Ask the Author: David Grindberg
Answered Questions (4)
David Grindberg
Dad passed away in May. While cleaning out his house I found some old letters, seventy-two pieces of yellowed paper stacked neatly in an antique Fanny Farmer candy box. The edges are tattered, the paper fragile to the point of falling apart, the faded handwriting maticulous and beautiful. From the salutations and closings I can see that these were written by/to my great grandparents and that they come from the last three decades of the nineteenth century.
They're all in Norwegian...
I know just a bit of the language. Half of them are are love letters.
I have visited their graves many times. To me, Kristian and Paulianna Grindberg are little more than two names carved on simple stones. Then comes the candy box and its 140 year old secrets, intimacies shared between lovers and whispered in an unknown tongue.
I feel a memoir coming on...
They're all in Norwegian...
I know just a bit of the language. Half of them are are love letters.
I have visited their graves many times. To me, Kristian and Paulianna Grindberg are little more than two names carved on simple stones. Then comes the candy box and its 140 year old secrets, intimacies shared between lovers and whispered in an unknown tongue.
I feel a memoir coming on...
David Grindberg
I write every day...mostly for work. I am a preacher, so the majority of my writing is an effort to develop these crafts. I believe that preaching is, in the end, story telling. That's what I do...tell stories and do it to the best of my abilities.
David Grindberg
The only way you will fail is if you find yourself believing the people who tell you that you've failed. Stay the course. Don't believe your critics, because more likely than not, they're clueless.
David Grindberg
I stop trying. I get away from my desk, away from my computer, away my yellow legal pad and pencils, and take a walk or go for a drive.
Ideas are a gift and the words that give those ideas voice are illusive. They come in their own time and their own way. They can't be bought, made, or forced in their place. So when I can't find them, I stop trying. I walk away, and when I do I often find that they follow me, chase me, find me.
Ideas are a gift and the words that give those ideas voice are illusive. They come in their own time and their own way. They can't be bought, made, or forced in their place. So when I can't find them, I stop trying. I walk away, and when I do I often find that they follow me, chase me, find me.
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