William Zinsser died today. He was 92, so no great shock, I guess. And his legacy lives on in books, articles and even blogs, so we can’t even say he’s really gone.
Even so, as soon as I stumbled across the news via FB, I hunted through my Seattle bookshelves trying to find my tattered, old-style paperback of “On Writing Well.” Not there. It must be in my office at Mizzou. I hate not finding books when and where I want them. I’m tempted to order an updated version from Amazon, despite my ambivalence about that big-footed behemoth and my links here to the same. It could be in my hands tomorrow, and I could sink into my red leather reading chair to immerse into Zinsser’s wisdom – wisdom he set down so clearly and that I seem to forget every time I write.






