E.B. White in Maine

I am working on a long-term writing project–employing the essay as the narrative form–and went to my book shelf to look up a quote. I took down Essay’s of E.B. White.  The line I was seeking was right where I left it. “The essayist is the self-liberated man, sustained by the childish belief that everything he thinks about, everything that happens to him, is of general interest.” I love White. A Google search includes this line: “…one of the greatest essayists of our time.” We, Google and I, are in accord: White was great. I read on to this sentence, a sentence which, I should point out, has garnered me great familial derision: “Only a person who is congenitally self-centered has the effrontery and the stamina to write essays.” I wish I could say that I don’t have the effrontery, nor can I muster the stamina to argue with “one of the greatest essayists of our time.” But I can’t.

And on that note: Please check out my essay at The Millions.