The Cult of George SingletonIntroduction
Julianna Baggott
I’ve heard tales all of my writerly life. Bunyan-esque stories. A wild man. A giant personality. A trickster, a wise-ass, a snake-handler, a Guggenpulitzheimer recipient, a bawdy drunk, a newly avowed teetotaler, a genius, a madman.
I seemed to be literarily doomed to the role of following him. If I showed up to give a reading, invariably George had just blown through town. I knew that—by comparison—my readings were tame. It was like the audience had just been treated to the spectacle of a man-versus-bear wrestling match, and now I showed up with a tubercular parakeet in a cage who couldn’t much sing, what with its little parakeet coughs.
Read the entire feature here:
http://southeastreview.org/singleton/
Find out more about the MFA Writing Program at Greensboro here:
http://mfagreensboro.org

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