Since our editor falls into the category of those who want to realize their life-long ambitions of entering into the literary field, we, here, at 4 Points Press, appreciate those people who, in the twilight of their lives, have already reached that goal. Of course, all of you know of a recent notable among these is the admirable Frank McCourt. Our editor counts herself as one of his biggest fans. Around the office and in our e-mails, she is constantly quoting him.

When we ask, "Gosh, what should I write about this month?" Back comes e-mail with a McCourtism quote. 'Everyone has a story to tell. Write about what you know with conviction, from the heart.' Dig deep and it will come, advised my editor, in her own aside. So, I checked out Mr. McCourt's Pulitzer Prize winning memoir, "Angela's Ashes", from the library, read it, then did some research on his personal life. I discovered a new friend and now I, along with my editor, count myself as one of Mr. McCourt's enthusiastic fans.

I guess I could think of a many writers who gained late recognition in their lives but I can't think of too many who did that as late as Mr. McCourt did. What held him back, I wondered. Certainly his talent was always there. "Fear," he intimated, in one interview. While teaching, McCourt wrote occasional articles for newspapers and magazines. But his major effort, a memoir of 150 pages that he churned out in 1966, remained unfinished. Through the years, he leafed through his students' transcribed essays. He found that they lacked polish, but somehow they worked in a way his writing didn't, he said. "I'm trying to teach these kids to write, yet I haven't found the secret myself," was his dilemma.

That night McCourt lay awake in bed, harvesting the bounty of his chronic insomnia. He visualized himself standing on a street in Limerick, and took an imaginary walk about. He looked at shops and pubs, noting their names, and peered through their windows. He read street signs and recognized people walking past. Oblivious to time, he wandered the Limerick of his mind, collecting the details of scenery and a cast for the book that festered inside him.

On Fridays the students read their compositions aloud. To draw them out, McCourt would read excerpts from his duffel bag full of notebooks. "You had such an interesting childhood, Mr. McCourt," they said. "Why don't you write a book?" They threw his own words back at him: "It sounds like there's more to that story; dig deeper…"

McCourt was past 50 and painfully aware of the passage of time. But despite his growing frustration at his unfinished book, he never tired of his students' work.

These young people have been giving you lessons in courage, he thought. "When will you dare as mightily as they have?"

It was October 1994. Frank McCourt, now retired, sat down and read his book's new opening, which he had written a few days before and still found satisfying. But many blank pages lay before him. What if I never get it right, he wondered grimly? Staring at the logs glowing in the fireplace, he could almost hear students' voices from years past, some angry, some defeated, others confused and seeking guidance. "It's no good, Mr. McCourt," he heard himself saying. "I don't have what it takes." Then Frank McCourt, author, heard the steadying tones of Frank McCourt, teacher: "Of course you do. Dig deeper. Find your own voice and dance your own dance."

He scribbled a few lines. "I'm in a playground on Classon Avenue in Brooklyn with my brother Malachy. He's two, I'm three. We're on the seesaw." In the innocent voice of an unprotected child who could neither comprehend nor control the world around him, Frank McCourt told his tale of poverty and abandonment.

In September 1996 Angela's Ashes hit bookstores. Within weeks McCourt received an excited call from his agent: his book was getting warm reviews and selling at an unbelievable rate. The most surprising call came on April 7, 1997, when McCourt learned that Angela's Ashes had received America's most coveted literary award: The Pulitzer Prize.

View by Genviev: As I stated at the beginning of my article, I not only appreciate but I admire those people who, in the twilight of their lives, pursue and then succeed in another career vastly different from their lifetime one. I originally read a rough draft of E-Book One, "The Oedipus Syndrome", a year ago, and gave it a thumb up. Then I read the first rewrite of it some six months later and gave it two thumbs up while asking for more insight into the psyche of the main character, Raf Frataleon, and his paranoid, sex-obsessed, alcohol addicted sister, Nicole. From then on, I lived with both of their shadows haunting me until the beginning of this year when I read the final rewrite and edit of E-Book One. They and the strong characters around them surfaced and jumped from the pages becoming part of my life; they took my breath away. I can't wait to follow them for the rest of their journey.

EDITOR'S NOTE:
Yes, it's true. I not only admire the work of Frank McCourt but I also hold a high regard for his courage in writing about a subject dear to my heart and one which has not been addressed for too long a time; child endangerment and abuse. In the twilight of his years, his tenacity in using a highly competitive field for his platform says volumes about his fortitude. Contact her on site; http://www.4pointspress.com or direct your email to the Editor.