Fitzgerald, in Volumes
When I was just out of college and wondering how I would ever become a writer, I used to sit in Kaldi’s Coffee Shop and Bookstore in Downtown Cincinnati drinking whiskey and copying F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby by hand into a notebook.
I’d never really taken any formal writing courses, save for a class here and there in college. Never enough to really learn structure or understand technique. And so as I found myself drifting in the world of journalism, I thought the best way to learn how to write would be to re-write the books that had captured my soul.
Today, I had to fight against buying these books. I already own all of Fitzgerald’s works, but I can’t ever seem to get enough of him.
So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.
