Why I never became an English major
By the time I was seventeen, I knew I wanted to be a writer and assumed I couldn't support myself writing fiction. Off I went to UCLA, where the obvious major for a fiction-besotted creature would have been English. But I had spent the past year hanging out with some Beat writers in Venice, California, and was influenced by those who said "English major? Yeech! Take anthropology."
So I did, for two years, until I went off to the University of Missouri to get a degree in journalism. I came back to California, worked on a daily newspaper for a while, retired, got married and went back to UCLA for an M.A. in anthropology.
Scribbling
All the time I was scribbling, practicing, throwing it all away. It was not until the early 80s that I finally wrote something I didn't want to throw away—a literary novel, "Looking Glass." Next was "A Sword Wrought for Guile," a novel of Viking Scandinavia. Then "Bella Donna," a historical mystery.
"Looking Glass" was published in 1985 and is out of print. (I would be happy to mail a copy to anyone who is interested.)
"Bella Donna" was published in 2001 and sold most of its copies in the first six months. (It is now out of print. I've seen used copies listed on book sites like Alibris, and on Half.com.)
