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What makes me a Missourian?

Unless you’re in love with Midwestern landscapes, as I am, once you’ve taken the interstate from Kansas City to St. Louis, you never need drive it again. After the first time, the familiar rolling hills and deep river valleys come at predictable points. The little creeks flow under the highway…

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The hotel room at the history conference

I love an empty hotel room. There’s nothing here to interfere with my thoughts. Nothing and no one to disturb me. I don’t stay in hotels rooms much, maybe, once or twice a year. The air conditioner/heater hums like a saintly presence. It fills my mind with the soothing thrum…

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Patrick Dobson, the exciting academic

I’ve been busy–papers, presentations, writing–which explains the lack of posts recently. At the beginning of the year, I had two public presentations on my mind. I worried, wrung my hands, and lost sleep. Finally, I gave the papers and felt a great sense of relief. Johnson County Community College filmed…

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Persistence is the heart of publishing

I recently sent away a manuscript that’s been swimming around my computer files for years. I never thought anyone would be interested in publishing a book that starts as a travel narrative and wanders into fiction in a Trout Fishing in America meets Blue Highways sort of way. I first…

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Production as pathology

I set out today to write this essay. Writing as an art escapes me. Writing is a personal exercise at centering myself in this world and sating a desire to do something productive. I don’t write out of inspiration, though I am often inspired. Instead I write out obligation. Lately,…

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