Mike Coolbaugh: There’s Nothing Minor League About the Life He Lived 0
As a writer who seems to specialize in the “xoxo” of the game, I often set out on a journalistic journey of sorts when I put words to paper. Although my intention is a good one, the motive often becomes a concentrated effort to elicit a certain response.
I’m not sure if it is a gift or simply the willingness to open up my heart, but more often than not, my goal is to make my audience feel the sorrow associated with an event. To warm the heart by moistening the heart. To make my readers feel the pain that the participants in the story felt themselves and to relate it to their own life.
And then sometimes, the story is so incredibly sad all on it’s own, that I don’t need to say a word. I simply need to recount the events and let the reader feel on their own. Read the rest of this entry →