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A Short Biography of Robert E. Howard by Rusty Burke Robert Ervin Howard ranks among the greatest writers of action and adventure stories. It has helped keep his work in the public eye for six decades since his death, but it has also obscured the astonishing breadth of his imagination, his talent for mastering a variety of genres and his ability to weave his magic in both prose and poetry.
Howard contributed his most celebrated work to the pre-eminent fantasy pulp magazine of the era, Weird Tales. That his stories were a consistent hit with readers of the time is not surprising, for he created thrilling, vividly realized adventures populated by colorful, larger-than-life characters.
He was a consummate and dynamic storyteller. Even after his death publishers continued for some time to publish his stories or reprint them under other by-lines. So enduring is the appeal of his work that over a half century later he continues to gain new fans, introduced to his tales through paperbacks, comics, and movies.
His work has also inspired subsequent generations of fantasy writers and a loyal following that has taken to cyberspace to spread the word. Isaac Mordecai Howard, presumably moved his wife temporarily to the larger community of Peaster to allow readier access to medical care during her pregnancy.
Isaac Howard was a country doctor, a profession that entailed frequent lengthy absences from home, and thus he may have wished to be certain that his wife of two years would have adequate medical attention when she delivered their first, and as it transpired, only child.
Isaac Howard seems to have been possessed of a combination of wanderlust and ambition that led him to frequently move his family in search of better opportunities. By the time he was eight, Robert had lived in at least seven different and widely scattered Texas towns.
Cross Plains in the s was a small town of approximately people, give or take a thousand. Like much of the Central West Texas region, though, it went through periodic oil booms that brought hundreds, perhaps thousands, of temporary inhabitants who set up camps just outside the town limits, jammed the hotels beyond capacity, and rented rooms or beds in private homes.
An oil boom could transform a sleepy little community into a big city in no time at all, in those days, and bring with it much social upheaval. The few extra thousand who swelled the population of Cross Plains managed to make it a far wilder and rowdier town than usual.
One resident recalls her family driving into town on Saturday night just to watch people, hoping fights would break out. Of the atmosphere in a boom-town, Howard wrote: Robert Howard attended the local high school, where he was remembered as polite and reserved.
To make pocket money he labored at a variety of jobs, including hauling trash, picking up and delivering laundry for dry-cleaners, working as a store clerk and loading freight at the train station. He had some close friends among the local boys, but none shared his literary interests, which had probably been nurtured from an early age by his mother, an ardent lover of poetry.
He was an avid reader, claiming even to have raided schoolhouses during the summer in his quest for books. While this story is no doubt exaggerated, it demonstrates his love of reading, a rarity in these outlying communities, most of which had no libraries, much less bookstores.
Howard devoured books at an extraordinary rate, astonishing his friends with his ability to pick up a book and turn the pages faster than they thought anyone could actually read. Yet later he could remember what he had read with perfect clarity. Near the end of his life, Howard wrote to the renowned fantasist H.
Lovecraft, with whom he corresponded regularly, about his favorite writers. A huge fan of poetry, Howard also sought out the verse of Robert W.
In addition to his reading, Robert Howard had a passion for oral storytelling.
It is well attested that he frequently told his stories aloud as he typed them, annoying his neighbors no end with the racket he often made right through the night. His buddies in Cross Cut also recall that he liked to have them play out stories he made up, just as he would later regale the literary friends of his adulthood with his more elaborate tales.
He seemed never to tire of telling stories, though generally he would not talk about material on which he was actually working. He told his friend Novalyne Price that once the story was told, he had difficulty getting it on paper. Sometimes, however, his oral tales would provide the inspiration for stories he would later write.
Howard also relished listening to others tell stories. His letters reveal how, as a young boy, he was thrilled and terrified by the ghost tales of the family cook, a former slave, and those of his grandmother.
He would also seek out old-timers and persuade them to share their memories of the pioneer days. Howard seems to have decided upon a literary career at an early age. Howard always insisted that he chose writing as his profession simply because it gave him the freedom to be his own boss: Personal liberty may be a phantom, but I hardly think anybody would deny that there is more freedom in writing than there is in slaving in an iron foundry, or working — as I have worked — from 12 to 14 hours, seven days a week, behind a soda fountain.
I have worked as much as eighteen hours a day at my typewriter, but it was work of my own choosing….An essay is, generally, a piece of writing that gives the author's own argument — but the definition is vague, overlapping with those of a paper, an article, a pamphlet, and a short torosgazete.com have traditionally been sub-classified as formal and informal.
Formal essays are characterized by "serious purpose, dignity, logical organization, length," whereas the informal essay is characterized.
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