There are at least two reasons for my success as a professional writer. (And by “success” I mean my ability to convince CK to give me a check every couple of weeks in exchange for a bunch of words.)
The first is Pomeroy High School, where I learned the lost art of diagramming sentences (thanks, Mrs. Cox!) and to be much more painstaking in selecting the right word for the right occasion (thanks, Mr. Miller!).
The second? Reading National Review, which celebrates its 60th anniversary today. Regardless of your political leanings, it’s hard to argue against the quality of writing in its pages. While it’s been argued that the best education in the written word can be found at a fraction of the cost of your typical MFA by simply reading back issues of The New Yorker, I submit that an even better education can be had reading a single issue of William F. Buckley, Jr.’s magazine—particularly when he was still on the masthead.
National Review, wrote Buckley on November 19, 1955, “stands athwart history, yelling Stop, at a time when no one is inclined to do so, or to have much patience with those who so urge it.”
So should we all, it seems.
