Steinbeck

Everytime I pick up The True Adventures of John Steinbeck by Jackson J. Benson, I start daydreaming after a few paragraphs. This isn't because the book is boring. It's actaully really great and I like learning about Steinbeck's life and method. He destroyed everything he written unless it was published. He never wanted anyone to read the inperfections. If it wasn't good enough to be published, then it wasn't good enough at all. He reworked and reinvented his stories. We would spend years on certain novels and then wrote The Grapes of Wrath in a year. Before reading this biography of Steinbeck, I would have called him a genius, but he was just a man who wrote and never stopped writing because it was the process that was exciting and the stories never completed. So I start daydreaming about the process of writing in the middle of the paragraphs about Steinbeck's influential friends, theories and the progress of his life. My favorite of his friends is Ed Rickett. This is merely because he walked from Indianpolis to Georgia and when people asked him why, he responded he wanted to see the country. Everyone was suspicious of this so he started telling people it was to win a bet. Obviously, we have similiar interests. I wish I could write him a letter.

The funny thing is Steinbeck burned most of his work, which contradicts my last blog.
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