By Kim Vogel Sawyer
A Compelling Pioneer tale From Bestselling writer Kim Vogel SawyerFed up with the negative caliber of existence in 1880 ny, Tarsie Raines encourages her acquaintances Joss and Mary Brubacher to maneuver with their little ones to Drayton Valley, Kansas, a booming city hailed within the guidebook because the land of chance. She bargains to assist with charges and to take care of Mary and the youngsters as they go back and forth west via wagon educate. but if tragedy moves at the journey around the prairie, Tarsie is thrown into an association with Joss that leaves either one of them wondering God and their goals for the longer term. As their money dwindle and not anything is going as deliberate, will Tarsie and Joss quit and cross their separate methods, or will God use their time in Drayton Valley to show their hearts towards him?
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Fucking recession over here—god damned crap asses just don’t want to let go of the buck. they sit on manuscripts now and when they finally accept them they delay payment until eternity. I’m speaking of the short story field. [***] so anyhow, this old rat’s not dead yet. and the poems and stories keep popping out of my ears. this year I must have written 150 new poems, a novel and maybe 30 short stories.
So I’m glad you’re there, anyhow, even if you get your dates mixed up. I have a prejudice against teachers, but if the work is strong enough, fuck it. Bix is going to teach somewhere in Oregon in a few months, and he’s as real as catshit. [***] [To Carl Weissner] July 5, 1970 [***] all in all, I seem to be surviving; of course, your getting Meltzer to come through was a big spiritual boost, the shot I needed and I sat down and rapped out 3 or 4 dirty stories, immortal, and some other shit. there’s energy coming from somewhere because, for the time being, the days and the nights are mine, and if I fuck them up it’s not nearly so bad as somebody else fucking them up for me with a time clock, you know.
It doesn’t matter; I think you might even call it a fun-piece except the satire is the sharp exaggeration bit, you know, and believe he detests my style and my guts—which is going to happen to all of us at one time, and it is part of the rocks in the shoes. [***] as to the poetry writing, I am writing very good again after a kind of 2 years slump. which lasted from about Oct. 64 to Oct. 66. I do not mean that my poems were not being published, I mean that I did not care for them. now they come out full of butter and steel and my fingers hit the keys and it is easy.