse his spirit with more � more vision � more filth � more and more and more �
He could not stop heaving. Dean swore. He whispered, “We�ve run out of time, man. They�re back.”
Dean pushed the soggy bag into Artur�s hand and pulled the chain on the light bulb. Darkness swallowed them. A soft dark, like a blindfold, the prelude to a caress. Artur clenched his jaw tight, choking as his body continued to reject his mind�s violation.
Soooo cheerful. Okay, enough fooling around. I go write now like good girl.