An Open Letter to the Sherwood Anderson Foundation
Giving money to writers is a good thing. It’s good because to live as a writer (artist) is to live “hand to mouth,” it’s to live a little short most of the time… unless good luck comes trickling down your way, 15,000 dollars, let’s say.
It’s well known that most artists lay buried under other artists who are buried under more. We create a veritable trash heap of music, painting, writing, photography, sculpture, theatre, ad nauseam. It’s also well known that to work one’s way up for a little breath at the top is a pernicious stroke of good luck.
My question to you, Sherwood Anderson Foundation, is how in the name of Henry Miller, William Faulkner, Ernest Hemmingway and Sherwood Anderson himself, do you justify the limitation put on receiving that lightning strike of good luck which is your grant? To me this rule (your only one): “To apply, you should have published at least one book of fiction or a collection of short stories in major literary and/or commercial publications. Self-published stories do not qualify.” — is a slap in