To be honest, I don’t remember exactly how many years I’ve been writing for The Independent. I’m pretty sure I came on at some point in the first year, but don’t quote me on that. I was in St. George for the wedding of one of my many nieces, and I saw a distribution stand for the Indy in a restaurant. I was looking for a place to write book reviews–the paper I was writing for in the Salt Lake Valley wasn’t interested at the time–and I saw this little arts and entertainment paper called The Independent. I was excited to see an arts and entertainment paper in St. George–well in Utah, for that matter–because I’ve always known how much Utah has to offer the art world. I called before we left St. George. A couple weeks later, and few samples sent, and I was on my way. Within a relatively short period of time, under the eye of then editor Kevin Jones, I expanded to writing CD reviews. Being a musical dinosaur, most of them have been about old performers from classic rock’s golden age, who are still putting out new material–the dinosaur circuit.
I started my life with the Independent as a satellite. At the time, I was the only writer not living in St. George. Now there are a few other writers/contributors not living in St. George. But I still claim the privilege — honor? (you choose) — of being the farthest Independent satellite. It’ll take a while to beat me.
For me there has been two great blessings from writing for the Indy. The first was expanding my literary horizons. My personal favorite genre is sci-fi and fantasy, along with westerns and action/adventure novels. But I knew readers would rise up in arms if I stuck with that formula. I soon found a deep love for a quality memoir–often, these days–better than fiction. Others to add to the list are good historical books, and great general fiction such as Nick Hornby, Jan Karon, among others. I began reading humor and political books as well. I can’t get enough of P.J. O’Rourke and his heir apparent, Greg Gutfeld. And I’ve got boxes full of books stashed away still back in the States to read. (It cost too much to send them to Italy.) In the same vein, it’s blessed me by forcing me to constantly discover new authors.
The second blessing is being able to reach out beyond myself and share what I encountered and discovered through my reading. I hope in some way my writing has touched and elevated readers of The Independent during these past twenty years. Because in the end, that’s the best reason to write: to reach beyond your circle and personal world and touch others.
