Robert Tucker, Author
  • Home
  • About
  • Journal
    • Updates
  • Updates

Journal

   

                                                                                A Not So Lonely Life

Over the years, I've seen numerous comments about how writers sequester themselves away and lead a lonely existence honing their craft. I think all writers have their favorite place and environment in which to work with a sense of privacy that encourages and supports their creativity. Although I've had several different places, including a living room easy chair with our cat snuggled beside me, mine is my home office. 

Arriving at this place has taken me through memorable growing up, family, and career events and meeting many interesting people. These all have influenced me in various ways as to sources and ideas that became stories.

My road to writing is similar to others. We all draw on our life experiences and observations of society and the world. What is really interesting is how many different stories, styles, forms, and perspectives we create to arrive at some meaningful result to which our audiences relate and respond. Making those connections is gratifying and I think is the driving force as to why we write.

I would like to use my blog journal as an opportunity to share some insights on books and have interactive discussions with others and their experiences and my perspective that writing may be a not so lonely life

The Times and Social Conditions That Influence Julie To Become A Revolutionist

10/24/2017

0 Comments

 
Urban Poverty Early 1900s
 
During the early 1900s, waves of immigrants from Europe and Asia settled in major American cities. Met with hostility from native-born Americans in competition for jobs, they were forced into poverty stricken ethnic neighborhoods and into dilapidated multi-family tenements. Witnessing such squalor in the Chicago slums plants the seeds of Julie Josephson’s revolutionary fervor nurtured by the Holtzman family’s involvement in union organizing.
 
Excerpt
 
         Sophie and Julie matched his quick stride and they left the main street for dank ghetto side streets and alleyways.  Without Matias and Sophie at her side, Julie would have been completely disoriented and lost.  They appeared to be familiar with the narrow passage through a nightmare of rough threatening neighborhoods punctuated by the curses of bearded besotted men and  raised voices of haggard women against a backdrop of shrill screams and the cries of children. 
    They finally slowed deep within the slum of encroaching dilapidated wooden apartments odorous with mold and the stench of charcoal fires and burning garbage. Tattered clothing hung from open windows between neighboring tenements on shared lines strung across the abyss of squalor below.  Matias stopped before a closed wooden door and rapped sharply three times with the back of his gloved right hand, paused, then rapped again.  A few moments passed, then a narrow slit the height of a man slid open from inside and a single eye black, luminous as a drop of oil, peered out darting back and forth and up and down assessing who stood on the threshold. 
       After another moment, they heard the squeak and grind of a heavy metal bolt thrown back and the door was pulled open.  Julie’s unasked question as to why only one eye had looked at them through the slit was answered.  The man’s eye patch and curly hair gave him the aspect of a pirate.
  
0 Comments



Leave a Reply.

    Categories

    All

    RSS Feed

    Archives

    February 2019
    December 2018
    November 2018
    October 2017
    July 2017

Proudly powered by Weebly
  • Home
  • About
  • Journal
    • Updates
  • Updates