Has it really been this long?
This Sunday will be my fifth anniversary with several Arkansas papers. But I have to look all the way back to 2007 for the beginning of my column-writing adventure. That's a long time for a "rookie" daring to take a chance!
Often, at speaking events — first, in Texas and, now, in Arkansas — there is a Q&A period at the end. Without fail, one question always arises…"How did you get started writing/get published?"
You readers who have attended these events know my story by heart — especially, the little "funny" I tell at the end. So, don't worry about hurting my feelings; you have my permission to move on to the next article and leave my story for "newer" readers. If you haven't heard it, here it is in its entirety.
Being more or less house-bound as caregiver for Freemon's mom, I decided 13 years ago to pursue my old dream of writing — locally — so I could write from my home office.
That November, I called the Fayette County Record in La Grange, Texas, for an appointment with the editor regarding "newspaper business," I vaguely explained.
Thursday, Nov. 7, a lady ushered me into a front office while explaining how busy Mr. Jackson was that morning. However, I was told he could see me a for a few minutes at 10 o'clock. He was prompt. After shaking his hand in greeting, I burst right out, "Mr. Jackson, my name is Brenda Miles and I'm here to become your new feature columnist." His expression revealed he was stunned by my boldness and he remained standing while politely stating the paper could not take on a new columnist at the time. Undaunted, I asked if he would at least allow me to read a sample of my writing.
"You can just leave your resume with me," he answered. "I don't have one, Sir." "Which papers have you worked for in the past?" "None."
"Well, where did you study journalism?"
"Sir, I've never had a journalism lesson; I just like to write."
I realized the futility of my effort but gave it my last best shot. My voice beginning to tremble, I begged.
"Will you, please, listen to one sample column I wrote last night and tell me what you think?" He glanced at his watch and said "OK; if it is short." As I began to read "Mrs. Scudder's Library," he slowly eased into his chair. When I was finished he leaned across his desk.
"Would you say this is typical of your writing style?" "Yes, I grew up in a small town and have always kept a diary so I just write about things I remember mostly. I guess you'd call it 'nostalgic' writing." He thought for a minute and finally spoke. "Would you consider a six-month trial period?" I tried to conceal my excitement and control my urge to jump atop his desk and scream, "Yesssss!"
During the following hour he took down personal information for his files, arranged for a head shot for my first column to run the following Friday. I was told to keep my column length to 800-850 words and to avoid writing about ethnic situations, religion and politics. By lunchtime, his first assistant had named my column for me — "Miles of Memories."
Six months passed and people had begun writing the paper… and, later, writing to me when I added my email address. I got to stay and I'm still on the front page of the WEEKEND section today!
At the beginning of my second year I dared submit a column that broke all the rules I was warned about in our first meeting: It went way over my word limit. The subject was my childhood friend/babysitter, Willie Mae, who was black (ethnic.) In this piece, I spoke of how she loved the Lord and taught me to memorize scripture (religion.) In 1957, I asked her what she thought about the Central High School
integration 'thing' going on up in Little Rock (politics.) By the way, I have never forgotten her answer…
"Well, Sugar, there's all kinds of people in this world — we've got good peoples and we got bad peoples. Now, when bad people mixes with other bad peoples, nothin' good's gonna ever come out of it. But when good peoples mixes with other good people, ever'thing's gonna'turn out just fine."
She paused then and hugged me to her breast while adding, "Guess we know which side we on — right, Baby?"
To my amazement, Mr. Jackson ran this piece and I received a LOT of good email — nothing negative — and it won my first award from the South Texas Press Association. When I asked him why he'd run it when it went against all the rules, he answered, "It was all in the way you said it." At my readings, I use this little joke to emphasize his point…
Antoine and Boudreaux were shrimpers in South
Louisiana. Boudreaux's wife had a new baby and Antoine's wife suggested they go see it the following week, but she warned, "Antoine, I hear dis bebe born wid no ears and I do NOT want you to mention dat!"
"No, M'Chere, of course not."
When they arrived, they were ushered to the bedroom where the baby lay sleeping. Antoine spoke.
"SURE a pretty bebe, Boudreaux!" the father proudly smiled.
"But, tell me, Boudreaux, does dat bebe sleep good at night?"
"Yeah, he sleep real good."
"Does he eat good?" "Oh, yeah — eats real good."
"Does de bebe
SEE good?"
"Oh yeah, eyes follow my finger…"
"Well, dat's good," Antoine broke in, "Cuz he never gonna' be able to wear no EYE GLASSES!" It is ALL in the way you say it!