Isaac Fitzgerald reads from American Rambler: Walking the Trail of Johnny Appleseed, his memoir about following in the footsteps of one of America’s great folk heroes. In this episode, we discuss the book’s opening passage, learning how to write, and how walking became a way to write about family, loneliness, and home. Isaac also talks to Jon and Cory about:
- Putting “tension" in the bank to keep readers turning pages
- Polishing first lines to a high shine
- The benefits of writing an entire manuscript longhand
- Using voice memos and photos as notes
- Storytelling and the art of stand-up comedy
- Cutting the “throat clearing” from early drafts
Isaac’s passage, from American Rambler:
I’ve been drinking a bit less and praying a lot more than I used to.
Now, that’s not to say I’m drinking less than most people—I’m not—nor that a doctor would sign off on my lifestyle as a healthy one—they wouldn’t—but self-betterment has to start somewhere, and for me that means choosing sobriety occasionally. More often than I’m used to, which is to say more often than any sane person living in these modern times would want to.
As for the praying? It’s not that I’m praying some saintly amount, but it’s another habit I’m developing, a healthier one. Like most of my habits, I picked this one up from my parents—only to abandon it for decades—taking prayer out on semi-rare occasions like car accidents, late rent payments, or particularly bad hangovers. But over the past few years I’ve found myself doing it more and more, and not only when I’m in trouble. Sometimes in moments of happiness. Other times, contentment. Every once in a rare while, during a moment of peace, I find myself with my knees in the dirt reciting the Lord’s Prayer.
Which is what I’m doing right now—though it should be noted that I’m on my knees because I’m hiding behind a bush, and that this is very much one of those vintage “Oh shit, I’m in trouble” prayers, not one of contentment or peace.
On top of all that, yes, I’m sober at the moment, though I’d rather not be, as I’m trying to avoid a railway police officer—known as a bull—who is slowly but steadily heading my way, and the stress of the situation is getting to me.
In my mind, I put an emphasis on “And forgive us our trespasses . . .”
