Gary V. Powell, Author

I just finished reading "Raymond Carver: A Writer's Life" by Carol Sklenicka (on the Kindle I received from Mary for Christmas). I'm still trying to absorb it all, still trying to work it all out. Ray Carver, in so many ways, has been such a big part of my life that reading this biography of him has left me strung out, depleted, hung over with emotion.

I discovered Ray in the early 1980s when I was working as a young lawyer at Northwestern Mutual and raising a young family. I'd decided, at age 30, that if I was ever going to get serious about writing, it was time to do so. I signed up for a creative writing workshop--it was a terrific workshop with a lot of quirky, talented, hard drinking writers--at Marquette. I attended a couple of nights a week for two or three years. I made some great friends, shared some good stories, and had some great times. I started to believe that maybe I had the natural talent and could acquire the skills to be a writer. Some people I respected took me seriously and encouraged me to take myself seriously.

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